THE copse ha' got his shiady boughs, Wi' blackbirds' evemen whissles; The hills ha' sheep upon ther brows, The zummerleäze ha' thissles. The meads be gay in grassy May, But O vrom hill to holler, Let I look down upon a groun' O' carn a-turnen yoller. An' pease da grow in tangled beds, An' beäns be sweet to snuff, O; The tiaper woats da bend ther heads, The barley's beard is rough, O; The turnip green is fresh between The carn in hill ar holler, But I'd look down upon the groun' O' wheat a-turnen yoller. 'Tis merry when the brawny men Da come to reap it down, O, Wher glossy red the poppy head 'S among the sta'ks so brown, O; 'Tis merry while the wheat's in hile Ar when, by hill ar holler, The leäzers thick da stoop to pick The ears so ripe ar yoller. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PISCATAQUA RIVER by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH VASHTI by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER BELISARIUS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SHILOH; A REQUIEM by HERMAN MELVILLE MODERN LOVE: 30 by GEORGE MEREDITH THE OWL (1) by ALFRED TENNYSON TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE REV. GILBERT WAKEFIELD by LUCY AIKEN EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 17. THE DIFFICULT ADVENTURE by PHILIP AYRES |