Third Collection. The Little Worold
My hwome wer on the timber’d ground O’ Duncombe, wi’ the hills a-bound: Where vew from other peärts did come, An’ vew did travel vur from hwome, An’ small the worold I did know; But then, what had it to bestow But Fanny Deäne so good an’ feäir? ’Twer wide enough if she wer there. In our deep hollow where the zun Did eärly leäve the smoky tun, An’ all the meäds a-growèn dim, Below the hill wi’ zunny rim; Oh! small the land the hills did bound, But there did walk upon the ground Young Fanny Deäne so good an’ feäir: ’Twer wide enough if she wer there. O’ leäte upon the misty plaïn I stay’d vor shelter vrom the raïn, Where sharp-leav’d ashès’ heads did twist In hufflèn wind, an’ driftèn mist, An’ small the worold I could zee; But then it had below the tree My Fanny Deäne so good an’ feäir: ’Twer wide enough if she wer there. An’ I’ve a house wi’ thatchen ridge, Below the elems by the bridge: Wi’ small-peän’d windows, that do look Upon a knap, an’ ramblèn brook; An’ small’s my house, my ruf is low, But then who mid it have to show But Fanny Deäne so good an’ feäir? ’Tis fine enough if peace is there.
William Barnes’s other poems:
