William Barnes

In the Spring

My love is the maid ov all maidens,
     Though all mid be comely,
Her skin’s lik’ the jessamy blossom
     A-spread in the Spring.
 
Her smile is so sweet as a beaeby’s
     Young smile on his mother,
Her eyes be as bright as the dew drop
     A-shed in the Spring.
 
O grey-leafy pinks o’ the geaerden,
     Now bear her sweet blossoms;
Now deck wi’ a rwose-bud, O briar.
     Her head in the Spring.
 
O light-rollen wind blow me hither,
     The vaeice ov her talken,
Or bring vrom her veet the light doust,
     She do tread in the Spring.
 
O zun, meaeke the gil’cups all glitter,
     In goold all around her;
An’ meaeke o’ the deaeisys’ white flowers
     A bed in the Spring.
 
O whissle gay birds, up bezide her,
     In drong-way, an’ woodlands,
O zing, swingen lark, now the clouds,
     Be a-vled in the Spring.
 
An’ who, you mid ax, be my praises
     A-meaeken so much o’,
An’ oh! ’tis the maid I’m a-hopen
     To wed in the Spring.

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