Poem by William Barnes

Third Collection. Good Night

While down the meäds wound slow,
 Water vor green-wheel’d mills,
Over the streams bright bow,
 Win’ come vrom dark-back’d hills.
Birds on the win’ shot along down steep
Slopes, wi’ a swift-swung zweep.
Dim weän’d the red streak’d west.
Lim’-weary souls “Good-rest.”

Up on the plough’d hill brow,
 Still wer the zull’s wheel’d beam,
Still wer the red-wheel’d plough,
 Free o’ the strong limb’d team.
Still wer the shop that the smith meäde ring,
Dark where the sparks did spring;
Low shot the zun’s last beams.
Lim’-weary souls “Good dreams,”

Where I vrom dark bank-sheädes
 Turn’d up the west hill road,
Where all the green grass bleädes
 Under the zunlight glow’d.
Startled I met, as the zunbeams plaÿ’d
Light, wi’ a zunsmote maïd,
Come vor my day’s last zight.
Zun-brighten’d maïd “Good night.”

1. First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Aunt’s Tantrums
2. Third Collection. Comen Hwome
3. Third Collection. Sheädes
4. Third Collection. Tweil
5. Third Collection. Leaves a-vallèn

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