Poem by William Barnes

Third Collection. Hawthorn Down

All up the down’s cool brow
 I work’d in noontide’s gleäre,
On where the slow-wheel’d plow
 ’D a-wore the grass half bare.
An’ gil’cups quiver’d quick,
 As aïr did pass,
An’ deäisies huddled thick
 Among the grass.

The while my eärms did swing
 Wi’ work I had on hand,
The quick-wing’d lark did zing
 Above the green-tree’d land,
An’ bwoys below me chafed
 The dog vor fun,
An’ he, vor all they laef’d,
 Did meäke em run.

The south zide o’ the hill,
 My own tun-smoke rose blue,—
In North Coomb, near the mill,
 My mother’s wer in view—
Where woonce her vier vor all
 Ov us did burn,
As I have childern small
 Round mine in turn.

An’ zoo I still wull cheer
 Her life wi’ my small store,
As she do drop a tear
 Bezide her lwonesome door.
The love that I do owe
 Her ruf, I’ll paÿ,
An’ then zit down below
 My own wi’ jaÿ.

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. The Lydlinch Bells
5. Third Collection. The Wheel Routs

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