Poem by William Barnes

Third Collection. Lindenore

At Lindenore upon the steep,
 Bezide the trees a-reachèn high,
The while their lower limbs do zweep
 The river-stream a-flowèn by;
By grægle bells in beds o’ blue,
Below the tree-stems in the lew,
Calm aïr do vind the rwose-bound door,
Ov Ellen Dare o’ Lindenore.

An’ there noo foam do hiss avore
 Swift bwoats, wi’ water-plowèn keels,
An’ there noo broad high-road’s a-wore
 By vur-brought trav’lers’ cracklèn wheels;
Noo crowd’s a-passèn to and fro,
Upon the bridge’s high-sprung bow:
An’ vew but I do seek the door
Ov Ellen Dare o’ Lindenore.

Vor there the town, wi’ zun-bright walls,
 Do sheen vur off, by hills o’ grey,
An’ town-vo’k ha’ but seldom calls
 O’ business there, from day to day:
But Ellen didden leäve her ruf
To be admir’d, an’ that’s enough—
Vor I’ve a-vound ’ithin her door,
Feäir Ellen Dare o’ Lindenore.

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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