William Barnes

First Collection. Spring. The Woodlands

O spread ageän your leaves an’ flow’rs,
 Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands!
Here underneath the dewy show’rs
 O’ warm-aïr’d spring-time, zunny woodlands!
As when, in drong or open ground,
Wi’ happy bwoyish heart I vound
The twitt’rèn birds a-buildèn round
 Your high-bough’d hedges, zunny woodlands

You gie’d me life, you gie’d me jaÿ,
 Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands
You gie’d me health, as in my plaÿ
 I rambled through ye, zunny woodlands!
You gie’d me freedom, vor to rove
In aïry meäd or sheädy grove;
You gie’d me smilèn Fannèy’s love.
 The best ov all o’t, zunny woodlands!

My vu’st shrill skylark whiver’d high,
 Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands!
To zing below your deep-blue sky
 An’ white spring-clouds, O zunny woodlands!
An’ boughs o’ trees that woonce stood here,
Wer glossy green the happy year
That gie’d me woone I lov’d so dear,
 An’ now ha’ lost, O zunny woodlands!

O let me rove ageän unspied,
 Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands!
Along your green-bough’d hedges’ zide.
 As then I rambled, zunny woodlands!
An’ where the missèn trees woonce stood,
Or tongues woonce rung among the wood,
My memory shall meäke em good,
 Though you’ve a-lost em, zunny woodlands!