Second Collection. The Wold Wall
Here, Jeäne, we vu’st did meet below The leafy boughs, a-swingèn slow, Avore the zun, wi’ evenèn glow, Above our road, a-beamèn red; The grass in zwath wer in the meäds, The water gleam’d among the reeds In aïr a-steälèn roun’ the hall, Where ivy clung upon the wall. Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu! The wall is wold, my grief is new. An’ there you walk’d wi’ blushèn pride, Where softly-wheelèn streams did glide, Drough sheades o’ poplars at my zide, An’ there wi’ love that still do live, Your feäce did wear the smile o’ youth, The while you spoke wi’ age’s truth, An’ wi’ a rwosebud’s mossy ball, I deck’d your bosom vrom the wall. Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu! The wall is wold, my grief is new. But now when winter’s raïn do vall, An’ wind do beat ageän the hall, The while upon the wat’ry wall In spots o’ grey the moss do grow; The ruf noo mwore shall overspread The pillor ov our weary head, Nor shall the rwose’s mossy ball Behang vor you the house’s wall. Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu! The wall is wold, my grief is new.
William Barnes’s other poems:
