Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE TURNSTILE, by WILLIAM BARNES



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THE TURNSTILE, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Ah! Sad were we as we did peace
Last Line: His last white arms, and they stood still.
Subject(s): Death - Children; Death - Babies


Ah! sad wer we as we did peace
The wold church road, wi' downcast feace,
The while the bells, that mwoan'd so deep
Above our child a-left asleep,
Were now a-zingen all alive
With tother bells to make the vive.
But up at woone place we come by,
'Twer 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 go
To church, thick stile did let us drough,
With spreaden arms that wheel'd to guide
Us each in turn to tother side.
And vu'st of all the train he took
My wife, with winsome gait and look;
And then zent on my little maid,
A-skippen onward, overjoyed
To reach again the place of pride,
Her comely mother's left hand zide.
And then, a-wheelin roun', he took
On me, 'ithin his third while nook.
And in the fourth, a-shaken wild,
He zent us on our giddy child.
By eesterday he guided slow
My downcast Jenny, vull of woe,
And then my little maid in black,
A-walken softly on her track:
And after he a-turned again,
To let me go along the lane,
He had no little boy to fill
His last white arms, and they stood still.





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