Third Collection. Zummer Winds
Let me work, but mid noo tie Hold me vrom the oben sky, When zummer winds, in plaÿsome flight, Do blow on vields in noon-day light, Or ruslèn trees, in twilight night. Sweet’s a stroll, By flow’ry knowl, or blue-feäcèd pool That zummer win’s do ruffle cool. When the moon’s broad light do vill Plaïns, a-sheenèn down the hill; A-glitterèn on window glass, O then, while zummer win’s do pass The rippled brook, an’ swaÿèn grass, Sweet’s a walk, Where we do talk, wi’ feäces bright, In whispers in the peacevul night. When the swaÿèn men do mow Flow’ry grass, wi’ zweepèn blow, In het a-most enough to dry The flat-spread clote-leaf that do lie Upon the stream a-stealèn by, Sweet’s their rest, Upon the breast o’ knap or mound Out where the goocoo’s vaïce do sound. Where the sleek-heäir’d maïd do zit Out o’ door to zew or knit, Below the elem where the spring ’S a-runnèn, an’ the road do bring The people by to hear her zing, On the green, Where she’s a-zeen, an’ she can zee, O gaÿ is she below the tree. Come, O zummer wind, an’ bring Sounds o’ birds as they do zing, An’ bring the smell o’ bloomèn maÿ, An’ bring the smell o’ new-mow’d haÿ; Come fan my feäce as I do stray, Fan the heäir O’ Jessie feäir; fan her cool, By the weäves o’ stream or pool.
William Barnes’s other poems:
