WILLIAM BARNES

��Of my little lad, Gone to leave me sad, Ay, the child I had, But was not to keep.

As in heaven high, I my child did seek,

There in train came by Children fair and meek,

Each in lily white,

With a lamp alight;

Each was clear to sight, But they did not speak.

Then, a little sad,

Came my child in turn, But the lamp he had,

O it did not burn ! He, to clear my doubt, Said, half turn'd about,, 'Your tears put it out;

Mother, never mourn.*

��The Wife a-lost

OINCE I noo mwore do zee your feace,

^ Up stears or down below,

I'll zit me in the Iwonesome pleace,

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.

�� �