Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. V. Browning to Rupert Brooke

William Barnes (1801–1886)

In the Spring

MY love is the maïd ov all maïdens,

Though all mid be comely,

Her skin ’s lik’ the jessamy blossom

A-spread in the Spring.

Her smile is so sweet as a baby’s

Young smile on his mother,

Her eyes be as bright as the dew drop

A-shed in the Spring.

O grey-leafy pinks o’ the geärden,

Now bear her sweet blossoms;

Now deck wi’ a rwose-bud, O briar,

Her head in the Spring.

O light-rollèn wind, blow me hither

The vaïce ov her talkèn,

O bring vrom her veet the light doust

She do tread in the Spring.

O zun, meäke the gil’cups all glitter

In goold all around her,

An’ meäke o’ the deäisys’ white flowers

A bed in the Spring.

O whissle, gaÿ birds, up bezide her,

In drong-waÿ an’ woodlands,

O zing, swingèn lark, now the clouds

Be a-vled in the Spring!