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Evenen In The Village
by William BarnesNow the light o' the west is a-turn'd to gloom,
An' the men be at hwome vrom ground;
An' the bells be a-zend'n all down the Coombe
From tower, their mwoansome sound.
An' the wind is still,
An' the house-dogs do bark,
An' the rooks be a-vled to the elems high an' dark,
An' the water do roar at mill.
An' the flicker'n light drough the window-pe'ne
Vrom the candle's dull fle'me do shoot,
An' young Jemmy the smith is a-gone down le'ne,
A-pla''n his shrill-vaiced flute.
An' the miller's man,
Do zit down at his ease
On the seat that is under the cluster o' trees,
Wi' his pipe an' his cider can.