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WILLIAM BARNES

1801-1886

667                                           Mater Dolorosa

ID a dream to-night
  As I fell asleep,
O! the touching sight
  Makes me still to weep:
Of my little lad,
Gone to leave me sad,
Ay, the child I had,
  But was not to keep.
As in heaven high
  I my child did seek,
There in train came by
  Children fair and meek,
Each in lily white,
With a lamp alight;
Each was clear to sight,
  But they did not speak.
Then, a little sad,
  Came my child in turn,
But the lamp he had,
  O it did not burn!
He, to clear my doubt,
Said, half turnd about,
Your tears put it out;
  Mother, never mourn.

668                                          The Wife a-lost

SINCE I noo mwore do zee your feëace,
  Up steëars or down below,
Ill zit me in the lwonesome pleëace,
  Where flat-boughd beech do grow;
Below the beeches bough, my love,
  Where you did never come,
An I dont look to meet ye now,
  As I do look at hwome.
Since you noo mwore be at my zide,
  In walks in zummer het,
Ill goo alwone where mist do ride,
  Droo trees a-drippàn wet;
Below the raëin-wet bough, my love,
  Where you did never come,
An I dont grieve to miss ye now,
  As I do grieve at hwome.
Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard
  Your vaëice do never sound,
Ill eat the bit I can avword
  A-vield upon the ground;
Below the darksome bough, my love,
  Where you did never dine,
An I dont grieve to miss ye now,
  As I at hwome do pine.
Since I do miss your vaëice an feëace
  In praëyer at eventide,
Ill praëy wi woone sad vaëice vor greëace
  To goo where you do bide;
Above the tree an bough, my love,
  Where you be gone avore,
An be a-waëitàn vor me now,
  To come vor evermwore.

669                                   Evening, and Maidens

NOW the shiades o the elems da stratch muore an muore,
Vrom the low-zinkàn zun in the west o the sky;
An the mâidens da stan out in clusters avore
The doors, var to chatty an zee voke goo by.

An ther cuombs be a-zet in ther bunches o hiair,
An ther curdles1 da hang roun ther necks lily-white,
An ther cheëaks tha be ruosy, ther shoulders be biare,
Ther looks tha be merry, ther lims tha be light.

An the times have a-beenbut tha cëant be noo muore
When I, too, had my jây under evemens dim sky,
When my Fanny did stan out wi others avore
Her door, var to chatty an zee voke goo by.

An up there, in the green, is her own honey-zuck,
That her brother trâind up roun her winder; an there
Is the ruose an the jessamy, where she did pluck
A flowr var her buzom ar bud var her hiair.

An zoo smile, happy mâidens! var every fiace,
As the zummers da come an the years da roll by,
Wull soon sadden, ar goo vur awoy vrom the pliace,
Ar else, lik my Fanny, wull wither an die.

But when you be a-lost vrom the parish, some muore
Wull come on in yur pliazen to bloom an to die;
An zoo zummer wull always have mâidens avore
Ther doors, var to chatty an zee voke goo by.

Var dëaters ha marnen when mothers ha night,
An theres beauty alive when the fiairest is dead;
As when oon sparklàn wiave da zink down vrom the light,
Another da come up an catch it instead.

Zoo smile on, happy mâidens! but I shall noo muore
Zee the mâid I da miss under evemens dim sky;
An my heart is a-touchd to zee you out avore
The doors, var to chatty and zee voke goo by.

1curdles: curls.

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