Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

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.

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