True Love
As evenen air, in green-treed Spring,Do sheaeke the new-sprung pa'sley bed,An' wither'd ash-tree keys do swingAn' vall a-flutt'ren roun' our head:There, while the birds do zing their zongIn bushes down the ash-tree drong,Come Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaeceYour vaice an' feaece can meaeke vor me.
Below the budden ashes' heightWe there can linger in the lew,While boughs, a-gilded by the light,Do sheen avore the sky o' blue:But there by zetten zun, or moonA-risen, time wull vlee too soonWi' Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaeceHer vaice an' feaece can meaeke vor me.
Down where the darksome brook do flow,Below the bridge's arched wall,Wi' alders dark, a-leanen low,Above the gloomy watervall;There I've a-led ye hwome at night,Wi' noo feaece else 'ithin my zightBut yours so feaeir, an' sweet's the pleaeceYour vaice an' feaece ha' meaede me there.
An' oh! when other years do come,An' zetten zuns, wi' yollow gleaere,Drough western window-peaenes, at hwome,Do light upon my evenen chair:While day do weaene, an' dew do vall,Be wi' me then, or else in call,As time do vlee, vor sweet's the pleaeceYour vaice an' feaece do meaeke vor me.
Ah! you do smile, a-thinken lightO' my true words, but never mind;Smile on, smile on, but still your flightWould leaeve me little jay behind:But let me not be zoo a-triedWi' you a-lost where I do bide,O Jessie Lee, in any pleaeceYour vaice an' feaece ha' blest vor me.
I'm sure that when a soul's a-broughtTo this our life ov air an' land,Woone mwore's a-mark'd in God's good thought,To help, wi' love, his heart an' hand.An' oh! if there should be in storeAn angel here vor my poor door,'Tis Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaeceHer vaice an' feace can meaeke vor me.
Words in this poem
- sheen v. i.
- To shine; to glisten.
- darksome a.
- Dark; gloomy; obscure; shaded; cheerless.
- bide v. i.
- To dwell; to inhabit; to abide; to stay. [OE. biden, AS. bidan; akin to OHG. bitan, Goth. beidan, Icel. bi; perh. orig., to wait with trust, and akin to bid. See Bid, v. t., and cf. Abide.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
True Love is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect, Project Gutenberg ebook #21785; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: William Barnes, True Love, in Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect (1844–1862), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #21785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/barnes-dorset/true-love.html, id L02220.
Form and metre
True Love is 48 lines in 6 stanzas of 8 lines each. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 100% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.1 syllables. 35% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABABCC-- springA · bedB · swingA · headB · zongC · drongC · pleaece · me
- 2 ABABCC-- heightA · lewB · lightA · blueB · moonC · soonC · pleaece · me
- 3 ABABCC-- flowA · wallB · lowA · watervallB · nightC · zightC · pleaece · there
- 5 ABABCC-- lightA · mindB · flightA · behindB · triedC · bideC · pleaece · me
- 6 ABABCC-- broughtA · landB · thoughtA · handB · storeC · doorC · pleaece · me
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| As evenen air, in green-treed Spring, | 9 | ········· |
| Do sheaeke the new-sprung pa'sley bed, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| An' wither'd ash-tree keys do swing | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| An' vall a-flutt'ren roun' our head: | 8 | ······/· |
| There, while the birds do zing their zong | 8 | ········ |
| In bushes down the ash-tree drong, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Come Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaece | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Your vaice an' feaece can meaeke vor me. | 8 | ········ |
| Below the budden ashes' height | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| We there can linger in the lew, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| While boughs, a-gilded by the light, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Do sheen avore the sky o' blue: | 8 | ········ |
| But there by zetten zun, or moon | 8 | ········ |
| A-risen, time wull vlee too soon | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Wi' Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaece | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Her vaice an' feaece can meaeke vor me. | 8 | ········ |
| Down where the darksome brook do flow, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Below the bridge's arched wall, | 8 | ···/˘·˘· |
| Wi' alders dark, a-leanen low, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Above the gloomy watervall; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| There I've a-led ye hwome at night, | 8 | ········ |
| Wi' noo feaece else 'ithin my zight | 8 | ········ |
| But yours so feaeir, an' sweet's the pleaece | 8 | ········ |
| Your vaice an' feaece ha' meaede me there. | 8 | ········ |
| An' oh! when other years do come, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| An' zetten zuns, wi' yollow gleaere, | 8 | ········ |
| Drough western window-peaenes, at hwome, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Do light upon my evenen chair: | 9 | ········· |
| While day do weaene, an' dew do vall, | 8 | ········ |
| Be wi' me then, or else in call, | 8 | ········ |
| As time do vlee, vor sweet's the pleaece | 8 | ········ |
| Your vaice an' feaece do meaeke vor me. | 8 | ········ |
| Ah! you do smile, a-thinken light | 8 | ········ |
| O' my true words, but never mind; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Smile on, smile on, but still your flight | 8 | ········ |
| Would leaeve me little jay behind: | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| But let me not be zoo a-tried | 8 | ········ |
| Wi' you a-lost where I do bide, | 8 | ········ |
| O Jessie Lee, in any pleaece | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Your vaice an' feaece ha' blest vor me. | 8 | ········ |
| I'm sure that when a soul's a-brought | 8 | ········ |
| To this our life ov air an' land, | 8 | ··/····· |
| Woone mwore's a-mark'd in God's good thought, | 8 | ········ |
| To help, wi' love, his heart an' hand. | 8 | ········ |
| An' oh! if there should be in store | 8 | ········ |
| An angel here vor my poor door, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| 'Tis Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaece | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Her vaice an' feace can meaeke vor me. | 8 | ········ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.