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Ãëàâíàÿ • Áèîãðàôèè • Ñòèõè ïî òåìàì • Ñëó÷àéíîå ñòèõîòâîðåíèå • Ïåðåâîä÷èêè • Ññûëêè • Àíòîëîãèè Ðåéòèíã ïîýòîâ • Ðåéòèíã ñòèõîòâîðåíèé |
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First Collection. Fall. Mornèn When vu’st the breakèn day is red, An’ grass is dewy wet, An’ roun’ the blackberry’s a-spread The spider’s gliss’nèn net, Then I do dreve the cows across The brook that’s in a vog, While they do trot, an’ bleäre, an’ toss Their heads to hook the dog; Vor the cock do gi’e me warnèn, An’ light or dark, So brisk’s a lark, I’m up at break o’ mornèn. Avore the maïden’s sleep’s a-broke By window-strikèn zun, Avore the busy wife’s vu’st smoke Do curl above the tun, My day’s begun. An’ when the zun ’S a-zinkèn in the west, The work the mornèn brought’s a-done, An’ I do goo to rest, Till the cock do gi’e me warnèn; An’ light or dark, So brisk’s a lark, I’m up ageän nex’ mornèn. We can’t keep back the daily zun, The wind is never still, An’ never ha’ the streams a-done A-runnèn down at hill. Zoo they that ha’ their work to do, Should do’t so soon’s they can; Vor time an’ tide will come an’ goo, An’ never waït vor man, As the cock do gi’e me warnèn; When, light or dark. So brisk’s a lark, I’m up so rathe in mornèn. We’ve leäzes where the aïr do blow, An’ meäds wi’ deäiry cows, An’ copse wi’ lewth an’ sheäde below The overhangèn boughs. An’ when the zun, noo time can tire, ’S a-quench’d below the west, Then we’ve, avore the bleäzèn vire, A settle vor to rest,— To be up ageän nex’ mornèn So brisk’s a lark, When, light or dark, The cock do gi’e us warnèn. William Barnes's other poems:
Ðàñïå÷àòàòü (Print) Êîëè÷åñòâî îáðàùåíèé ê ñòèõîòâîðåíèþ: 1265 |
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