Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV. 1876–79.
Pentridge by the River
By William Barnes (1801–1886)P
Vull wi’ jay to hear ye tellen
Any news o’ thik wold pleace,
An’ the boughy hedges round it,
An’ the river that do bound it
Wi’ his dark but glisnen feace.
Vor there ’s noo land, on either hand,
To me lik’ Pentridge by the river.
On our aspen by the river?
Doo er sheade the water still,
Where the rushes be a-growen,
Where the sullen Stour ’s a-flowen
Droo the meads vrom mill to mill?
Vor if a tree wer’ dear to me,
Oh! ’t wer’ thik aspen by the river.
I did run on even vooten,
Happy, awver new-mown land;
Or did zing wi’ zingen drushes
While I plaited, out o’ rushes,
Little baskets vor my hand;
Bezide the clote that there did float,
Wi’ yollor blossoms, on the river.
What shill vaice is now a-callen
Hwome the deairy to the pails?
Who do dreve em on, a-flingen
Wide-bow’d horns, or slowly zwingen
Right an’ left their tufty tails?
As they do goo a-huddled droo
The geate a-leaden up vrom river.
Where the vloor wer’ oonce our vooten,
While the hall wer’ still in pleace,
Stwones be looser in the wallen;
Hollor trees be nearer vallen;
Ev’ry thing ha’ chang’d its feace.
But still the neame do bide the seame,—
’T is Pentridge,—Pentridge by the river.