Second Collection. Trees be Company
When zummer’s burnèn het’s a-shed Upon the droopèn grasses head, A-drevèn under sheädy leaves The workvo’k in their snow-white sleeves. We then mid yearn to clim’ the height, Where thorns be white, above the vern; An’ aïr do turn the zunsheen’s might To softer light too weak to burn— On woodless downs we mid be free, But lowland trees be company. Though downs mid show a wider view O’ green a-reachèn into blue Than roads a-windèn in the glen, An’ ringèn wi’ the sounds o’ men; The thissle’s crown o’ red an’ blue In Fall’s cwold dew do wither brown, An’ larks come down ’ithin the lew. As storms do brew, an’ skies do frown— An’ though the down do let us free, The lowland trees be company. Where birds do zing, below the zun, In trees above the blue-smok’d tun, An’ sheädes o’ stems do overstratch The mossy path ’ithin the hatch; If leaves be bright up over head, When Maÿ do shed its glitt’rèn light; Or, in the blight o’ Fall, do spread A yollow bed avore our zight— Whatever season it mid be, The trees be always company. When dusky night do nearly hide The path along the hedge’s zide, An’ dailight’s hwomely sounds be still But sounds o’ water at the mill; Then if noo feäce we long’d to greet Could come to meet our lwonesome treäce Or if noo peäce o’ weary veet, However fleet, could reach its pleäce— However lwonesome we mid be, The trees would still be company.
William Barnes’s other poems:
