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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Jessie Lee

By William Barnes (1801–1886)

ABOVE the timber’s bendèn sh’ouds,

The western wind did softly blow;

An’ up avore the knap, the clouds

Did ride as white as driven snow.

Vrom west to east the clouds did zwim

Wi’ wind that plied the elem’s lim’;

Vrom west to east the stream did glide,

A sheenèn wide, wi’ windèn brim.

How feäir, I thought, avore the sky

The slowly-zwimmèn clouds do look;

How soft the win’s a-streamèn by;

How bright do roll the weävy brook:

When there, a-passèn on my right,

A-walkèn slow, an’ treadèn light,

Young Jessie Lee come by, an’ there

Took all my ceäre, an’ all my zight.

Vor lovely wer the looks her feäce

Held up avore the western sky:

An’ comely wer the steps her peäce

Did meäke a-walkèn slowly by:

But I went east, wi’ beatèn breast,

Wi’ wind, an’ cloud, an’ brook, vor rest,

Wi’ rest a-lost, vor Jessie gone

So lovely on, toward the west.

Blow on, O winds, athirt the hill;

Zwim on, O clouds; O waters vall,

Down maeshy rocks, vrom mill to mill:

I now can overlook ye all.

But roll, O zun, an’ bring to me

My day, if such a day there be,

When zome dear path to my abode

Shall be the road o’ Jessie Lee.