William Barnes

William Barnes was an English writer, poet, minister, and philologist best known for his dialect poems. Born on February 22, 1801, in Dorset, Barnes had a significant impact on the preservation and celebration of the Dorset dialect, incorporating it extensively in his works. Beyond his poetry, Barnes was a champion of linguistic purism and advocated for the use of Anglo-Saxon vocabulary over Latin-derived terms. He passed away on October 7, 1886. His literary contributions are often associated with the rural and pastoral life.

February 22, 1801

October 7, 1886

English

William Barnes

Page 2 of 2

The Surprise

As there I left the road in May,
And took my way along a ground,
I found a glade with girls at play,
By leafy boughs close-hemmed around,
And there, with stores of harmless joys,
They plied their tongues, in merry noise:
Though little did they seem to fear
So queer a stranger might be near;
Teeh-hee! Look here! Hah! ha! Look there!
And oh! so playsome, oh! so fair.

And one would dance as one would spring,
Or bob or bow with leering smiles,
And one would swing, or sit and sing,
Or sew a stitch or two at whiles,
And one skipped on with downcast face,
All heedless, to my very place,
And there, in fright, with one foot out,
Made one dead step and turned about.
Heeh, hee, oh! oh! ooh! oo! Look there!
And oh! so playsome, oh! so fair.

William Barnes

The Turnstile

Ah! sad wer we as we did peace
the wold church road, wi' downcast feace,
the while the bells, that mwoaned so deep
above our child a-left asleep,
wer now a-zingen all alive
wi' t'other bells to meake the vive.
But up at woone pleace we come by,
t'wer hard to keep woone's two eyes dry
on Stean-cliff road, 'ithin the drong,
up where, as vo'k do pass along,
the turnen stile, a-painted white,
do sheen by day an' show by night.
Vor always there, as we did goo
to church, thik stile did let us drough,
wi' spreaden arms that wheeled to guide
us each in turn to t'other zide.
An' vu'st ov all the train he took
my wife, wi' winsome gait an' look:
An' then zent on my little maid,
a-skippen onward, overjay'd
to reach agean the pleace o' pride,
her ...

William Barnes

The Wife A-Lost

Since I noo mwore do zee your feäce,
Up steärs or down below,
I'll zit me in the lwonesome pleäce,
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-drippèn wet;
Below the raïn-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 vaïce 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...

William Barnes

The Year Clock

We zot bezide the leafy wall,
Upon the bench at evenfall,
While aunt led off our minds wrom ceare
Wi' veairy teales, I can't tell where,
An' vound us woone among her stock
O' feables, o' the gert Year-clock.
His feace wer blue's the zummer skies,
An' wide's the zight o'looken eyes,
For hands, a zun wi' glowen feace,
An' pealer moon wi' swifter peace,
Did wheel by stars o' twinklen light,
By bright-wall'd day, an' dark-treed night;
An' down upon the high-sky'd land,
A'reachen wide, on either hand,
Wer hill an' dell, wi' win'-sway'd trees,
An' lights a'zweepen over seas,
An' gleamen cliffs, an' bright-wall'd tow'rs,
Wi' sheades a-marken on the hours;
An' as the feace, a-rollen round,
Brought comely sheapes along the ground,
The Spring did com...

William Barnes

The Young That Died In Beauty

If souls should only sheen so bright
In heaven as in ethly light,
An nothen better wer the cease,
How comely still, in sheape an feace,
Would many reach thik happy pleace,
The hopevul souls that in their prime
Ha seemd atook avore their time,
The young that died in beauty.

But when woones lims ha lost their strangth
Atweilen drough a lifetimes langth,
An over cheaks a-growen wold
The slowly-weasten years ha rolld
The deepnen wrinkles hollow vwold;
When life is ripe, then death do call
Vor less ov thought, than when do vall
On young voks in their beauty.

But pinen souls, wi heads a-hung
In heavy sorrow vor the young,
The sister ov the brother dead,
The father wi a child avled,
The husband when his bride ha la...

William Barnes

Tokens

Green mwold on zummer bars do show
That they've a-dripped in winter wet;
The hoof-worn ring o' groun' below
The tree do tell o' storms or het;
The trees in rank along a ledge
Do show where woonce did bloom a hedge;
An' where the vurrow-marks do stripe
The down the wheat woonce rustled ripe.
Each mark ov things a-gone vrom view
To eyezight's woone, to soulzight two.

The grass agean the mwoldren door
'S a token sad o' vo'k a-gone,
An' where the house, bwoth wall an' vloor,
'S a-lost, the well mid linger on.
What tokens, then, could Meary gi'e
That she a-lived, an' lived vor me,
But things a-done vor thought an' view?
Good things that nwone agean can do,
An' every work her love ha' wrought,
To eyezight's woone, but two to thought.

William Barnes

Vields By Watervalls

When our downcast looks be smileless,
Under others' wrongs an' slightens,
When our daily deeds be guileless,
An' do meet unkind requitens,
You can meake us zome amends
Vor wrongs o' foes, an' slights o' friends;-
O flow'ry-gleaded, timber-sheaded
Vields by flowen watervalls!

Here be softest airs a'blowen
Drough the boughs, wi'zingen drushes,
Up above the streams, a-flowen
Under willows, on by rushes.
Here below the bright-zunned sky
The dew-bespangled flow'rs do dry,
In woody-zided, stream-divided
Vields by flowen watervalls.

Waters, wi' their giddy rollens;
Breezes wi' their playsome wooens;
Here do heal, in soft consolens,
Hearts-a-wrung wi' man's wrong doens.
Day do come to us as gay
As to king ov widest sway,
In de...

William Barnes

Vull A Man

No, Im a man, Im vull a man,
You beat my manhood, if you can.
Youll be a man if you can teake
All steates that household life do meake.
The love-tossd child, a-croodlen loud,
The bwoy a-screamen wild in play,
The tall grown youth a-steppen proud,
The father staid, the houses stay.
No ; I can boast if others can,
Im vull a man.

A young-cheakd mothers tears mid vall,
When woone a-lost, not half man-tall,
Vrom little hand, a-called vrom play,
Do leave noo tool, but drop a tay,
An die avore hes father-free
To sheape his life by his own plan;
An vull an angel he shall be,
But here on eth not vull a man,
No; I could boast if others can,
Im vull a man.

I woonce, a child, wer father-fed,
An Ive a-vound my childern br...

William Barnes

Woak Hill

When sycamore leaves wer a-spreaden
Green-ruddy in hedges,
Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
A-dried at Woak Hill;

I packed up my goods, all a-sheenen
Wi' long years o' handlen,
On dousty red wheels ov a waggon,
To ride at Woak Hill.

The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellen
I then wer a-leaven,
Had sheltered the sleek head o' Meary,
My bride at Woak Hill.

But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall
'S a-lost vrom the vlooren.
To soon vor my jay an' my childern
She died at Woak Hill.

But still I do think that, in soul,
She do hover about us;
To ho vor her motherless childern,
Her pride at Woak Hill.

Zoo -lest she should tell me hereafter
I stole off 'ithout her,
An' left her, uncalled at house-ridden,

William Barnes

Woone Smile Mwore

O! MARY, when the zun went down,
Woone night in spring, w viry rim,
Behind the nap wi woody crown,
An left your smilen face so dim;
Your little sister there, inside,
Wi bellows on her little knee,
Did blow the vire, a-glearen wide
Drough window-panes, that I could zee,
As you did stan wi me, avore
The house, a-parten, woone smile mwore.

The chattren birds, a-risen high,
An zinken low, did swiftly vlee
Vrom shrinken moss, a-growen dry,
Upon the lanen apple tree.
An there the dog, a-whippen wide
His hairy tail, an comen near,
Did fondly lay agan you zide
His coal-black nose an russet ear:
To win what I d a-won avore,
Vrom your gay; face, his woone smile mwore.

An while your mother bustled sprack,
A-getten supper ...

William Barnes

Zummer An' Winter

When I led by zummer streams
The pride o' Lea, as naighbours thought her,
While the zun, wi' evenen beams,
Did cast our sheades athirt the water;
Winds a-blowen,
Streams a-flowen,
Skies a-glowen,
Tokens ov my jay zoo fleeten,
Heightened it, that happy meeten.

Then, when maid an' man took pleaces,
Gay in winter's Chris'mas dances,
Showen in their merry feaces
Kindly smiles an' glisnen glances;
Stars a-winken,
Day a-shrinken,
Sheades a-zinken,
Brought anew the happy meeten,
That did meake the night too fleeten.

William Barnes

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