Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

Third Collection. Zunday

In zummer, when the sheädes do creep
 Below the Zunday steeple, round
The mossy stwones, that love cut deep
 Wi’ neämes that tongues noo mwore do sound,
The leäne do lose the stalkèn team,
 An’ dry-rimm’d waggon-wheels be still,
An’ hills do roll their down-shot stream
 Below the restèn wheel at mill.
O holy day, when tweil do ceäse,
Sweet day o’ rest an’ greäce an’ peäce!

The eegrass, vor a while unwrung
 By hoof or shoe, ’s a sheenèn bright,
An’ clover flowers be a-sprung
 On new-mow’d knaps in beds o’ white,
An’ sweet wild rwoses, up among
 The hedge-row boughs, do yield their smells,
To aïer that do bear along
 The loud-rung peals o’ Zunday bells,
Upon the day o’ days the best,
The day o’ greäce an’ peace an’ rest.

By brightshod veet, in peäir an’ peäir,
 Wi’ comely steps the road’s a-took
To church, an’ work-free han’s do beär
 Woone’s walkèn stick or sister’s book;
An’ there the bloomèn niece do come
 To zee her aunt, in all her best;
Or married daughter do bring hwome
 Her vu’st sweet child upon her breast,
As she do seek the holy pleäce,
The day o’ rest an’ peäce an’ greäce.

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