First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Vaïces that be Gone
When evenèn sheädes o’ trees do hide A body by the hedge’s zide, An’ twitt’rèn birds, wi’ plaÿsome flight, Do vlee to roost at comèn night, Then I do saunter out o’ zight In orcha’d, where the pleäce woonce rung Wi’ laughs a-laugh’d an’ zongs a-zung By vaïces that be gone. There’s still the tree that bore our swing, An’ others where the birds did zing; But long-leav’d docks do overgrow The groun’ we trampled beäre below, Wi’ merry skippèns to an’ fro Bezide the banks, where Jim did zit A-plaÿèn o’ the clarinit To vaïces that be gone. How mother, when we us’d to stun Her head wi’ all our naïsy fun, Did wish us all a-gone vrom hwome: An’ now that zome be dead, an’ zome A-gone, an’ all the pleäce is dum’. How she do wish, wi’ useless tears, To have ageän about her ears The vaïces that be gone. Vor all the maïdens an’ the bwoys But I, be marri’d off all woys, Or dead an’ gone; but I do bide At hwome, alwone, at mother’s zide, An’ often, at the evenèn-tide, I still do saunter out, wi’ tears, Down drough the orcha’d, where my ears Do miss the vaïces gone.
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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