Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

First Collection. Summer. Sweet Music in the Wind

When evenèn is a-drawèn in,
I’ll steal vrom others’ naïsy din;
An’ where the whirlèn brook do roll
Below the walnut-tree, I’ll stroll
An’ think o’ thee wi’ all my soul,
Dear Jenny; while the sound o’ bells
Do vlee along wi’ mwoansome zwells,
 Sweet music in the wind!

I’ll think how in the rushy leäze
O’ zunny evenèns jis’ lik’ theäse,
In happy times I us’d to zee
Thy comely sheäpe about the tree,
Wi’ païl a-held avore thy knee;
An’ lissen’d to thy merry zong
That at a distance come along,
 Sweet music in the wind!

An’ when wi’ me you walk’d about
O’ Zundays, after church wer out.
Wi’ hangèn eärm an’ modest look;
Or zittèn in some woody nook
We lissen’d to the leaves that shook
Upon the poplars straïght an’ tall,
Or rottle o’ the watervall,
 Sweet music in the wind!

An’ when the plaÿvul aïr do vlee,
O’ moonlight nights, vrom tree to tree,
Or whirl upon the sheäkèn grass,
Or rottle at my window glass:
Do seem,—as I do hear it pass,—
As if thy vaïce did come to tell
Me where thy happy soul do dwell,
 Sweet music in the wind!

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