Third Collection. The Neäme Letters
When high-flown larks wer on the wing, A warm-aïr’d holiday in Spring, We stroll’d, ’ithout a ceäre or frown, Up roun’ the down at Meldonley; An’ where the hawthorn-tree did stand Alwone, but still wi’ mwore at hand, We zot wi’ sheädes o’ clouds on high A-flittèn by, at Meldonley. An’ there, the while the tree did sheäde Their gigglèn heads, my knife’s keen bleäde Carved out, in turf avore my knee, J. L., *T. D., at Meldonley. ’Twer Jessie Lee J. L. did meän, T. D. did stan’ vor Thomas Deäne; The “L” I scratch’d but slight, vor he Mid soon be D, at Meldonley. An’ when the vields o’ wheat did spread Vrom hedge to hedge in sheets o’ red. An’ bennets wer a-sheäkèn brown, Upon the down at Meldonley, We stroll’d ageän along the hill, An’ at the hawthorn-tree stood still, To zee J. L. vor Jessie Lee, An’ my T. D., at Meldonley. The grey-poll’d bennet-stems did hem Each half-hid letter’s zunken rim, By leädy’s-vingers that did spread In yollow red, at Meldonley. An’ heärebells there wi’ light blue bell Shook soundless on the letter L, To ment the bells when L vor Lee Become a D at Meldonley. Vor Jessie, now my wife, do strive Wi’ me in life, an’ we do thrive; Two sleek-heäired meäres do sprackly pull My waggon vull, at Meldonley; An’ small-hoof’d sheep, in vleeces white, Wi’ quickly-pankèn zides, do bite My thymy grass, a-mark’d vor me In black, T.D., at Meldonley.
William Barnes’s other poems:
