Since I noo mwore do zee your fe{"a}ce, <br /> Up ste{"a}rs or down below, <br /> I'll zit me in the lwonesome ple{"a}ce, <br /> Where flat-bough'd beech do grow; <br /> Below the beeches' bough, my love, <br /> Where you did never come, <br /> An' I don't look to meet ye now, <br /> As I do look at hwome. <br /> <br /> Since you noo mwore be at my zide, <br /> In walks in zummer het, <br /> I'll goo alwone where mist do ride, <br /> Drough trees a-drippèn wet; <br /> Below the ra{"i}n-wet bough, my love, <br /> Where you did never come, <br /> An' I don't grieve to miss ye now, <br /> As I do grieve at hwome. <br /> <br /> Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard <br /> Your va{"i}ce do never sound, <br /> I'll eat the bit I can avword, <br /> A-vield upon the ground; <br /> Below the darksome bough, my love, <br /> Where you did never dine, <br /> An' I don't grieve to miss ye now, <br /> As I at hwome do pine. <br /> <br /> Since I do miss your va{"i}ce an' fe{"a}ce <br /> In pra{"y}er at eventide, <br /> I'll pray wi' woone sad va{"i}ce vor gre{"a}ce <br /> To goo where you do bide; <br /> Above the tree an' bough, my love, <br /> Where you be gone avore, <br /> An' be a-w{"a}itèn vor me now, <br /> To come vor evermwore.<br /><br />William Barnes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wife-a-lost-the/
