Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

Third Collection. The Castle Ruins

A happy day at Whitsuntide,
 As soon’s the zun begun to vall,
We all stroll’d up the steep hill-zide
 To Meldon, girt an’ small;
Out where the castle wall stood high
A-mwoldrèn to the zunny sky.

An’ there wi’ Jenny took a stroll
 Her youngest sister, Poll, so gaÿ,
Bezide John Hind, ah! merry soul,
 An’ mid her wedlock faÿ;
An’ at our zides did plaÿ an’ run
My little maïd an’ smaller son.

Above the beäten mwold upsprung
 The driven doust, a-spreadèn light,
An’ on the new-leav’d thorn, a-hung,
 Wer wool a-quiv’rèn white;
An’ corn, a sheenèn bright, did bow,
On slopèn Meldon’s zunny brow.

There, down the rufless wall did glow
 The zun upon the grassy vloor,
An’ weakly-wandrèn winds did blow,
 Unhinder’d by a door;
An’ smokeless now avore the zun
Did stan’ the ivy-girded tun.

My bwoy did watch the daws’ bright wings
 A-flappèn vrom their ivy bow’rs;
My wife did watch my maïd’s light springs,
 Out here an’ there vor flow’rs;
And John did zee noo tow’rs, the pleäce
Vor him had only Polly’s feäce.

An’ there, of all that pried about
 The walls, I overlook’d em best,
An’ what o’ that? Why, I meäde out
 Noo mwore than all the rest:
That there war woonce the nest of zome
That wer a-gone avore we come.

When woonce above the tun the smoke
 Did wreathy blue among the trees,
An’ down below, the livèn vo’k,
 Did tweil as brisk as bees;
Or zit wi’ weary knees, the while
The sky wer lightless to their tweil.

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