Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)




Текст оригинала на английском языке

Third Collection. In the Spring


My love is the maïd ov all maïdens,
 Though all mid be comely,
Her skin’s lik’ the jessamy blossom
 A-spread in the Spring.

Her smile is so sweet as a beäby’s
 Young smile on his mother,
Her eyes be as bright as the dew drop
 A-shed in the Spring.

O grey-leafy pinks o’ the geärden,
 Now bear her sweet blossoms;
Now deck wi’ a rwose-bud, O briar,
 Her head in the Spring.

O light-rollèn wind blow me hither,
 The vaïce ov her talkèn,
Or bring vrom her veet the light doust,
 She do tread in the Spring.

O zun, meäke the gil’cups all glitter,
 In goold all around her;
An’ meäke o’ the deäisys’ white flowers
 A bed in the Spring.

O whissle gaÿ birds, up bezide her,
 In drong-waÿ, an’ woodlands,
O zing, swingèn lark, now the clouds,
 Be a-vled in the Spring.

An’ who, you mid ax, be my praïses
 A-meäkèn so much o’,
An’ oh! ’tis the maïd I’m a-hopèn
 To wed in the Spring.





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