William Barnes

Spring: The Woody Hollow

If mem’ry, when our hope’s a-gone,
Could bring us dreams to cheat us on,
Ov happiness our hearts voun’ true
In years we come too quickly drough;
What days should come to me, but you,
   That burn’d my youthvul cheaeks wi’ zuns
   O’ zummer, in my playsome runs
       About the woody hollow.
 
When evenen’s risen moon did peep
Down drough the hollow dark an’ deep,
Where gigglen sweethearts meaede their vows
In whispers under waggen boughs;
When whisslen bwoys, an’ rott’len ploughs
   Wer still, an’ mothers, wi’ their thin
   Shrill vaices, call’d their daughters in,
       From walken in the hollow;
 
What souls should come avore my zight,
But they that had your zummer light?
The litsome younger woones that smil’d
Wi’ comely feaezen now a-spweil’d;
Or wolder vo’k, so wise an’ mild,
   That I do miss when I do goo
   To zee the pleaece, an’ walk down drough
       The lwonesome woody hollow?
 
When wrongs an’ overbearen words
Do prick my bleeden heart lik’ swords,
Then I do try, vor Christes seaeke,
To think o’ you, sweet days! an’ meaeke
My soul as 'twer when you did weaeke
   My childhood’s eyes, an’ when, if spite
   Or grief did come, did die at night
       In sleep 'ithin the hollow.
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