Poem by William Barnes

Third Collection. Grief an’ Gladness

“Can all be still, when win’s do blow?
 Look down the grove an’ zee
 The boughs a-swingèn on the tree,
An’ beäten weäves below.
Zee how the tweilèn vo’k do bend
 Upon their windward track,
Wi’ ev’ry string, an’ garment’s end,
 A-flutt’rèn at their back.”
I cried, wi’ sotow sore a-tried,
An’ hung, wi’ Jenny at my zide,
 My head upon my breast.
Wi’ strokes o’ grief so hard to bear,
 ’Tis hard vor souls to rest.

Can all be dull, when zuns do glow?
 Oh! no; look down the grove,
 Where zides o’ trees be bright above;
An’ weäves do sheen below;
An’ neäked stems o’ wood in hedge
 Do gleäm in streäks o’ light,
An’ rocks do gleäre upon the ledge
 O’ yonder zunny height,
“No, Jeäne, wi’ trials now withdrawn,
Lik’ darkness at a happy dawn.”
 I cried, “Noo mwore despair;
Wi’ our lost peace ageän a-vound,
 ’Tis wrong to harbour ceäre.”

1. Third Collection. Tweil
2. Second Collection. Light or Sheäde
3. Third Collection. Comen Hwome
4. Second Collection. Slow to come, quick agone
5. Second Collection. The Slantèn light o’ Fall

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