MRS. CARTER speaks:
We came oot here in ’87,
A lang, lang way ower sea;
A renky chap wur my Bill an*
I wur just twenty-three ;
Ay, we did well. In ’35
I lost him. My! it’s queer,
Tho’ Sydney is my home, these days
My thowts is niver here,
But back at Malham Tarn, wheer Bill
An’ I kissed. Times, I smell
Flowers oft’ whin on t’ lile wind
Laiking round Malham Fell ;
An’ I can see agen t’ mill race
An’ watch t’ owd hawthorns shower
Theer petals ower meadows wheer
White leddies-smock wud flower.
Shrill sirens from them Yankee ships
I doant hear when I hark
A linny call at t’ routering time,
In t’ wood at t’ edge of dark.
I see again my Muther spread
Our washin’ oot on t’ grass. . ..
But Bill is gone an’ cannot say,
‘Wake up! Thoo’s dreamin’. Lass.’
(Dorothy Una Ratcliffe)
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Based on Topics: Time Poems, Flowers Poems, Home Poems, Speaking PoemsBased on Keywords: wur, washin, theer, wud, hawthorns, niver, oot, agen, owd, ower, tarn