Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

First Collection. Summer. The Evenèn Star o’ Zummer

When vu’st along theäse road vrom mill,
I zeed ye hwome all up the hill,
The poplar tree, so straïght an’ tall,
Did rustle by the watervall;
An’ in the leäze the cows war all
 A-lyèn down to teäke their rest.
 An’ slowly zunk towárd the west
  The evenèn star o’ zummer.

In parrock there the haÿ did lie
In weäle below the elems, dry;
An’ up in hwome-groun’ Jim, that know’d
We all should come along thik road,
D a-tied the grass in knots that drow’d
 Poor Poll, a-watchèn in the West
 Woone brighter star than all the rest,—
  The evenèn star o’ zummer.

The stars that still do zet an’ rise,
Did sheen in our forefather’s eyes;
They glitter’d to the vu’st men’s zight,
The last will have em in their night;
But who can vind em half so bright
 As I thought thik peäle star above
 My smilèn Jeäne, my zweet vu’st love,
  The evenèn star o’ zummer.

How sweet’s the mornèn fresh an’ new,
Wi’ sparklèn brooks an’ glitt’rèn dew;
How sweet’s the noon wi’ sheädes a-drow’d
Upon the groun’ but leätely mow’d,
An’ bloomèn flowers all abrode;
 But sweeter still, as I do clim’,
 Theäse woody hill in evenèn dim
  ’S the evenèn star o’ zummer.

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