Poem by William Barnes

Third Collection. The Lark

As I, below the mornèn sky,
 Wer out a workèn in the lew
O’ black-stemm’d thorns, a-springèn high,
 Avore the worold-boundèn blue,
A-reäkèn, under woak tree boughs,
The orts a-left behin’ by cows.

Above the grey-grow’d thistle rings,
 An’ deäisy-buds, the lark, in flight,
Did zing a-loft, wi’ flappèn wings,
 Tho’ mwore in heärèn than in zight;
The while my bwoys, in plaÿvul me’th.
Did run till they wer out o’ breath.

Then woone, wi’ han’-besheäded eyes,
 A-stoppèn still, as he did run,
Look’d up to zee the lark arise
 A-zingèn to the high-gone zun;
The while his brother look’d below
Vor what the groun’ mid have to show.

Zoo woone did watch above his head
 The bird his hands could never teäke;
An’ woone, below, where he did tread,
 Vound out the nest within the breäke;
But, aggs be only woonce a-vound,
An’ uncaught larks ageän mid sound.

1. Second Collection. The Linden on the Lawn
2. Second Collection. When Birds be Still
3. First Collection. Summer. Week’s End in Zummer, in the Wold Vo’k’s Time
4. Second Collection. I know Who
5. Third Collection. Went vrom Hwome

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