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A funny poem from our vast
collection of 100000 poems by famous and less famous
poets - enjoy! The Widow's House
<< A Poem by Walt Whitman >>
I went hwome in the dead o' the night,
When the vields wer all empty o' vo'k,
An' the tuns at their cool-winded height
Wer all dark, an all cwold 'ithout smoke;
An' the heads o' the trees that I pass'd
Wer a-swa’čn wi' low ruslčn sound,
An' the doust wer a-whirl'd wi' the blast,
Aye, a smeech wi' the wind on the ground.
Then I come by the young widow's hatch,
Down below the wold elem's tall head,
But noo vingers did lift up the latch,
Vor the vo'k wer so still as the dead;
But inside, to a tree a-meäde vast,
Wer the childern's light swing , a-hung low,
An' a-rock'd by the brisk blowčn blast,
Aye, a-swung by the win' to an' fro.
Vor the childern, wi' pillow-borne head,
Had vorgotten their swing on the lawn,
An' their father, asleep wi' the dead,
Had vorgotten his work at the dawn;
An' their mother, a vew stilly hours,
Had vorgotten where he slept so sound,
Where the wind wer a sheäkčn the flow'rs,
Aye, the blast the feäir buds on the ground.
Oh! the moon, wi' his peäle lighted skies,
Have his sorrowless sleepers below,
But by day to the zun they must rise
To their true lives o' tweil an' ov ho.
Then the childern wull rise to their fun,
An' their mother mwore sorrow to veel,
While the air is a warm'd by the zun,
Aye, the win' by the day's viry wheel.
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