(William Barnes)

Third Collection. The Broken Heart

News o grief had overteäken
Dark-eyd Fanny, now vorseäken;
There she zot, wi breast a-heavèn,
While vrom zide to zide, wi grievèn,
Vell her head, wi tears a-creepèn
Down her cheäks, in bitter weepèn.
There wer still the ribbon-bow
She tied avore her hour ov woe,
An there wer still the hans that tied it
    Hangèn white,
    Or wringèn tight,
In ceäre that drownd all ceäre bezide it.

When a man, wi heartless slightèn,
Mid become a maïdens blightèn,
He mid ceärlessly vorseäke her,
But must answer to her Meäker;
He mid slight, wi selfish blindness,
All her deeds o lovèn-kindness,
God wull waïgh em wi the slightèn
That mid be her loves requitèn;
He do look on each deceiver,
    He do know
    What weight o woe
Do breäk the heart ov evry griever.

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