Spring: Evenen in the Village
Now the light o’ the west is a-turn’d to gloom,
An’ the men be at hwome vrom ground;
An’ the bells be a-zenden all down the Coombe
From tower, their mwoansome sound.
An’ the wind is still,
An’ the house-dogs do bark,
An’ the rooks be a-vled to the elems high an’ dark,
An’ the water do roar at mill.
An’ the flickeren light drough the window-peaene
Vrom the candle’s dull fleaeme do shoot,
An’ young Jemmy the smith is a-gone down leaene,
A-playen his shrill-vaiced flute.
An’ the miller’s man
Do zit down at his ease
On the seat that is under the cluster o’ trees.
Wi’ his pipe an’ his cider can.
Altre opere di William Barnes...
