William Barnes (1801–1886)

AS I wer readèn ov a stwone

In Grenley church-yard all alwone,

A little maïd ran up wi’ pride

To zee me there, an’ push’d a-zide

A bunch o’ bennets that did hide

A ve’se her father, as she zaïd,

Put up above her mother’s head,

To tell how much he loved her.

The ve’se wer short, but very good,

I stood an’ larn’d en where I stood:—

‘Mid God, dear Meäry, gi’e me greäce

To vind, lik’ thee, a better pleäce,

Where I woonce mwore mid zee thy feäce;

An’ bring thy childern up to know

His word, that they mid come an’ show

Thy soul how much I lov’d thee.’

‘Where ’s father, then,’ I zaid, ‘my chile?’

‘Dead, too’, she answer’d wi’ a smile;

‘An’ I an’ brother Jim do bide

At Betty White’s, o’ t’other side

O’ road.’ ‘Mid He, my chile,’ I cried,

‘That ’s father to the fatherless,

Become thy father now, an’ bless,

An’ keep, an’ leäd, an’ love thee.’

Though she’ve a-lost, I thought, so much,

Still He don’t let the thoughts o’t touch

Her litsome heart by day or night;

An’ zoo, if we could teäke it right,

Do show He’ll meäke His burdens light

To weaker souls, an’ that His smile

Is sweet upon a harmless chile,

When they be dead that lov’d it.