Second Collection. The Linden on the Lawn
No! Jenny, there’s noo pleäce to charm My mind lik’ yours at Woakland farm, A-peärted vrom the busy town, By longsome miles ov aïry down, Where woonce the meshy wall did gird Your flow’ry geärden, an’ the bird Did zing in zummer wind that stirr’d The spreädèn linden on the lawn. An’ now ov all the trees wi’ sheädes A-wheelèn round in Blackmwore gleädes, There’s noo tall poplar by the brook, Nor elem that do rock the rook, Nor ash upon the shelvèn ledge, Nor low-bough’d woak bezide the hedge, Nor withy up above the zedge, So dear’s thik linden on the lawn. Vor there, o’ zummer nights, below The wall, we zot when aïr did blow, An’ sheäke the dewy rwose a-tied Up roun’ the window’s stwonèn zide. An’ while the carter rod’ along A-zingèn, down the dusky drong, There you did zing a sweeter zong Below the linden on the lawn. An’ while your warbled ditty wound Drough plaÿsome flights o’ mellow sound, The nightèngeäle’s sh’ill zong, that broke The stillness ov the dewy woak, Rung clear along the grove, an’ smote To sudden stillness ev’ry droat; As we did zit, an’ hear it float Below the linden on the lawn. Where dusky light did softly vall ’Ithin the stwonèn-window’d hall, Avore your father’s blinkèn eyes, His evenèn whiff o’ smoke did rise, An’ vrom the bedroom window’s height Your little John, a-cloth’d in white, An’ gwaïn to bed, did cry “good night” Towards the linden on the lawn. But now, as Dobbin, wi’ a nod Vor ev’ry heavy step he trod, Did bring me on, to-night, avore The geäbled house’s pworchèd door, Noo laughèn child a-cloth’d in white, Look’d drough the stwonèn window’s light, An’ noo vaïce zung, in dusky night, Below the linden on the lawn. An’ zoo, if you should ever vind My kindness seem to grow less kind, An’ if upon my clouded feäce My smile should yield a frown its pleäce, Then, Jenny, only laugh an’ call My mind ’ithin the geärden wall, Where we did plaÿ at even-fall, Below the linden on the lawn.
William Barnes’s other poems:
