free-verse32 lines
The Wife A-Lost
by William BarnesSince I noo mwore do zee your fe'ce,
Up ste'rs or down below,
I'll zit me in the lwonesome ple'ce,
Where flat-bough'd beech do grow;
Below the beeches' bough, my love,
Where you did never come,
An' I don't look to meet ye now,
As I do look at hwome.
Since you noo mwore be at my zide,
In walks in zummer het,
I'll goo alwone where mist do ride,
Drough trees a-dripp'n wet;
Below the ra'n-wet bough, my love,
Where you did never come,
An' I don't grieve to miss ye now,
As I do grieve at hwome.
Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard
Your va'ce do never sound,
I'll eat the bit I can avword,
A-vield upon the ground;
Below the darksome bough, my love,
Where you did never dine,
An' I don't grieve to miss ye now,
As I at hwome do pine.
Since I do miss your va'ce an' fe'ce
In pra "yer at eventide,
I'll pray wi' woone sad va'ce vor gre'ce
To goo where you do bide;
Above the tree an' bough, my love,
Where you be gone avore,
An' be a-w'it'n vor me now,
To come vor evermwore.