First Collection. Summer. Evenèn, an’ Maïdens out at Door
Now the sheädes o’ the elems do stratch mwore an’ mwore, Vrom the low-zinkèn zun in the west o’ the sky; An’ the maïdens do stand out in clusters avore The doors, vor to chatty an’ zee vo’k goo by. An’ their cwombs be a-zet in their bunches o’ heäir, An’ their currels do hang roun’ their necks lily-white, An’ their cheäks they be rwosy, their shoulders be beäre, Their looks they be merry, their limbs they be light. An’ the times have a-been—but they cant be noo mwore— When I had my jaÿ under evenèn’s dim sky, When my Fanny did stan’ out wi’ others avore Her door, vor to chatty an’ zee vo’k goo by. An’ up there, in the green, is her own honey-zuck, That her brother train’d up roun’ her window; an’ there Is the rwose an’ the jessamy, where she did pluck A flow’r vor her bosom or bud vor her heäir. An’ zoo smile, happy maïdens! vor every feäce, As the zummers do come, an’ the years do roll by, Will soon sadden, or goo vur away vrom the pleäce, Or else, lik’ my Fanny, will wither an’ die. But when you be a-lost vrom the parish, zome mwore Will come on in your pleäzen to bloom an’ to die; An’ the zummer will always have maïdens avore Their doors, vor to chatty an’ zee vo’k goo by. Vor daughters ha’ mornèn when mothers ha’ night, An’ there’s beauty alive when the feäirest is dead; As when woone sparklèn weäve do zink down vrom the light, Another do come up an’ catch it instead. Zoo smile on, happy maïdens! but I shall noo mwore Zee the maïd I do miss under evenèn’s dim sky; An’ my heart is a-touch’d to zee you out avore The doors, vor to chatty an’ zee vo’k goo by.
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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