Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

Second Collection. The Blackbird

’Twer out at Penley I’d a-past
A zummer day that went too vast,
An’ when the zettèn zun did spread
On western clouds a vi’ry red;
The elems’ leafy limbs wer still
Above the gravel-bedded rill,
An’ under en did warble sh’ill,
Avore the dusk, the blackbird.

An’ there, in sheädes o’ darksome yews,
Did vlee the maïdens on their tooes,
A-laughèn sh’ill wi’ merry feäce
When we did vind their hidèn pleäce.
’Ithin the loose-bough’d ivy’s gloom,
Or lofty lilac, vull in bloom,
Or hazzle-wrides that gi’ed em room
Below the zingèn blackbird.

Above our heads the rooks did vlee
To reach their nested elem-tree,
An’ splashèn vish did rise to catch
The wheelèn gnots above the hatch;
An’ there the miller went along,
A-smilèn, up the sheädy drong,
But yeet too deaf to hear the zong
A-zung us by the blackbird.

An’ there the sh’illy-bubblèn brook
Did leäve behind his rocky nook,
To run drough meäds a-chill’d wi’ dew,
Vrom hour to hour the whole night drough;
But still his murmurs wer a-drown’d
By vaïces that mid never sound
Ageän together on that ground,
Wi’ whislèns o’ the blackbird.

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