Here you will find the Poem The Peasant's Return of poet William Barnes
And passing here through evening dew, He hastened happy to her door, But found the old folk only two With no more footsteps on the floor To walk again below the skies Where beaten paths do fall and rise. For she wer gone from earthly eyes To be a-kept in darksome sleep Until the good again do rise A joy to souls they left to weep. The rose were dust that bound her brow; The moth did eat her Sunday cape; Her frock were out of fashion now; Her shoes were dried up out of shape.
