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Poem by William Barnes Third Collection. Tokens Green mwold on zummer bars do show That they’ve a-dripp’d in Winter wet; The hoof-worn ring o’ groun’ below The tree, do tell o’ storms or het; The trees in rank along a ledge Do show where woonce did bloom a hedge; An’ where the vurrow-marks do stripe The down, the wheat woonce rustled ripe. Each mark ov things a-gone vrom view— To eyezight’s woone, to soulzight two. The grass ageän the mwoldrèn door ’S a tóken sad o’ vo’k a-gone, An’ where the house, bwoth wall an’ vloor, ’S a-lost, the well mid linger on. What tokens, then, could Meäry gi’e That she’d a-liv’d, an’ liv’d vor me, But things a-done vor thought an’ view? Good things that nwone ageän can do, An’ every work her love ha’ wrought, To eyezight’s woone, but two to thought. William Barnes William Barnes's other poems:
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