First Collection. Fall. The Veäiry Veet that I do meet
When dewy fall’s red leaves do vlee Along the grass below the tree, Or lie in yollow beds a-shook Upon the shallow-water’d brook, Or drove ’ithin a sheädy nook; Then softly, in the evenèn, down The knap do steal along the groun’ The veäiry veet that I do meet Below the row o’ beech trees. ’Tis jist avore the candle-light Do redden windows up at night, An’ peäler stars do light the vogs A-risèn vrom the brooks an’ bogs, An’ when in barkens yoppèn dogs Do bark at vo’k a-comèn near, Or growl a-lis’enèn to hear The veäiry veet that I do meet Below the row o’ beech trees. Dree times a-year do bless the road O’ womanhood a-gwaïn abrode: When vu’st her litty veet do tread The eärly Maÿ’s white deäisy bed: When leaves be all a-scattered dead; An’ when the winter’s vrozen grass Do glissen in the zun lik’ glass Vor veäiry veet that I do meet Below the row o’ beech trees.
William Barnes’s other poems:
- First Collection. Winter. Keepèn up o’ Chris’mas
- Third Collection. Comen Hwome
- Second Collection. Slow to come, quick agone
- Second Collection. John Bleäke at Hwome
- Third Collection. Things do Come Round
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