Meditações - sinos à tardinha

Even`en in the Village

Now to' the west is a-turn'd to gloom
An' thbe at hwome vrom ground;
An' the bells bwee a zend`en all down the Coombe
From the tower, thier mwoansone 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 the mill.


An' the flickeren light drough the window-peane
Vrom the candle's dull fleame do shoot'
An' young jemmy the smith is a-gone down the leane
A-playen 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 pie an' his cider can.

Tha'da zay that tis zom'hat in towns to zee
Fresh fiazen vrom day to day:
Tha'mid zee em var me, ef the two or dree
I da love should but smile an'stay.
Zoo gi'e me the sky,
An' the air an' the zun,
An' a huome in the dell wher the water da run,
An' there let me live an´die.

William Barnes