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Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.

William Barnes 1801–86

Woone Smile Mwore


O! MEÄRY, when the zun went down,

Woone night in spring, w’ viry rim,

Behind the nap wi’ woody crown,

An’ left your smilèn feäce so dim;

Your little sister there, inside,

Wi’ bellows on her little knee,

Did blow the vire, a-glearèn wide

Drough window-peänes, that I could zee,—

As you did stan’ wi’ me, avore

The house, a-peärten,—woone smile mwore.

The chatt’rèn birds, a-risèn high,

An’ zinkèn low, did swiftly vlee

Vrom shrinkèn moss, a-growèn dry,

Upon the leänèn apple tree.

An’ there the dog, a-whippèn wide

His heäiry taïl, an’ comèn near,

Did fondly lay ageän you zide

His coal-black nose an’ russet ear:

To win what I ’d a-won avore,

Vrom your gay; feäce, his woone smile mwore.

An’ while your mother bustled sprack,

A-gettèn supper out in hall,

An’ cast her sheäde, a-whiv’rèn black

Avore the vire, upon the wall;

Your brother come, wi’ easy peäce,

In drough the slammèn geäte, along

The path, wi’ healthy-bloomèn feäce,

A-whis’lèn shrill his last new zong:

An’ when he come avore the door,

He met vrom you his woone smile mwore.

Now you that wer the daughter there,

Be mother on a husband’s vloor,

An’ mid ye meet wi’ less o’ ceäre

Than what your heärty mother bore;

An’ if abroad I have to rue

The bitter tongue, or wrongvul deed,

Mid I come hwome to sheäre wi’ you

What ’s needvul free o’ pinchèn need:

An’ vind that you ha’ still in store

My evenèn meal, an’ woone smile mwore.