Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/100

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been validated.
84
POEMS OF RURAL LIFE.

To dry the leaves the raïn do wet
 An’ evenèn aïr do bring along
 The merry deäiry-maïden’s zong,
  The zong of free light hearts, John.

Oh! why do vo’k so often chaïn
Their pinèn minds vor love o’ gaïn,
An’ gi’e their innocence to rise
A little in the worold’s eyes?
If pride could lift us to the skies,
 What man do value God do slight,
 An’ all is nothèn in his zight
  ’Ithout an honest heart, John.

An ugly feäce can’t bribe the brooks
To show it back young han’some looks,
Nor crooked vo’k intice the light
To cast their zummer sheädes upright:
Noo goold can blind our Meäker’s zight.
 An’ what’s the odds what cloth do hide
 The bosom that do hold inside
  A free an’ honest heart, John?

THE WELSHNUT TREE.

When in the evenèn the zun’s a-zinkèn,
 A-drowèn sheädes vrom the yollow west,
An’ mother, weary, ’s a-zot a thinkèn,
 Wi’ vwolded eärms by the vire at rest,
    Then we do zwarm, O,
    Wi’ such a charm, O,
 So vull o’ glee by the welshnut tree.

A-leavèn father in-doors, a-leinèn

 In his girt chair in his easy shoes,