|
Ãëàâíàÿ • Áèîãðàôèè • Ñòèõè ïî òåìàì • Ñëó÷àéíîå ñòèõîòâîðåíèå • Ïåðåâîä÷èêè • Ññûëêè • Àíòîëîãèè Ðåéòèíã ïîýòîâ • Ðåéòèíã ñòèõîòâîðåíèé |
|
First Collection. Summer. Readèn ov a Head-stwone As I wer readèn ov a stwone In Grenley church-yard all alwone, A little maïd ran up, wi’ pride To zee me there, an’ push’d a-zide A bunch o’ bennets that did hide A verse her father, as she zaïd, Put up above her mother’s head, To tell how much he loved her: The verse wer short, but very good, I stood an’ larn’d en where I stood:— “Mid God, dear Meäry, gi’e me greäce To vind, lik’ thee, a better pleäce, Where I woonce mwore mid zee thy feäce; An’ bring thy childern up to know His word, that they mid come an’ show Thy soul how much I lov’d thee.” “Where’s father, then,” I zaid, “my chile?” “Dead too,” she answer’d wi’ a smile; “An’ I an’ brother Jim do bide At Betty White’s, o’ tother zide O’ road.” “Mid He, my chile,” I cried, “That’s father to the fatherless, Become thy father now, an’ bless, An’ keep, an’ lead, an’ love thee.” Though she’ve a-lost, I thought, so much, Still He don’t let the thoughts o’t touch Her litsome heart by day or night; An’ zoo, if we could teäke it right, Do show He’ll meäke his burdens light To weaker souls, an’ that his smile Is sweet upon a harmless chile, When they be dead that lov’d it. William Barnes's other poems:
Ðàñïå÷àòàòü (Print) Êîëè÷åñòâî îáðàùåíèé ê ñòèõîòâîðåíèþ: 1270 |
||
Àíãëèéñêàÿ ïîýçèÿ. Àäðåñ äëÿ ñâÿçè eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |