Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

Third Collection. Zummer Winds

Let me work, but mid noo tie
Hold me vrom the oben sky,
When zummer winds, in plaÿsome flight,
Do blow on vields in noon-day light,
Or ruslèn trees, in twilight night.
   Sweet’s a stroll,
By flow’ry knowl, or blue-feäcèd pool
That zummer win’s do ruffle cool.

When the moon’s broad light do vill
Plaïns, a-sheenèn down the hill;
A-glitterèn on window glass,
O then, while zummer win’s do pass
The rippled brook, an’ swaÿèn grass,
   Sweet’s a walk,
Where we do talk, wi’ feäces bright,
In whispers in the peacevul night.

When the swaÿèn men do mow
Flow’ry grass, wi’ zweepèn blow,
In het a-most enough to dry
The flat-spread clote-leaf that do lie
Upon the stream a-stealèn by,
   Sweet’s their rest,
Upon the breast o’ knap or mound
Out where the goocoo’s vaïce do sound.

Where the sleek-heäir’d maïd do zit
Out o’ door to zew or knit,
Below the elem where the spring
’S a-runnèn, an’ the road do bring
The people by to hear her zing,
   On the green,
Where she’s a-zeen, an’ she can zee,
O gaÿ is she below the tree.

Come, O zummer wind, an’ bring
Sounds o’ birds as they do zing,
An’ bring the smell o’ bloomèn maÿ,
An’ bring the smell o’ new-mow’d haÿ;
Come fan my feäce as I do stray,
   Fan the heäir
O’ Jessie feäir; fan her cool,
By the weäves o’ stream or pool.

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