Second Collection. Early risén
The aïr to gi’e your cheäks a hue O’ rwosy red, so feaïr to view, Is what do sheäke the grass-bleädes gray At breäk o’ day, in mornèn dew; Vor vo’k that will be rathe abrode, Will meet wi’ health upon their road. But bidèn up till dead o’ night, When han’s o’ clocks do stan’ upright, By candle-light, do soon consume The feäce’s bloom, an’ turn it white. An’ light a-cast vrom midnight skies Do blunt the sparklèn ov the eyes. Vor health do weäke vrom nightly dreams Below the mornèn’s eärly beams, An’ leäve the dead-aïr’d houses’ eaves, Vor quiv’rèn leaves, an’ bubblèn streams, A-glitt’rèn brightly to the view, Below a sky o’ cloudless blue.
William Barnes’s other poems:
