First Collection. Summer. The Sky a-cleärèn
The drevèn scud that overcast The zummer sky is all a-past, An’ softer aïr, a-blowèn drough The quiv’rèn boughs, do sheäke the vew Last raïn drops off the leaves lik’ dew; An’ peäviers, now a-gettèn dry, Do steam below the zunny sky That’s now so vast a-cleärèn. The sheädes that wer a-lost below The stormy cloud, ageän do show Their mockèn sheäpes below the light; An’ house-walls be a-lookèn white, An’ vo’k do stir woonce mwore in zight, An’ busy birds upon the wing Do whiver roun’ the boughs an’ zing, To zee the sky a-clearèn. Below the hill’s an ash; below The ash, white elder-flow’rs do blow: Below the elder is a bed O’ robinhoods o’ blushèn red; An’ there, wi’ nunches all a-spread, The haÿ-meäkers, wi’ each a cup O’ drink, do smile to zee hold up The raïn, an’ sky a-cleärèn. ’Mid blushèn maïdens, wi’ their zong, Still draw their white-stemm’d reäkes among The long-back’d weäles an’ new-meäde pooks, By brown-stemm’d trees an’ cloty brooks; But have noo call to spweil their looks By work, that God could never meäke Their weaker han’s to underteäke, Though skies mid be a-cleärèn. ’Tis wrong vor women’s han’s to clips The zull an’ reap-hook, speädes an’ whips; An’ men abroad, should leäve, by right, Woone faïthful heart at hwome to light Their bit o’ vier up at night, An’ hang upon the hedge to dry Their snow-white linen, when the sky In winter is a-cleärèn.
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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