William Barnes

Summer: The Clote

(Water-lily.)
 
 
O zummer clote! when the brook’s a-gliden
   So slow an’ smooth down his zedgy bed,
Upon thy broad leaves so seaefe a-riden
   The water’s top wi’ thy yollow head,
       By alder’s heads, O,
       An’ bulrush beds, O.
Thou then dost float, goolden zummer clote!
 
The grey-bough’d withy’s a-leaenen lowly
   Above the water thy leaves do hide;
The benden bulrush, a-swayen slowly,
   Do skirt in zummer thy river’s zide;
           An’ perch in shoals, O,
           Do vill the holes, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!
 
Oh! when thy brook-drinken flow’r’s a-blowen,
   The burnen zummer’s a-zetten in;
The time o’ greenness, the time o’ mowen,
   When in the hay-vield, wi’ zunburnt skin,
           The vo’k do drink, O,
           Upon the brink, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!
 
Wi’ eaerms a-spreaden, an’ cheaeks a-blowen,
   How proud wer I when I vu’st could zwim
Athirt the pleaece where thou bist a-growen,
   Wi’ thy long more vrom the bottom dim;
           While cows, knee-high, O,
           In brook, wer nigh, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!
 
Ov all the brooks drough the meaeds a-winden,
   Ov all the meaeds by a river’s brim,
There’s nwone so feaeir o’ my own heart’s vinden,
   As where the maidens do zee thee swim,
           An’ stan’ to teaeke, O,
           Wi’ long-stemm’d reaeke, O,
Thy flow’r afloat, goolden zummer clote!
Other works by William Barnes...



Top