Second Collection. Angels by the Door
Oh! there be angels evermwore, A-passèn onward by the door, A-zent to teäke our jaÿs, or come To bring us zome—O Meärianne. Though doors be shut, an’ bars be stout, Noo bolted door can keep em out; But they wull leäve us ev’ry thing They have to bring—My Meärianne. An’ zoo the days a-stealèn by, Wi’ zuns a-ridèn drough the sky, Do bring us things to leäve us sad, Or meäke us glad—O Meärianne. The day that’s mild, the day that’s stern, Do teäke, in stillness, each his turn; An’ evils at their worst mid mend, Or even end—My Meärianne. But still, if we can only bear Wi’ faïth an’ love, our pain an’ ceäre, We shan’t vind missèn jaÿs a-lost, Though we be crost—O Meärianne. But all a-took to heav’n, an’ stow’d Where we can’t weäste em on the road, As we do wander to an’ fro, Down here below—My Meärianne. But there be jaÿs I’d soonest choose To keep, vrom them that I must lose; Your workzome hands to help my tweil, Your cheerful smile—O Meärianne. The Zunday bells o’ yonder tow’r, The moonlight sheädes o’ my own bow’r, An’ rest avore our vier-zide, At evenèn-tide—My Meärianne.
William Barnes’s other poems:
