Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

Third Collection. Heedless o’ my love

Oh! I vu’st know’d o’ my true love,
 As the bright moon up above,
Though her brightness wer my pleasure,
 She wer heedless o’ my love.
Tho’ ’twer all gaÿ to my eyes,
Where her feäir feäce did arise,
She noo mwore thought upon my thoughts,
 Than the high moon in the skies.

Oh! I vu’st heärd her a-zingèn,
 As a sweet bird on a tree,
Though her zingèn wer my pleasure,
 ’Twer noo zong she zung to me.
Though her sweet vaïce that wer nigh,
Meäde my wild heart to beat high,
She noo mwore thought upon my thoughts,
 Than the birds would passers by.

Oh! I vu’st know’d her a-weepèn,
 As a raïn-dimm’d mornèn sky,
Though her teär-draps dimm’d her blushes,
 They wer noo draps I could dry.
Ev’ry bright tear that did roll,
Wer a keen païn to my soul,
But noo heärt’s pang she did then veel,
 Wer vor my words to console.

But the wold times be a-vanish’d,
 An’ my true love is my bride.
An’ her kind heart have a-meäde her.
 As an angel at my zide;
I’ve her best smiles that mid plaÿ,
I’ve her me’th when she is gaÿ,
When her tear-draps be a-rollèn,
I can now wipe em awaÿ.

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