William Barnes (Уильям Барнс)

First Collection. Summer. Readèn ov a Head-stwone

As I wer readèn ov a stwone
In Grenley church-yard all alwone,
A little maïd ran up, wi’ pride
To zee me there, an’ push’d a-zide
A bunch o’ bennets that did hide
 A verse her father, as she zaïd,
 Put up above her mother’s head,
  To tell how much he loved her:

The verse wer short, but very good,
I stood an’ larn’d en where I stood:—
“Mid God, dear Meäry, gi’e me greäce
To vind, lik’ thee, a better pleäce,
Where I woonce mwore mid zee thy feäce;
 An’ bring thy childern up to know
 His word, that they mid come an’ show
  Thy soul how much I lov’d thee.”

“Where’s father, then,” I zaid, “my chile?”
“Dead too,” she answer’d wi’ a smile;
“An’ I an’ brother Jim do bide
At Betty White’s, o’ tother zide
O’ road.” “Mid He, my chile,” I cried,
 “That’s father to the fatherless,
 Become thy father now, an’ bless,
  An’ keep, an’ lead, an’ love thee.”

Though she’ve a-lost, I thought, so much,
Still He don’t let the thoughts o’t touch
Her litsome heart by day or night;
An’ zoo, if we could teäke it right,
Do show He’ll meäke his burdens light
 To weaker souls, an’ that his smile
 Is sweet upon a harmless chile,
  When they be dead that lov’d it.

1. Third Collection. Early Plaÿmeäte
2. Third Collection. Naighbour Plaÿmeätes
3. Third Collection. The Wind in the Woone’s Feäce
4. Second Collection. The Turn o’ the Days
5. First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Common a-took in

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1784

Последние стихотворения

To English version