William Barnes ( )


Second Collection. My Orchad in Lindèn Lea


Ithin the woodlands, flowry gleäded,
 By the woak trees mossy moot,
The sheenèn grass-bleädes, timber-sheäded,
 Now do quiver under voot;
An birds do whissle over head,
An waters bubblèn in its bed,
An there vor me the apple tree
Do leän down low in Linden Lea.

When leaves that leätely wer a-springèn
 Now do feäde ithin the copse,
An païnted birds do hush their zingèn
 Up upon the timbers tops;
An brown-leavd fruits a-turnèn red,
In cloudless zunsheen, over head,
Wi fruit vor me, the apple tree
Do leän down low in Linden Lea.

Let other vok meäke money vaster
 In the aïr o dark-roomd towns,
I dont dread a peevish meäster;
 Though noo man do heed my frowns,
I be free to goo abrode,
Or teäke ageän my hwomeward road
To where, vor me, the apple tree
Do leän down low in Linden Lea.



William Barnes's other poems:
  1. First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Looks a-knowd Avore
  2. First Collection. Winter. What Dick an I did
  3. First Collection. Winter. Zittèn out the Wold Year
  4. First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Uncle out o Debt an out o Danger
  5. Second Collection. Our Fathers Works


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