Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

Second Collection. A Wife a-praïs’d

’Twer Maÿ, but ev’ry leaf wer dry
All day below a sheenèn sky;
The zun did glow wi’ yollow gleäre,
An’ cowslips blow wi’ yollow gleäre,
Wi’ grægles’ bells a-droopèn low,
An’ bremble boughs a-stoopèn low;
While culvers in the trees did coo
 Above the vallèn dew.

An’ there, wi’ heäir o’ glossy black,
Bezide your neck an’ down your back,
You rambled gaÿ a-bloomèn feäir;
By boughs o’ maÿ a-bloomèn feäir;
An’ while the birds did twitter nigh,
An’ water weäves did glitter nigh,
You gather’d cowslips in the lew,
 Below the vallèn dew.

An’ now, while you’ve a-been my bride
As years o’ flow’rs ha’ bloom’d an’ died,
Your smilèn feäce ha’ been my jaÿ;
Your soul o’ greäce ha’ been my jaÿ;
An’ wi’ my evenèn rest a-come,
An’ zunsheen to the west a-come,
I’m glad to teäke my road to you
 Vrom vields o’ vallèn dew.

An’ when the raïn do wet the maÿ,
A-bloomèn where we woonce did straÿ,
An’ win’ do blow along so vast,
An’ streams do flow along so vast;
Ageän the storms so rough abroad,
An’ angry tongues so gruff abroad,
The love that I do meet vrom you
 Is lik’ the vallèn dew.

An’ you be sprack’s a bee on wing,
In search ov honey in the Spring:
The dawn-red sky do meet ye up;
The birds vu’st cry do meet ye up;
An’ wi’ your feäce a-smilèn on,
An’ busy hands a-tweilèn on,
You’ll vind zome useful work to do
 Until the vallèn dew.

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