Jean Follain

The door-latch is always stubborn beyond it dozes a beast tinged by the fire they know who is walking the curve of the road by their footsteps alone glance at the fancy lamp hanging from the sooty ceiling a green and speckled plant withers a child who has wandered cries beneath a long low sky and at last the snow comes on.

The sneck's aye sweirt and ayont a doverin cratur wi a lit o the lowe they ken ilka gadge on the bowe bi the soond o thir foot-fa glisk the skyrie lamp hingin on the smittie ceilin a spreckelt green plaunt is deein a wandert bairn greets aneath thon laich an gowstie lift at lang an last the onfa.