Second Collection. Meäry’s Smile
When mornèn winds, a-blowèn high, Do zweep the clouds vrom all the sky, An’ laurel-leaves do glitter bright, The while the newly broken light Do brighten up, avore our view, The vields wi’ green, an’ hills wi’ blue; What then can highten to my eyes The cheerful feäce ov e’th an’ skies, But Meäry’s smile, o’ Morey’s Mill, My rwose o’ Mowy Lea. An’ when, at last, the evenèn dews Do now begin to wet our shoes; An’ night’s a-ridèn to the west, To stop our work, an’ gi’e us rest, Oh! let the candle’s ruddy gleäre But brighten up her sheenèn heäir; Or else, as she do walk abroad, Let moonlight show, upon the road, My Meäry’s smile, o’ Morey’s Mill, My rwose o’ Mowy Lea. An’ O! mid never tears come on, To wash her feäce’s blushes wan, Nor kill her smiles that now do plaÿ Like sparklèn weäves in zunny Maÿ; But mid she still, vor all she’s gone Vrom souls she now do smile upon, Show others they can vind woone jaÿ To turn the hardest work to plaÿ. My Meäry’s smile, o’ Morey’s Mill. My rwose o’ Mowy Lea.
William Barnes’s other poems:
