Second Collection. Vo’k a-comèn into Church
The church do zeem a touchèn zight, When vo’k, a-comèn in at door, Do softly tread the long-aïl’d vloor Below the pillar’d arches’ height, Wi’ bells a-pealèn, Vo’k a-kneelèn, Hearts a-healèn, wi’ the love An’ peäce a-zent em vrom above. An’ there, wi’ mild an’ thoughtvul feäce, Wi’ downcast eyes, an’ vaïces dum’, The wold an’ young do slowly come, An’ teäke in stillness each his pleäce, A-zinkèn slowly, Kneelèn lowly, Seekèn holy thoughts alwone, In praÿ'r avore their Meäker’s throne. An’ there be sons in youthvul pride, An’ fathers weak wi’ years an’ païn, An’ daughters in their mother’s traïn, The tall wi’ smaller at their zide; Heads in murnèn Never turnèn, Cheäks a-burnèn, wi’ the het O’ youth, an’ eyes noo tears do wet. There friends do settle, zide by zide, The knower speechless to the known; Their vaïce is there vor God alwone To flesh an’ blood their tongues be tied. Grief a-wringèn, Jaÿ a-zingèn, Pray’r a-bringèn welcome rest So softly to the troubled breast.
William Barnes’s other poems:
