First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Looks a-know’d Avore
While zome, a-gwaïn from pleäce to pleäce, Do daily meet wi’ zome new feäce, When my day’s work is at an end, Let me zit down at hwome, an’ spend A happy hour wi’ zome wold friend, An’ by my own vire-zide rejaïce In zome wold naïghbour’s welcome vaïce, An’ looks I know’d avore, John. Why is it, friends that we’ve a-met By zuns that now ha’ long a-zet, Or winter vires that bleäzed for wold An’ young vo’k, now vor ever cwold, Be met wi’ jaÿ that can’t be twold? Why, ’tis because they friends have all Our youthvul spring ha’ left our fall,— The looks we know’d avore, John. ’Tis lively at a feäir, among The chattèn, laughèn, shiften drong, When wold an’ young, an’ high an’ low, Do streamy round, an’ to an’ fro; But what new feäce that we don’t know, Can ever meäke woone’s warm heart dance Among ten thousan’, lik’ a glance O’ looks we know’d avore, John. How of’en have the wind a-shook The leaves off into yonder brook, Since vu’st we two, in youthvul strolls, Did ramble roun’ them bubblèn shoals! An’ oh! that zome o’ them young souls, That we, in jaÿ, did plaÿ wi’ then Could come back now, an’ bring ageän The looks we know’d avore, John. So soon’s the barley’s dead an’ down, The clover-leaf do rise vrom groun’, An’ wolder feäzen do but goo To be a-vollow’d still by new; But souls that be a-tried an’ true Shall meet ageän beyond the skies, An’ bring to woone another’s eyes The looks they know’d avore, John.
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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