Poem by William Barnes

First Collection. Fall. Meäple Leaves be Yollow

Come, let’s stroll down so vur’s the poun’,
Avore the sparklèn zun is down:
The zummer’s gone, an’ days so feäir
As theäse be now a-gettèn reäre.
The night, wi’ mwore than daylight’s sheäre
 O’ wat’ry sky, do wet wi’ dew
 The ee-grass up above woone’s shoe,
  An’ meäple leaves be yollow.

The last hot doust, above the road,
An’ vu’st dead leaves ha’ been a-blow’d
By plaÿsome win’s where spring did spread
The blossoms that the zummer shed;
An’ near blue sloos an’ conkers red
 The evenèn zun, a zettèn soon,
 Do leäve a-quiv’rèn to the moon,
  The meäple leaves so yollow.

Zoo come along, an’ let’s injaÿ
The last fine weather while do staÿ;
While thou canst hang, wi’ ribbons slack,
Thy bonnet down upon thy back,
Avore the winter, cwold an’ black,
 Do kill thy flowers, an’ avore
 Thy bird-cage is a-took in door,
  Though meäple leaves be yollow.

1. Third Collection. Sheädes
2. First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Aunt’s Tantrums
3. Third Collection. Comen Hwome
4. Third Collection. The Neäme Letters
5. Second Collection. Childhood

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