Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Looks a-know’d Avore

While zome, a-gwaïn from pleäce to pleäce,
Do daily meet wi’ zome new feäce,
When my day’s work is at an end,
Let me zit down at hwome, an’ spend
A happy hour wi’ zome wold friend,
 An’ by my own vire-zide rejaïce
 In zome wold naïghbour’s welcome vaïce,
  An’ looks I know’d avore, John.

Why is it, friends that we’ve a-met
By zuns that now ha’ long a-zet,
Or winter vires that bleäzed for wold
An’ young vo’k, now vor ever cwold,
Be met wi’ jaÿ that can’t be twold?
 Why, ’tis because they friends have all
 Our youthvul spring ha’ left our fall,—
  The looks we know’d avore, John.

’Tis lively at a feäir, among
The chattèn, laughèn, shiften drong,
When wold an’ young, an’ high an’ low,
Do streamy round, an’ to an’ fro;
But what new feäce that we don’t know,
 Can ever meäke woone’s warm heart dance
 Among ten thousan’, lik’ a glance
  O’ looks we know’d avore, John.

How of’en have the wind a-shook
The leaves off into yonder brook,
Since vu’st we two, in youthvul strolls,
Did ramble roun’ them bubblèn shoals!
An’ oh! that zome o’ them young souls,
 That we, in jaÿ, did plaÿ wi’ then
 Could come back now, an’ bring ageän
  The looks we know’d avore, John.

So soon’s the barley’s dead an’ down,
The clover-leaf do rise vrom groun’,
An’ wolder feäzen do but goo
To be a-vollow’d still by new;
But souls that be a-tried an’ true
 Shall meet ageän beyond the skies,
 An’ bring to woone another’s eyes
  The looks they know’d avore, John.

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