Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

Third Collection. Fancy

In stillness we ha’ words to hear,
 An’ sheäpes to zee in darkest night,
An’ tongues a-lost can haïl us near,
 An’ souls a-gone can smile in zight;
When Fancy now do wander back
 To years a-spent, an’ bring to mind
 Zome happy tide a-left behind
In’ weästèn life’s slow-beatèn track.

When feädèn leaves do drip wi’ raïn,
 Our thoughts can ramble in the dry;
When Winter win’ do zweep the plaïn
 We still can have a zunny sky.
Vor though our limbs be winter-wrung,
 We still can zee, wi’ Fancy’s eyes,
 The brightest looks ov e’th an’ skies,
That we did know when we wer young.

In païn our thoughts can pass to eäse,
 In work our souls can be at plaÿ,
An’ leäve behind the chilly leäse
 Vor warm-aïr’d meäds o’ new mow’d haÿ.
When we do vlee in Fancy’s flight
 Vrom daily ills avore our feäce,
 An’ linger in zome happy pleäce
Ov mè’th an’ smiles, an’ warmth an’ light.

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