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diff --git a/21785-8.txt b/21785-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4033cfb --- /dev/null +++ b/21785-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19565 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect, by +William Barnes + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect + +Author: William Barnes + +Release Date: June 9, 2007 [EBook #21785] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF RURAL LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Lesley Halamek and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: The Pronunciation Guide and Word List are at the end +of the book.] + + + + + +_POEMS OF RURAL LIFE IN THE DORSET DIALECT._ + +BY WILLIAM BARNES. + + +[Illustration] + + +LONDON: KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRÜBNER & Co., LTD. 1903 + + + + + + +_TO THE READER._ + + +KIND READER, + +Two of the three Collections of these Dorset Poems have been, for some +time, out of print, and the whole of the three sets are now brought +out in one volume. + +I have little more to say for them, than that the writing of them +as glimpses of life and landscape in Dorset, which often open to +my memory and mindsight, has given me very much pleasure; and my +happiness would be enhanced if I could believe that you would feel my +sketches to be so truthful and pleasing as to give you even a small +share of pleasure, such as that of the memories from which I have +written them. + +This edition has a list of such Dorset words as are found in the +Poems, with some hints on Dorset word shapes, and I hope that they +will be found a fully good key to the meanings of the verse. + + +Yours kindly, + +W. BARNES + +_June 1879._ + + + + + +CONTENTS. + +FIRST COLLECTION. + + +SPRING. + +The Spring 3 +The Woodlands 4 +Leädy-Day, an' Riddčn House 5 +Easter Zunday 8 +Easter Monday 9 +Dock-Leaves 9 +The Blackbird 10 +Woodcom' Feäst 12 +The Milk-Maīd o' the Farm 13 +The Girt Woak Tree that's in the Dell 15 +Vellčn o' the Tree 16 +Bringčn Woone Gwaīn o' Zundays 17 +Evenčn Twilight 18 +Evenčn in the Village 20 +May 20 +Bob the Fiddler 22 +Hope in Spring 23 +The White Road up athirt the Hill 24 +The Woody Hollow 25 +Jenny's Ribbons 26 +Eclogue:--The 'Lotments 28 +Eclogue:--A Bit o' Sly Coortčn 30 + + +SUMMER. + +Evenčn, an' Maīdens out at Door 34 +The Shepherd o' the Farm 35 +Vields in the Light 36 +Whitsuntide an' Club Walkčn 37 +Woodley 39 +The Brook that Ran by Gramfer's 41 +Sleep did come wi' the Dew 42 +Sweet Music in the Wind 43 +Uncle an' Aunt 44 +Havčn Woones Fortune a-twold 46 +Jeäne's Weddčn Day in Mornčn 47 +Rivers don't gi'e out 49 +Meäken up a Miff 50 +Ha˙-Meäken 51 +Ha˙-Carrčn 52 +Eclogue:--The Best Man in the Vield 54 +Where we did keep our Flagon 57 +Week's End in Zummer, in the Wold Vo'k's Time 58 +The Meäd a-mow'd 60 +The Sky a-cleärčn 61 +The Evenčn Star o' Zummer 62 +The Clote 63 +I got two Vields 65 +Polly be-čn upzides wi' Tom 66 +Be'mi'ster 67 +Thatchčn o' the Rick 68 +Bees a-Zwarmčn 69 +Readčn ov a Head-stwone 70 +Zummer Evenčn Dance 71 +Eclogue:--The Veäiries 72 + + +FALL. + +Corn a-turnčn Yollow 76 +A-Haulčn o' the Corn 77 +Harvest Hwome:--The vu'st Peärt 78 +Harvest Hwome:--Second Peärt 79 +A Zong ov Harvest Hwome 80 +Poll's Jack-Daw 82 +The Ivy 83 +The Welshnut Tree 84 +Jenny out vrom Hwome 86 +Grenley Water 86 +The Veäiry Veet that I do meet 87 +Mornčn 88 +Out a-Nuttčn 90 +Teäkčn in Apples 91 +Meäple Leaves be Yollow 92 +Night a-zettčn in 93 +The Weather-beäten Tree 94 +Shrodon Feäir:--The vu'st Peärt 95 +Shrodon Feäir:--The rest o't 96 +Martin's Tide 97 +Guy Faux's Night 99 +Eclogue:--The Common a-took in 100 +Eclogue:--Two Farms in Woone 102 + + +WINTER. + +The Vrost 105 +A Bit o' Fun 106 +Fanny's Be'th-day 107 +What Dick an' I did 109 +Grammer's Shoes 111 +Zunsheen in the Winter 112 +The Weepčn Leädy 113 +The Happy Days when I wer Young 115 +In the Stillness o' the Night 116 +The Settle an' the Girt Wood Vire 117 +The Carter 118 +Chris'mas Invitation 120 +Keepčn up o' Chris'mas 121 +Zittčn out the Wold Year 122 +Woak wer Good Enough Woonce 123 +Lullaby 124 +Meäry-Ann's Child 125 +Eclogue:--Father Come Hwome 126 +Eclogue:--A Ghost 129 + + +SUNDRY PIECES. + +A Zong 133 +The Maīd vor my Bride 134 +The Hwomestead 135 +The Farmer's Woldest D[=a]'ter 136 +Uncle out o' Debt an' out o' Danger 137 +The Church an' Happy Zunday 140 +The Wold Waggon 141 +The Drčven o' the Common 142 +The Common a-took in 143 +A Wold Friend 145 +The Rwose that Deck'd her Breast 145 +Nanny's Cow 147 +The Shep'erd Bwoy 148 +Hope a-left Behind 149 +A Good Father 150 +The Beam in Grenley Church 151 +The Vaīces that be Gone 152 +Poll 153 +Looks a-know'd Avore 154 +The Music o' the Dead 155 +The Pleäce a Teäle's a-twold o' 156 +Aunt's Tantrums 158 +The Stwončn Pworch 159 +Farmer's Sons 160 +Jeäne 161 +The Dree Woaks 162 +The Hwomestead a-vell into Hand 164 +The Guide Post 166 +Gwain to Feäir 167 +Jeäne o' Grenley Mill 168 +The Bells ov Alderburnham 169 +The Girt Wold House o' Mossy Stwone 170 +A Witch 173 +Eclogue:--The Times 175 + + + * * * * * + + +SECOND COLLECTION. + +Blackmwore Maīdens 185 +My Orcha'd in Lindčn Lea 186 +Bishop's Caundle 187 +Hay Meäkčn--Nunchen Time 189 +A Father out an' Mother Hwome 191 +Riddles 192 +Day's Work a-done 196 +Light or Sheäde 197 +The Waggon a-stooded 197 +Gwaīn down the Steps 201 +Ellen Brine ov Allenburn 202 +The Motherless Child 203 +The Leädy's Tower 204 +Fatherhood 208 +The Maīd o' Newton 211 +Childhood 212 +Meäry's Smile 213 +Meäry Wedded 214 +The Stwončn Bwoy 215 +The Young that died in Beauty 217 +Fäir Emily of Yarrow Mill 218 +The Scud 219 +Mindčn House 221 +The Lovely Maīd ov Elwell Meäd 222 +Our Fathers' Works 224 +The Wold vo'k Dead 225 +Culver Dell and the Squire 227 +Our Be'thplace 229 +The Window freämed wi' Stwone 230 +The Waterspring in the Leäne 231 +The Poplars 232 +The Linden on the Lawn 233 +Our abode in Arby Wood 235 +Slow to come, quick agone 236 +The Vier-zide 236 +Knowlwood 238 +Hallowed Pleäces 240 +The Wold Wall 242 +Bleäke's House 243 +John Bleäke at Hwome 245 +Milkčn Time 247 +When Birds be Still 248 +Ridčn Hwome at Night 249 +Zun-zet. 250 +Spring 252 +The Zummer Hedge 253 +The Water Crowvoot 254 +The Lilac 255 +The Blackbird 256 +The Slantčn light o' Fall 257 +Thissledown 259 +The May-tree 259 +The Lydlinch Bells 260 +The Stage Coach 261 +Wayfeärčn 263 +The Leäne 265 +The Raīlroad 267 +The Raīlroad 268 +Seats 268 +Sound o' Water 270 +Trees be Company 270 +A Pleäce in Zight 272 +Gwaīn to Brookwell 273 +Brookwell 275 +The Shy Man 277 +The Winter's Willow 279 +I know Who 281 +Jessie Lee 282 +True Love 283 +The Beän-vield 284 +Wold Friends a-met 286 +Fifehead 288 +Ivy Hall 289 +False Friends-like 290 +The Bachelor 290 +Married Peäir's Love-walk 292 +A Wife a-praīs'd 293 +The Wife a-lost 295 +The Thorns in the Geäte 296 +Angels by the Door 297 +Vo'k a-comčn into Church 298 +Woone Rule 299 +Good Meäster Collins 300 +Herrčnston 302 +Out at Plough 304 +The Bwoat 306 +The Pleäce our own agean 307 +Eclogue:--John an' Thomas 308 +Pentridge by the River 310 +Wheat 311 +The Meäd in June 313 +Early risén 315 +Zelling woone's Honey 316 +Dobbin Dead 317 +Happiness 319 +Gruffmoody Grim 320 +The Turn o' the Days 322 +The Sparrow Club 323 +Gammony Ga˙ 325 +The Heäre 327 +Nanny Gill 329 +Moonlight on the Door 330 +My Love's Guardian Angel 331 +Leeburn Mill 332 +Praise o' Do'set 333 + + +THIRD COLLECTION. + +Woone Smile Mwore 339 +The Echo 340 +Vull a Man 341 +Naighbour Pla˙meätes 343 +The Lark 345 +The Two Churches 345 +Woak Hill 347 +The Hedger 348 +In the Spring 349 +The Flood in Spring 350 +Comen Hwome 351 +Grammer a-crippled 352 +The Castle Ruins 354 +Eclogue:--John jealous 355 +Early Pla˙meäte 359 +Pickčn o' Scroff 360 +Good Night 361 +Went Hwome 362 +The Hollow Woak 363 +Childern's Childern 364 +The Rwose in the Dark 365 +Come 366 +Zummer Winds 367 +The Neäme Letters 368 +The New House a-gettčn Wold 370 +Zunday 370 +The Pillar'd Geäte 371 +Zummer Stream 373 +Zummer Stream 373 +Linda Deäne 374 +Eclogue:--Come an' zee us 376 +Lindenore 377 +Me'th below the Tree 378 +Treat well your Wife 379 +The Child an' the Mowers 381 +The Love Child 382 +Hawthorn Down 383 +Oben Vields 385 +What John wer a-tellčn 386 +Sheädes 387 +Times o' Year 387 +Eclogue:--Racketčn Joe 388 +Zummer an' Winter 391 +To Me 392 +Two an' Two 393 +The Lew o' the Rick 394 +The Wind in Woone's Feäce 395 +Tokens 396 +Tweil 396 +Fancy 398 +The Broken Heart 399 +Evenčn Light 400 +Vields by Watervalls 401 +The Wheel Routs 402 +Nanny's new Abode 403 +Leaves a-vallčn 404 +Lizzie 405 +Blessens a-left 406 +Fall Time 407 +Fall 408 +The Zilver-weed 409 +The Widow's House 409 +The Child's Greäve 410 +Went vrom Hwome 412 +The Fancy Feäir 412 +Things do Come Round 414 +Zummer Thoughts in Winter Time 415 +I'm out o' Door 416 +Grief an' Gladness 417 +Slidčn 418 +Lwonesomeness 420 +A Snowy Night 421 +The Year-clock 421 +Not goo Hwome To-night 424 +The Humstrum 426 +Shaftesbury Feäir 427 +The Beäten Path 429 +Ruth a-ridčn 430 +Beauty Undecked 432 +My love is good 432 +Heedless o' my love 434 +The Do'set Militia 435 +A Do'set Sale 437 +Don't ceäre 437 +Changes 439 +Kindness 440 +Withstanders 441 +Daniel Dwithen 442 +Turnčn things off 444 +The Giants in Treädes 445 +The Little Worold 447 +Bad News 448 +The Turnstile 449 +The Better vor zečn o' you 450 +Pity 451 +John Bloom in Lon'on 453 +A Lot o' Maīdens 456 + + + + +POEMS OF RURAL LIFE. + +FIRST COLLECTION. + + + + +SPRING. + + + + +THE SPRING. + + + When wintry weather's all a-done, + An' brooks do sparkle in the zun, + An' nâisy-buildčn rooks do vlee + Wi' sticks toward their elem tree; + When birds do zing, an' we can zee + Upon the boughs the buds o' spring,-- + Then I'm as happy as a king, + A-vield wi' health an' zunsheen. + + Vor then the cowslip's hangčn flow'r + A-wetted in the zunny show'r, + Do grow wi' vi'lets, sweet o' smell, + Bezide the wood-screen'd grægle's bell; + Where drushes' aggs, wi' sky-blue shell, + Do lie in mossy nest among + The thorns, while they do zing their zong + At evenčn in the zunsheen. + + An' God do meäke his win' to blow + An' raīn to vall vor high an' low, + An' bid his mornčn zun to rise + Vor all alike, an' groun' an' skies + Ha' colors vor the poor man's eyes: + An' in our trials He is near, + To hear our mwoan an' zee our tear, + An' turn our clouds to zunsheen. + + An' many times when I do vind + Things all goo wrong, an' vo'k unkind, + To zee the happy veedčn herds, + An' hear the zingčn o' the birds, + Do soothe my sorrow mwore than words; + Vor I do zee that 'tis our sin + Do meäke woone's soul so dark 'ithin, + When God would gi'e woone zunsheen. + + + + +THE WOODLANDS. + + + O spread ageän your leaves an' flow'rs, + Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands! + Here underneath the dewy show'rs + O' warm-aīr'd spring-time, zunny woodlands! + As when, in drong or open ground, + Wi' happy bwoyish heart I vound + The twitt'rčn birds a-buildčn round + Your high-bough'd hedges, zunny woodlands. + + You gie'd me life, you gie'd me ja˙, + Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands + You gie'd me health, as in my pla˙ + I rambled through ye, zunny woodlands! + You gie'd me freedom, vor to rove + In aīry meäd or sheädy grove; + You gie'd me smilčn Fannčy's love, + The best ov all o't, zunny woodlands! + + My vu'st shrill skylark whiver'd high, + Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands! + To zing below your deep-blue sky + An' white spring-clouds, O zunny woodlands! + An' boughs o' trees that woonce stood here, + Wer glossy green the happy year + That gie'd me woone I lov'd so dear, + An' now ha' lost, O zunny woodlands! + + O let me rove ageän unspied, + Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands! + Along your green-bough'd hedges' zide, + As then I rambled, zunny woodlands! + An' where the missčn trees woonce stood, + Or tongues woonce rung among the wood, + My memory shall meäke em good, + Though you've a-lost em, zunny woodlands! + + + + +LEADY-DAY, AN' RIDDEN HOUSE. + + + Aye, back at Leädy-Day, you know, + I come vrom Gullybrook to Stowe; + At Leädy-Day I took my pack + O' rottletraps, an' turn'd my back + Upon the weather-beäten door, + That had a-screen'd, so long avore, + The mwost that theäse zide o' the greäve, + I'd live to have, or die to seäve! + My childern, an' my vier-pleäce, + Where Molly wi' her cheerful feäce, + When I'd a-trod my wat'ry road + Vrom night-bedarken'd vields abrode, + Wi' nimble hands, at evenčn, blest + Wi' vire an' vood my hard-won rest; + The while the little woones did clim', + So sleek-skinn'd, up from lim' to lim', + Till, strugglčn hard an' clingčn tight, + They reach'd at last my feäce's height. + All tryčn which could soonest hold + My mind wi' little teäles they twold. + An' riddčn house is such a caddle, + I shan't be over keen vor mwore [=o]'t, + Not yet a while, you mid be sure [=o]'t,-- + I'd rather keep to woone wold staddle. + + Well, zoo, avore the east begun + To redden wi' the comčn zun, + We left the beds our mossy thatch + Wer never mwore to overstratch, + An' borrow'd uncle's wold hoss _Dragon_, + To bring the slowly lumbrčn waggon, + An' when he come, we vell a-packčn + The bedsteads, wi' their rwopes an' zackčn; + An' then put up the wold eärm-chair, + An' cwoffer vull ov e'then-ware, + An' vier-dogs, an' copper kittle, + Wi' crocks an' saucepans, big an' little; + An' fryčn-pan, vor aggs to slide + In butter round his hissčn zide, + An' gridire's even bars, to bear + The drippčn steäke above the gleäre + O' brightly-glowčn coals. An' then, + All up o' top o' them ageän + The woaken bwoard, where we did eat + Our croust o' bread or bit o' meat,-- + An' when the bwoard wer up, we tied + Upon the reäves, along the zide, + The woäken stools, his glossy meätes, + Bwoth when he's beäre, or when the pleätes + Do clatter loud wi' knives, below + Our merry feäces in a row. + An' put between his lags, turn'd up'ard, + The zalt-box an' the corner cupb'ard. + An' then we laid the wold clock-ceäse, + All dumb, athirt upon his feäce, + Vor we'd a-left, I needen tell ye, + Noo works 'ithin his head or belly. + An' then we put upon the pack + The settle, flat upon his back; + An' after that, a-tied in pairs + In woone another, all the chairs, + An' bits o' lumber wo'th a ride, + An' at the very top a-tied, + The childern's little stools did lie, + Wi' lags a-turn'd towárd the sky: + Zoo there we lwoaded up our scroff, + An' tied it vast, an' started off. + An',--as the waggon cooden car all + We had to teäke,--the butter-barrel + An' cheese-wring, wi' his twinčn screw, + An' all the paīls an' veäts, an' blue + Wold milk leads, and a vew things mwore, + Wer all a-carr'd the day avore, + And when the mwost ov our wold stuff + Wer brought outside o' thik brown ruf, + I rambled roun' wi' narrow looks, + In fusty holes an' darksome nooks, + To gather all I still mid vind, + O' rags or sticks a-left behind. + An' there the unlatch'd doors did creak, + A-swung by winds, a-streamčn weak + Drough empty rooms, an' meäkčn sad + My heart, where me'th woonce meäde me glad. + Vor when a man do leäve the he'th + An' ruf where vu'st he drew his breath, + Or where he had his bwoyhood's fun, + An' things wer woonce a-zaid an' done + That took his mind, do touch his heart + A little bit, I'll answer vor't. + Zoo riddčn house is such a caddle, + That I would rather keep my staddle. + + + + +EASTER ZUNDAY. + + + Last Easter Jim put on his blue + Frock cwoat, the vu'st time--vier new; + Wi' yollow buttons all o' brass, + That glitter'd in the zun lik' glass; + An' pok'd 'ithin the button-hole + A tutty he'd a-begg'd or stole. + A span-new wes'co't, too, he wore, + Wi' yollow stripes all down avore; + An' tied his breeches' lags below + The knee, wi' ribbon in a bow; + An' drow'd his kitty-boots azide, + An' put his laggčns on, an' tied + His shoes wi' strings two vingers wide, + Because 'twer Easter Zunday. + + An' after mornčn church wer out + He come back hwome, an' stroll'd about + All down the vields, an' drough the leäne, + Wi' sister Kit an' cousin Jeäne, + A-turnčn proudly to their view + His yollow breast an' back o' blue. + The lambs did pla˙, the grounds wer green, + The trees did bud, the zun did sheen; + The lark did zing below the sky, + An' roads wer all a-blown so dry, + As if the zummer wer begun; + An' he had sich a bit o' fun! + He meäde the maīdens squeäl an' run, + Because 'twer Easter Zunday. + + + + +EASTER MONDAY. + + + An' zoo o' Monday we got drough + Our work betimes, an ax'd a vew + Young vo'k vrom Stowe an' Coom, an' zome + Vrom uncle's down at Grange, to come. + An' they so spry, wi' merry smiles, + Did beät the path an' leäp the stiles, + Wi' two or dree young chaps bezide, + To meet an' keep up Easter tide: + Vor we'd a-zaid avore, we'd git + Zome friends to come, an' have a bit + O' fun wi' me, an' Jeäne, an' Kit, + Because 'twer Easter Monday. + + An' there we pla˙'d away at quaīts, + An' weigh'd ourzelves wi' sceäles an' waīghts; + An' jump'd to zee who jump'd the spryest, + An' sprung the vurdest an' the highest; + An' rung the bells vor vull an hour. + An' pla˙'d at vives ageän the tower. + An' then we went an' had a taīt, + An' cousin Sammy, wi' his waīght, + Broke off the bar, he wer so fat! + An' toppled off, an' vell down flat + Upon his head, an' squot his hat, + Because 'twer Easter Monday. + + + + +DOCK-LEAVES. + + + The dock-leaves that do spread so wide + Up yonder zunny bank's green zide, + Do bring to mind what we did do + At pla˙ wi' dock-leaves years agoo: + How we,--when nettles had a-stung + Our little hands, when we wer young,-- + Did rub em wi' a dock, an' zing + "_Out nettl', in dock. In dock, out sting._" + An' when your feäce, in zummer's het, + Did sheen wi' tricklčn draps o' zweat, + How you, a-zot bezide the bank, + Didst toss your little head, an' pank, + An' teäke a dock-leaf in your han', + An' whisk en lik' a leädy's fan; + While I did hunt, 'ithin your zight, + Vor streaky cockle-shells to fight. + + In all our pla˙-geämes we did bruise + The dock-leaves wi' our nimble shoes; + Bwoth where we merry chaps did fling + You maīdens in the orcha'd swing, + An' by the zaw-pit's dousty bank, + Where we did taīt upon a plank. + --(D'ye mind how woonce, you cou'den zit + The bwoard, an' vell off into pit?) + An' when we hunted you about + The grassy barken, in an' out + Among the ricks, your vlče-čn frocks + An' nimble veet did strik' the docks. + An' zoo they docks, a-spread so wide + Up yonder zunny bank's green zide, + Do bring to mind what we did do, + Among the dock-leaves years agoo. + + + + +THE BLACKBIRD. + + + Ov all the birds upon the wing + Between the zunny show'rs o' spring,-- + Vor all the lark, a-swingčn high, + Mid zing below a cloudless sky. + An' sparrows, clust'rčn roun' the bough, + Mid chatter to the men at plough,-- + The blackbird, whisslčn in among + The boughs, do zing the ga˙est zong. + + Vor we do hear the blackbird zing + His sweetest ditties in the spring, + When nippčn win's noo mwore do blow + Vrom northern skies, wi' sleet or snow, + But dr[=e]ve light doust along between + The leäne-zide hedges, thick an' green; + An' zoo the blackbird in among + The boughs do zing the ga˙est zong. + + 'Tis blithe, wi' newly-open'd eyes, + To zee the mornčn's ruddy skies; + Or, out a-haulčn frith or lops + Vrom new-pl[=e]sh'd hedge or new-vell'd copse, + To rest at noon in primrwose beds + Below the white-bark'd woak-trees' heads; + But there's noo time, the whole däy long, + Lik' evenčn wi' the blackbird's zong. + + Vor when my work is all a-done + Avore the zettčn o' the zun, + Then blushčn Jeäne do walk along + The hedge to meet me in the drong, + An' sta˙ till all is dim an' dark + Bezides the ashen tree's white bark; + An' all bezides the blackbird's shrill + An' runnčn evenčn-whissle's still. + + An' there in bwoyhood I did rove + Wi' pryčn eyes along the drove + To vind the nest the blackbird meäde + O' grass-stalks in the high bough's sheäde: + Or clim' aloft, wi' clingčn knees, + Vor crows' aggs up in swa˙čn trees, + While frighten'd blackbirds down below + Did chatter o' their little foe. + An' zoo there's noo pleäce lik' the drong, + Where I do hear the blackbird's zong. + + + + +WOODCOM' FEAST. + + + Come, Fanny, come! put on thy white, + 'Tis Woodcom' feäst, good now! to-night. + Come! think noo mwore, you silly maīd, + O' chickčn drown'd, or ducks a-stra˙'d; + Nor mwope to vind thy new frock's taīl + A-tore by hitchčn in a naīl; + Nor grieve an' hang thy head azide, + A-thinkčn o' thy lam' that died. + The flag's a-vlečn wide an' high, + An' ringčn bells do sheäke the sky; + The fifes do play, the horns do roar, + An' boughs be up at ev'ry door: + They 'll be a-dancčn soon,--the drum + 'S a-rumblčn now. Come, Fanny, come! + Why father's gone, an' mother too. + They went up leäne an hour agoo; + An' at the green the young and wold + Do stan' so thick as sheep in vwold: + The men do laugh, the bwoys do shout,-- + Come out you mwopčn wench, come out, + An' go wi' me, an' show at leäst + Bright eyes an' smiles at Woodcom' feäst. + + Come, let's goo out, an' fling our heels + About in jigs an' vow'r-han' reels; + While äll the stiff-lagg'd wolder vo'k, + A-zittčn roun', do talk an' joke + An' smile to zee their own wold rigs. + A-show'd by our wild geämes an' jigs. + Vor ever since the vwold church speer + Vu'st prick'd the clouds, vrom year to year, + When grass in meäd did reach woone's knees, + An' blooth did kern in apple-trees, + Zome merry day 'v' a-broke to sheen + Above the dance at Woodcom' green, + An' all o' they that now do lie + So low all roun' the speer so high, + Woonce, vrom the biggest to the leäst, + Had merry hearts at Woodcom' feäst. + + Zoo keep it up, an' gi'e it on + To other vo'k when we be gone. + Come otit; vor when the zettčn zun + Do leäve in sheäde our harmless fun, + The moon a-risčn in the east + Do gi'e us light at Woodcom' feäst. + Come, Fanny, come! put on thy white, + 'Tis merry Woodcom' feäst to night: + There's nothčn vor to mwope about,-- + Come out, you leäzy jeäde, come out! + An' thou wult be, to woone at leäst, + The prettiest maīd at Woodcom' feäst. + + + + +THE MILK-MAID O' THE FARM. + + + O Poll's the milk-maīd o' the farm! + An' Poll's so happy out in groun', + Wi' her white paīl below her eärm + As if she wore a goolden crown. + + An' Poll don't zit up half the night, + Nor lie vor half the day a-bed; + An' zoo her eyes be sparklčn bright, + An' zoo her cheäks be bloomčn red. + + In zummer mornčns, when the lark + Do rouse the litty lad an' lass + To work, then she's the vu'st to mark + Her steps along the dewy grass. + + An' in the evenčn, when the zun + Do sheen ageän the western brows + O' hills, where bubblčn brooks do run, + There she do zing bezide her cows. + + An' ev'ry cow of hers do stand, + An' never overzet her paīl; + Nor try to kick her nimble hand, + Nor switch her wi' her heavy taīl. + + Noo leädy, wi' her muff an' vaīl, + Do walk wi' sich a steätely tread + As she do, wi' her milkčn paīl + A-balanc'd on her comely head. + + An' she, at mornčn an' at night, + Do skim the yollow cream, an' mwold + An' wring her cheeses red an' white, + An' zee the butter vetch'd an' roll'd. + + An' in the barken or the ground, + The chaps do always do their best + To milk the vu'st their own cows round, + An' then help her to milk the rest. + + Zoo Poll's the milk-maīd o' the farm! + An' Poll's so happy out in groun', + Wi' her white paīl below her eärm, + As if she wore a goolden crown. + + + + +THE GIRT WOAK TREE THAT'S IN THE DELL. + + + The girt woak tree that's in the dell! + There's noo tree I do love so well; + Vor times an' times when I wer young, + I there've a-climb'd, an' there've a-zwung, + An' pick'd the eäcorns green, a-shed + In wrestlčn storms vrom his broad head. + An' down below's the cloty brook + Where I did vish with line an' hook, + An' beät, in pla˙some dips and zwims, + The foamy stream, wi' white-skinn'd lim's. + An' there my mother nimbly shot + Her knittčn-needles, as she zot + At evenčn down below the wide + Woak's head, wi' father at her zide. + An' I've a-pla˙ed wi' many a bwoy, + That's now a man an' gone awoy; + Zoo I do like noo tree so well + 'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell. + + An' there, in leäter years, I roved + Wi' thik poor maīd I fondly lov'd,-- + The maīd too feäir to die so soon,-- + When evenčn twilight, or the moon, + Cast light enough 'ithin the pleäce + To show the smiles upon her feäce, + Wi' eyes so clear's the glassy pool, + An' lips an' cheäks so soft as wool. + There han' in han', wi' bosoms warm, + Wi' love that burn'd but thought noo harm, + Below the wide-bough'd tree we past + The happy hours that went too vast; + An' though she'll never be my wife, + She's still my leäden star o' life. + She's gone: an' she've a-left to me + Her mem'ry in the girt woak tree; + Zoo I do love noo tree so well + 'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell + + An' oh! mid never ax nor hook + Be brought to spweil his steätely look; + Nor ever roun' his ribby zides + Mid cattle rub ther heäiry hides; + Nor pigs rout up his turf, but keep + His lwonesome sheäde vor harmless sheep; + An' let en grow, an' let en spread, + An' let en live when I be dead. + But oh! if men should come an' vell + The girt woak tree that's in the dell, + An' build his planks 'ithin the zide + O' zome girt ship to plough the tide, + Then, life or death! I'd goo to sea, + A saīlčn wi' the girt woak tree: + An' I upon his planks would stand, + An' die a-fightčn vor the land,-- + The land so dear,--the land so free,-- + The land that bore the girt woak tree; + Vor I do love noo tree so well + 'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell. + + + + +VELLEN O' THE TREE. + + + Aye, the girt elem tree out in little hwome groun' + Wer a-stannčn this mornčn, an' now's a-cut down. + Aye, the girt elem tree, so big roun' an' so high, + Where the mowers did goo to their drink, an' did lie + In the sheäde ov his head, when the zun at his heighth + Had a-drove em vrom mowčn, wi' het an' wi' drîth, + Where the ha˙-meäkers put all their picks an' their reäkes, + An' did squot down to snabble their cheese an' their ceäkes, + An' did vill vrom their flaggons their cups wi' their eäle, + An' did meäke theirzelves merry wi' joke an' wi' teäle. + + Ees, we took up a rwope an' we tied en all round + At the top o'n, wi' woone end a-hangčn to ground, + An' we cut, near the ground, his girt stem a'most drough, + An' we bent the wold head o'n wi' woone tug or two; + An' he sway'd all his limbs, an' he nodded his head, + Till he vell away down like a pillar o' lead: + An' as we did run vrom en, there; clwose at our backs, + Oh! his boughs come to groun' wi' sich whizzes an' cracks; + An' his top wer so lofty that, now he is down, + The stem o'n do reach a-most over the groun'. + Zoo the girt elem tree out in little hwome groun' + Wer a-stannčn this mornčn, an' now's a-cut down. + + + + +BRINGEN WOONE GWAĪN[A] O' ZUNDAYS. + + + Ah! John! how I do love to look + At theäse green hollor, an' the brook + Among the withies that do hide + The stream, a-growčn at the zide; + An' at the road athirt the wide + An' shallow vword, where we young bwoys + Did peärt, when we did goo half-woys, + To bring ye gwaīn o' Zundays. + + Vor after church, when we got hwome, + In evenčn you did always come + To spend a happy hour or two + Wi' us, or we did goo to you; + An' never let the comers goo + Back hwome alwone, but always took + A stroll down wi' em to the brook + To bring em gwaīn o' Zundays. + + How we did scote all down the groun', + A-pushčn woone another down! + Or challengčn o' zides in jumps + Down over bars, an' vuzz, an' humps; + An' peärt at last wi' slaps an' thumps, + An' run back up the hill to zee + Who'd get hwome soonest, you or we. + That brought ye gwaīn o' Zundays. + + O' leäter years, John, you've a-stood + My friend, an' I've a-done you good; + But tidden, John, vor all that you + Be now, that I do like ye zoo, + But what you wer vor years agoo: + Zoo if you'd stir my heart-blood now. + Tell how we used to play, an' how + You brought us gwaīn o' Zundays. + +[Footnote A: "To bring woone gwaīn,"--to bring one going; to bring one +on his way.] + + + + +EVENČN TWILIGHT. + + + Ah! they vew zummers brought us round + The happiest days that we've a-vound, + When in the orcha'd, that did stratch + To westward out avore the patch + Ov high-bough'd wood, an' shelve to catch + The western zun-light, we did meet + Wi' merry tongues an' skippčn veet + At evenčn in the twilight. + + The evenčn aīr did fan, in turn, + The cheäks the midday zun did burn. + An' zet the russlčn leaves at pla˙, + An' meäke the red-stemm'd brembles sway + In bows below the snow-white ma˙; + An' whirlčn roun' the trees, did sheäke + Jeäne's raven curls about her neck, + They evenčns in the twilight. + + An' there the yollow light did rest + Upon the bank towárd the west, + An' twitt'rčn birds did hop in drough + The hedge, an' many a skippčn shoe + Did beät the flowers, wet wi' dew, + As underneäth the tree's wide limb + Our merry sheäpes did jumpy, dim, + They evenčns in the twilight. + + How sweet's the evenčn dusk to rove + Along wi' woone that we do love! + When light enough is in the sky + To sheäde the smile an' light the eye + 'Tis all but heaven to be by; + An' bid, in whispers soft an' light + 'S the ruslčn ov a leaf, "Good night," + At evenčn in the twilight. + + An' happy be the young an' strong, + That can but work the whole day long + So merry as the birds in spring; + An' have noo ho vor any thing + Another day mid teäke or bring; + But meet, when all their work's a-done, + In orcha'd vor their bit o' fun + At evenčn in the twilight. + + + + +EVENČN IN THE VILLAGE. + + + Now the light o' the west is a-turn'd to gloom, + An' the men be at hwome vrom ground; + An' the bells be a-zendčn all down the Coombe + From tower, their mwoansome sound. + An' the wind is still, + An' the house-dogs do bark, + An' the rooks be a-vled to the elems high an' dark, + An' the water do roar at mill. + + An' the flickerčn light drough the window-peäne + Vrom the candle's dull fleäme do shoot, + An' young Jemmy the smith is a-gone down leäne, + A-pla˙čn his shrill-vaīced flute. + An' the miller's man + Do zit down at his ease + On the seat that is under the cluster o' trees. + Wi' his pipe an' his cider can. + + + + +MAY. + + + Come out o' door, 'tis Spring! 'tis Ma˙ + The trees be green, the vields be ga˙; + The weather's warm, the winter blast, + Wi' all his traīn o' clouds, is past; + The zun do rise while vo'k do sleep, + To teäke a higher daily zweep, + Wi' cloudless feäce a-flingčn down + His sparklčn light upon the groun'. + + The air's a-streamčn soft,--come drow + The windor open; let it blow + In drough the house, where vire, an' door + A-shut, kept out the cwold avore. + Come, let the vew dull embers die, + An' come below the open sky; + An' wear your best, vor fear the groun' + In colours ga˙ mid sheäme your gown: + An' goo an' rig wi' me a mile + Or two up over geäte an' stile, + Drough zunny parrocks that do leäd, + Wi' crooked hedges, to the meäd, + Where elems high, in steätely ranks, + Do rise vrom yollow cowslip-banks, + An' birds do twitter vrom the spra˙ + O' bushes deck'd wi' snow-white ma˙; + An' gil'cups, wi' the deäisy bed, + Be under ev'ry step you tread. + + We'll wind up roun' the hill, an' look + All down the thickly-timber'd nook, + Out where the squier's house do show + His grey-wall'd peaks up drough the row + O' sheädy elems, where the rook + Do build her nest; an' where the brook + Do creep along the meäds, an' lie + To catch the brightness o' the sky; + An' cows, in water to theīr knees, + Do stan' a-whiskčn off the vlees. + + Mother o' blossoms, and ov all + That's feäir a-yield vrom Spring till Fall, + The gookoo over white-weäv'd seas + Do come to zing in thy green trees, + An' buttervlees, in giddy flight, + Do gleäm the mwost by thy ga˙ light + Oh! when, at last, my fleshly eyes + Shall shut upon the vields an' skies, + Mid zummer's zunny days be gone, + An' winter's clouds be comčn on: + Nor mid I draw upon the e'th, + O' thy sweet aīr my leätest breath; + Alassen I mid want to sta˙ + Behine' for thee, O flow'ry May! + + + + +BOB THE FIDDLER. + + + Oh! Bob the fiddler is the pride + O' chaps an' maīdens vur an' wide; + They can't keep up a merry tide, + But Bob is in the middle. + If merry Bob do come avore ye, + He'll zing a zong, or tell a story; + But if you'd zee en in his glory, + Jist let en have a fiddle. + + Aye, let en tuck a crowd below + His chin, an' gi'e his vist a bow, + He'll dreve his elbow to an' fro', + An' pla˙ what you do please. + At Maypolčn, or feäst, or feäir, + His eärm wull zet off twenty peäir, + An' meäke em dance the groun' dirt-beäre, + An' hop about lik' vlees. + + Long life to Bob! the very soul + O' me'th at merry feäst an' pole; + Vor when the crowd do leäve his jowl, + They'll all be in the dumps. + Zoo at the dance another year, + At _Shillinston_ or _Hazelbur'_, + Mid Bob be there to meäke em stir, + In merry jigs, their stumps! + + + + +HOPE IN SPRING. + + + In happy times a while agoo, + My lively hope, that's now a-gone + Did stir my heart the whole year drough, + But mwost when green-bough'd spring come on; + When I did rove, wi' litty veet, + Drough deäisy-beds so white's a sheet, + But still avore I us'd to meet + The blushčn cheäks that bloom'd vor me! + + An' afterward, in lightsome youth, + When zummer wer a-comčn on, + An' all the trees wer white wi' blooth, + An' dippčn zwallows skimm'd the pon'; + Sweet hope did vill my heart wi' ja˙, + An' tell me, though thik spring wer ga˙, + There still would come a brighter Ma˙, + Wi' blushčn cheäks to bloom vor me! + + An' when, at last, the time come roun', + An' brought a lofty zun to sheen + Upon my smilčn Fanny, down + Drough n[=e]sh young leaves o' yollow green; + How charmčn wer the het that glow'd, + How charmčn wer the sheäde a-drow'd, + How charmčn wer the win' that blow'd + Upon her cheäks that bloom'd vor me! + + But hardly did they times begin, + Avore I vound em short to sta˙: + An' year by year do now come in, + To peärt me wider vrom my ja˙, + Vor what's to meet, or what's to peärt, + Wi' maīdens kind, or maīdens smart, + When hope's noo longer in the heart, + An' cheäks noo mwore do bloom vor me! + + But there's a worold still to bless + The good, where zickness never rose; + An' there's a year that's winterless, + Where glassy waters never vroze; + An' there, if true but e'thly love + Do seem noo sin to God above, + 'S a smilčn still my harmless dove, + So feäir as when she bloom'd vor me! + + + + +THE WHITE ROAD UP ATHIRT THE HILL. + + + When hot-beam'd zuns do strik right down, + An' burn our zweaty feäzen brown; + An' zunny slopes, a-lyčn nigh, + Be back'd by hills so blue's the sky; + Then, while the bells do sweetly cheem + Upon the champčn high-neck'd team, + How lively, wi' a friend, do seem + The white road up athirt the hill. + + The zwellčn downs, wi' chalky tracks + A-climmčn up their zunny backs, + Do hide green meäds an' zedgy brooks. + An' clumps o' trees wi' glossy rooks, + An' hearty vo'k to laugh an' zing, + An' parish-churches in a string, + Wi' tow'rs o' merry bells to ring, + An' white roads up athirt the hills. + + At feäst, when uncle's vo'k do come + To spend the day wi' us at hwome, + An' we do lay upon the bwoard + The very best we can avvword, + The wolder woones do talk an' smoke, + An' younger woones do pla˙ an' joke, + An' in the evenčn all our vo'k + Do bring em gwaīn athirt the hill. + + An' while the green do zwarm wi' wold + An' young, so thick as sheep in vwold, + The bellows in the blacksmith's shop, + An' miller's moss-green wheel do stop, + An' lwonesome in the wheelwright's shed + 'S a-left the wheelless waggon-bed; + While zwarms o' comčn friends do tread + The white road down athirt the hill. + + An' when the windčn road so white, + A-climmčn up the hills in zight, + Do leäd to pleäzen, east or west, + The vu'st a-known, an' lov'd the best, + How touchčn in the zunsheen's glow, + Or in the sheädes that clouds do drow + Upon the zunburnt downs below, + 'S the white road up athirt the hill. + + What peaceful hollows here the long + White roads do windy round among! + Wi' deäiry cows in woody nooks, + An' haymeäkers among their pooks, + An' housen that the trees do screen + From zun an' zight by boughs o' green! + Young blushčn beauty's hwomes between + The white roads up athirt the hills. + + + + +THE WOODY HOLLOW. + + + If mem'ry, when our hope's a-gone, + Could bring us dreams to cheat us on, + Ov happiness our hearts voun' true + In years we come too quickly drough; + What days should come to me, but you, + That burn'd my youthvul cheäks wi' zuns + O' zummer, in my pla˙some runs + About the woody hollow. + + When evenčn's risčn moon did peep + Down drough the hollow dark an' deep, + Where gigglčn sweethearts meäde their vows + In whispers under waggčn boughs; + When whisslčn bwoys, an' rott'lčn ploughs + Wer still, an' mothers, wi' their thin + Shrill vaīces, call'd their daughters in, + From walkčn in the hollow; + + What souls should come avore my zight, + But they that had your zummer light? + The litsome younger woones that smil'd + Wi' comely feäzen now a-spweil'd; + Or wolder vo'k, so wise an' mild, + That I do miss when I do goo + To zee the pleäce, an' walk down drough + The lwonesome woody hollow? + + When wrongs an' overbearčn words + Do prick my bleedčn heart lik' swords, + Then I do try, vor Christes seäke, + To think o' you, sweet days! an' meäke + My soul as 'twer when you did weäke + My childhood's eyes, an' when, if spite + Or grief did come, did die at night + In sleep 'ithin the hollow. + + + + +JENNY'S RIBBONS. + + + Jean ax'd what ribbon she should wear + 'Ithin her bonnet to the feäir? + She had woone white, a-gi'ed her when + She stood at Meäry's chrissenčn; + She had woone brown, she had woone red, + A keepseäke vrom her brother dead, + That she did like to wear, to goo + To zee his greäve below the yew. + + She had woone green among her stock, + That I'd a-bought to match her frock; + She had woone blue to match her eyes, + The colour o' the zummer skies, + An' thik, though I do like the rest, + Is he that I do like the best, + Because she had en in her heäir + When vu'st I walk'd wi' her at feäir. + + The brown, I zaid, would do to deck + Thy heäir; the white would match thy neck; + The red would meäke thy red cheäk wan + A-thinkčn o' the gi'er gone; + The green would show thee to be true; + But still I'd sooner zee the blue, + Because 'twer he that deck'd thy heäir + When vu'st I walk'd wi' thee at feäir. + + Zoo, when she had en on, I took + Her han' 'ithin my elbow's crook, + An' off we went athirt the weir + An' up the meäd toward the feäir; + The while her mother, at the geäte, + Call'd out an' bid her not sta˙ leäte, + An' she, a-smilčn wi' her bow + O' blue, look'd roun' and nodded, _No_. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +THE 'LOTMENTS. + + +_John and Richard._ + + + JOHN. + + Zoo you be in your groun' then, I do zee, + A-workčn and a-zingčn lik' a bee. + How do it answer? what d'ye think about it? + D'ye think 'tis better wi' it than without it? + A-recknčn rent, an' time, an' zeed to stock it, + D'ye think that you be any thing in pocket? + + RICHARD. + + O', 'tis a goodish help to woone, I'm sure o't. + If I had not a-got it, my poor bwones + Would now ha' eäch'd a-crackčn stwones + Upon the road; I wish I had zome mwore o't. + + JOHN. + + I wish the girt woones had a-got the greäce + To let out land lik' this in ouer pleäce; + But I do fear there'll never be nwone vor us, + An' I can't tell whatever we shall do: + We be a-most starvčn, an' we'd goo + To 'merica, if we'd enough to car us. + + RICHARD. + + Why 'twer the squire, good now! a worthy man, + That vu'st brought into ouer pleäce the plan, + He zaid he'd let a vew odd eäcres + O' land to us poor leäb'rčn men; + An', faīth, he had enough o' teäkers + Vor that, an' twice so much ageän. + Zoo I took zome here, near my hovel, + To exercise my speäde an' shovel; + An' what wi' dungčn, diggčn up, an' zeedčn, + A-thinnčn, cleänčn, howčn up an' weedčn, + I, an' the biggest o' the childern too, + Do always vind some useful jobs to do. + + JOHN. + + Aye, wi' a bit o' ground, if woone got any, + Woone's bwoys can soon get out an' eärn a penny; + An' then, by workčn, they do learn the vaster + The way to do things when they have a meäster; + Vor woone must know a deäl about the land + Bevore woone's fit to lend a useful hand, + In geärden or a-vield upon a farm. + + RICHARD. + + An' then the work do keep em out o' harm; + Vor vo'ks that don't do nothčn wull be vound + Soon dočn woorse than nothčn, I'll be bound. + But as vor me, d'ye zee, with theäse here bit + O' land, why I have ev'ry thing a'mwost: + Vor I can fatten vowels for the spit, + Or zell a good fat goose or two to rwoast; + An' have my beäns or cabbage, greens or grass, + Or bit o' wheat, or, sich my happy feäte is, + That I can keep a little cow, or ass, + An' a vew pigs to eat the little teäties. + + JOHN. + + An' when your pig's a-fatted pretty well + Wi' teäties, or wi' barley an' some bran, + Why you've a-got zome vlitches vor to zell, + Or hang in chimney-corner, if you can. + + RICHARD. + + Aye, that's the thing; an' when the pig do die, + We got a lot ov offal for to fry, + An' netlčns for to bwoil; or put the blood in, + An' meäke a meal or two o' good black-pudden. + + JOHN. + + I'd keep myzelf from parish, I'd be bound, + If I could get a little patch o' ground. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +A BIT O' SLY COORTEN. + + +_John and Fanny._ + + + JOHN. + + Now, Fanny, 'tis too bad, you teazčn maīd! + How leäte you be a' come! Where have ye sta˙'d? + How long you have a-meäde me waīt about! + I thought you werden gwaīn to come ageän: + I had a mind to goo back hwome ageän. + This idden when you promis'd to come out. + + FANNY. + + Now 'tidden any good to meäke a row, + Upon my word, I cooden come till now. + Vor I've a-been kept in all day by mother, + At work about woone little job an' t'other. + If you do want to goo, though, don't ye sta˙ + Vor me a minute longer, I do pra˙. + + JOHN. + + I thought you mid be out wi' Jemmy Bleäke, + + FANNY. + + An' why be out wi' him, vor goodness' seäke? + + JOHN. + + You walk'd o' Zunday evenčn wi'n, d'ye know, + You went vrom church a-hitch'd up in his eärm. + + FANNY. + + Well, if I did, that werden any harm. + Lauk! that _is_ zome'at to teäke notice o'_. + + JOHN. + + He took ye roun' the middle at the stile, + An' kiss'd ye twice 'ithin the ha'f a mile. + + FANNY. + + Ees, at the stile, because I shoulden vall, + He took me hold to help me down, that's all; + An' I can't zee what very mighty harm + He could ha' done a-lendčn me his eärm. + An' as vor kissčn o' me, if he did, + I didden ax en to, nor zay he mid: + An' if he kiss'd me dree times, or a dozen, + What harm wer it? Why idden he my cousin? + An' I can't zee, then, what there is amiss + In cousin Jem's jist gi'čn me a kiss. + + JOHN. + + Well, he shan't kiss ye, then; you shan't be kiss'd + By his girt ugly chops, a lanky houn'! + If I do zee'n, I'll jist wring up my vist + An' knock en down. + I'll squot his girt pug-nose, if I don't miss en; + I'll warn I'll spweil his pretty lips vor kissčn! + + FANNY. + + Well, John, I'm sure I little thought to vind + That you had ever sich a jealous mind. + What then! I s'pose that I must be a dummy, + An' mussen goo about nor wag my tongue + To any soul, if he's a man, an' young; + Or else you'll work yourzelf up mad wi' passion, + An' talk away o' gi'čn vo'k a drashčn, + An' breakčn bwones, an' beäten heads to pummy! + If you've a-got sich jealous ways about ye, + I'm sure I should be better off 'ithout ye. + + JOHN. + + Well, if girt Jemmy have a-won your heart, + We'd better break the coortship off, an' peärt. + + FANNY. + + He won my heart! There, John, don't talk sich stuff; + Don't talk noo mwore, vor you've a-zaid enough. + If I'd a-lik'd another mwore than you, + I'm sure I shoulden come to meet ye zoo; + Vor I've a-twold to father many a storry, + An' took o' mother many a scwoldčn vor ye. + [_weeping._] + But 'twull be over now, vor you shan't zee me + Out wi' ye noo mwore, to pick a quarrel wi' me. + + JOHN. + + Well, Fanny, I woon't zay noo mwore, my dear. + Let's meäke it up. Come, wipe off thik there tear. + Let's goo an' zit o' top o' theäse here stile, + An' rest, an' look about a little while. + + FANNY. + + Now goo away, you crabbed jealous chap! + You shan't kiss me,--you shan't! I'll gi' ye a slap. + + JOHN. + + Then you look smilčn; don't you pout an' toss + Your head so much, an' look so very cross. + + FANNY. + + Now, John! don't squeeze me roun' the middle zoo. + I woon't stop here noo longer, if you do. + Why, John! be quiet, wull ye? Fie upon it! + Now zee how you've a-wrumpl'd up my bonnet! + Mother'ill zee it after I'm at hwome, + An' gi'e a guess directly how it come. + + JOHN. + + Then don't you zay that I be jealous, Fanny. + + FANNY. + + I wull: vor you _be_ jealous, Mister Jahnny. + There's zomebody a-comčn down the groun' + Towards the stile. Who is it? Come, get down + I must run hwome, upon my word then, now; + If I do sta˙, they'll kick up sich a row. + Good night. I can't sta˙ now. + +JOHN. + + Then good night, Fanny! +Come out a-bit to-morrow evenčn, can ye? + + + + +SUMMER. + + + + +EVENČN, AN' MAIDENS OUT AT DOOR. + + + Now the sheädes o' the elems do stratch mwore an' mwore, + Vrom the low-zinkčn zun in the west o' the sky; + An' the maīdens do stand out in clusters avore + The doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by. + + An' their cwombs be a-zet in their bunches o' heäir, + An' their currels do hang roun' their necks lily-white, + An' their cheäks they be rwosy, their shoulders be beäre, + Their looks they be merry, their limbs they be light. + + An' the times have a-been--but they cant be noo mwore-- + When I had my ja˙ under evenčn's dim sky, + When my Fanny did stan' out wi' others avore + Her door, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by. + + An' up there, in the green, is her own honey-zuck, + That her brother traīn'd up roun' her window; an' there + Is the rwose an' the jessamy, where she did pluck + A flow'r vor her bosom or bud vor her heäir. + + An' zoo smile, happy maīdens! vor every feäce, + As the zummers do come, an' the years do roll by, + Will soon sadden, or goo vur away vrom the pleäce, + Or else, lik' my Fanny, will wither an' die. + + But when you be a-lost vrom the parish, zome mwore + Will come on in your pleäzen to bloom an' to die; + An' the zummer will always have maīdens avore + Their doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by. + + Vor daughters ha' mornčn when mothers ha' night, + An' there's beauty alive when the feäirest is dead; + As when woone sparklčn weäve do zink down vrom the light, + Another do come up an' catch it instead. + + Zoo smile on, happy maīdens! but I shall noo mwore + Zee the maīd I do miss under evenčn's dim sky; + An' my heart is a-touch'd to zee you out avore + The doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by. + + + + +THE SHEPHERD O' THE FARM. + + + Oh! I be shepherd o' the farm, + Wi' tinklčn bells an' sheep-dog's bark, + An' wi' my crook a-thirt my eärm, + Here I do rove below the lark. + + An' I do bide all day among + The bleäten sheep, an' pitch their vwold; + An' when the evenčn sheädes be long, + Do zee em all a-penn'd an' twold. + + An' I do zee the friskčn lam's, + Wi' swingčn taīls an' woolly lags, + A-playčn roun' their veedčn dams + An' pullčn o' their milky bags. + + An' I bezide a hawthorn tree, + Do' zit upon the zunny down, + While sheädes o' zummer clouds do vlee + Wi' silent flight along the groun'. + + An' there, among the many cries + O' sheep an' lambs, my dog do pass + A zultry hour, wi' blinkčn eyes, + An' nose a-stratch'd upon the grass; + + But, in a twinklčn, at my word, + He's all awake, an' up, an' gone + Out roun' the sheep lik' any bird, + To do what he's a-zent upon. + + An' I do goo to washčn pool, + A-sousčn over head an' ears, + The shaggy sheep, to cleän their wool + An' meäke em ready vor the sheärs. + + An' when the shearčn time do come, + Then we do work vrom dawn till dark; + Where zome do shear the sheep, and zome + Do mark their zides wi' meästers mark. + + An' when the shearčn's all a-done, + Then we do eat, an' drink, an' zing, + In meäster's kitchen till the tun + Wi' merry sounds do sheäke an' ring. + + Oh! I be shepherd o' the farm, + Wi' tinklčn bells an' sheep dog's bark, + An' wi' my crook a-thirt my eärm, + Here I do rove below the lark. + + + + +VIELDS IN THE LIGHT. + + + Woone's heart mid leäp wi' thoughts o' ja˙ + In comčn manhood light an' ga˙ + When we do teäke the worold on + Vrom our vore-elders dead an' gone; + But days so feäir in hope's bright eyes + Do often come wi' zunless skies: + Woone's fancy can but be out-done, + Where trees do swa˙ an' brooks do run, + By risčn moon or zettčn zun. + + Vor when at evenčn I do look + All down theäse hangčn on the brook, + Wi' weäves a-leäpčn clear an' bright, + Where boughs do swa˙ in yollow light; + Noo hills nor hollows, woods nor streams, + A-voun' by da˙ or zeed in dreams, + Can ever seem so fit to be + Good angel's hwomes, though they do gi'e + But paīn an' tweil to such as we. + + An' when by moonlight darksome sheädes + Do lie in grass wi' dewy bleädes, + An' worold-hushčn night do keep + The proud an' angry vast asleep, + When I can think, as I do rove, + Ov only souls that I do love; + Then who can dream a dream to show, + Or who can think o' moons to drow, + A sweeter light to rove below? + + + + +WHITSUNTIDE AN' CLUB WALKEN. + + + Ees, last Whit-Monday, I an' Meäry + Got up betimes to mind the deäiry; + An' gi'ed the milkčn paīls a scrub, + An' dress'd, an' went to zee the club. + Vor up at public-house, by ten + O'clock the pleäce wer vull o' men, + A-dress'd to goo to church, an' dine, + An' walk about the pleäce in line. + Zoo off they started, two an' two, + Wi' paīnted poles an' knots o' blue, + An' girt silk flags,--I wish my box + 'D a-got em all in ceäpes an' frocks,-- + A-weävčn wide an' flappčn loud + In pla˙some winds above the crowd; + While fifes did squeak an' drums did rumble, + An' deep beäzzoons did grunt an' grumble, + An' all the vo'k in gath'rčn crowds + Kick'd up the doust in smeechy clouds, + That slowly rose an' spread abrode + In streamčn aīr above the road. + An' then at church there wer sich lots + O' hats a-hangčn up wi' knots, + An' poles a-stood so thick as iver, + The rushes stood beside a river. + An' Mr Goodman gi'ed em warnčn + To spend their evenčn lik' their mornčn; + An' not to pra˙ wi' mornčn tongues, + An' then to zwear wi' evenčn lungs: + Nor vu'st sheäke hands, to let the wrist + Lift up at last a bruisčn vist: + Vor clubs were all a-meän'd vor friends, + He twold em, an' vor better ends + Than twitčn vo'k an' pickčn quarrels, + An' tipplčn cups an' emptčn barrels,-- + Vor meäkčn woone man do another + In need the kindness ov a brother. + + An' after church they went to dine + 'Ithin the long-wall'd room behine + The public-house, where you remember, + We had our dance back last December. + An' there they meäde sich stunnčn clatters + Wi' knives an' forks, an' pleätes an' platters; + An' waīters ran, an' beer did pass + Vrom tap to jug, vrom jug to glass: + An' when they took away the dishes, + They drink'd good healths, an' wish'd good wishes, + To all the girt vo'k o' the land, + An' all good things vo'k took in hand; + An' woone cried _hip, hip, hip!_ an' hollow'd, + An' tothers all struck in, an' vollow'd; + An' grabb'd their drink wi' eager clutches, + An' swigg'd it wi' sich hearty glutches, + As vo'k, stark mad wi' pweison stuff, + That thought theirzelves not mad enough. + + An' after that they went all out + In rank ageän, an' walk'd about, + An' gi'ed zome parish vo'k a call; + An', then went down to Narley Hall + An' had zome beer, an' danc'd between + The elem trees upon the green. + An' down along the road they done + All sorts o' mad-cap things vor fun; + An' danc'd, a-pokčn out their poles, + An' pushčn bwoys down into holes: + An' Sammy Stubbs come out o' rank, + An' kiss'd me up ageän the bank, + A saucy chap; I ha'nt vor'gied en + Not yet,--in short, I han't a-zeed en. + Zoo in the dusk ov evenčn, zome + Went back to drink, an' zome went hwome. + + + + +WOODLEY. + + + Sweet Woodley! oh! how fresh an' ga˙ + Thy leänes an' vields be now in Ma˙, + The while the broad-leav'd clotes do zwim + In brooks wi' gil'cups at the brim; + An' yollow cowslip-beds do grow + By thorns in blooth so white as snow; + An' win' do come vrom copse wi' smells + O' grægles wi' their hangčn bells! + + Though time do dreve me on, my mind + Do turn in love to thee behind, + The seäme's a bulrush that's a-shook + By wind a-blowčn up the brook: + The curlčn stream would dreve en down, + But pla˙some aīr do turn en roun', + An' meäke en seem to bend wi' love + To zunny hollows up above. + + Thy tower still do overlook + The woody knaps an' windčn brook, + An' leäne's wi' here an' there a hatch, + An' house wi' elem-sheäded thatch, + An' vields where chaps do vur outdo + The Zunday sky, wi' cwoats o' blue; + An' maīdens' frocks do vur surpass + The whitest deäsies in the grass. + + What peals to-day from thy wold tow'r + Do strike upon the zummer flow'r, + As all the club, wi' dousty lags, + Do walk wi' poles an' flappčn flags, + An' wind, to music, roun' between + A zwarm o' vo'k upon the green! + Though time do dreve me on, my mind + Do turn wi' love to thee behind. + + + + +THE BROOK THAT RAN BY GRAMFER'S. + + + When snow-white clouds wer thin an' vew + Avore the zummer sky o' blue, + An' I'd noo ho but how to vind + Zome pla˙ to entertaīn my mind; + Along the water, as did wind + Wi' zedgy shoal an' hollow crook, + How I did ramble by the brook + That ran all down vrom gramfer's. + + A-holdčn out my line beyond + The clote-leaves, wi' my withy wand, + How I did watch, wi' eager look, + My zwimmčn cork, a-zunk or shook + By minnows nibblčn at my hook, + A-thinkčn I should catch a breäce + O' perch, or at the leäst some deäce, + A-zwimmčn down vrom gramfer's. + + Then ten good deäries wer a-ved + Along that water's windčn bed, + An' in the lewth o' hills an' wood + A half a score farm-housen stood: + But now,--count all o'm how you would, + So many less do hold the land,-- + You'd vind but vive that still do stand, + A-comčn down vrom gramfer's. + + There, in the midst ov all his land, + The squier's ten-tunn'd house did stand, + Where he did meäke the water clim' + A bank, an' sparkle under dim + Bridge arches, villčn to the brim + His pon', an' leäpčn, white as snow, + Vrom rocks a-glitt'rčn in a bow, + An' runnčn down to gramfer's. + + An' now woone wing is all you'd vind + O' thik girt house a-left behind; + An' only woone wold stwonen tun + 'S a-stannčn to the raīn an' zun,-- + An' all's undone that he'd a-done; + The brook ha' now noo call to sta˙ + To vill his pon' or clim' his ba˙, + A-runnčn down to gramfer's. + + When woonce, in heavy raīn, the road + At Grenley bridge wer overflow'd, + Poor Sophy White, the pleäces pride, + A-gwaīn vrom market, went to ride + Her pony droo to tother zide; + But vound the strëam so deep an' strong, + That took her off the road along + The hollow down to gramfer's. + + 'Twer dark, an' she went on too vast + To catch hold any thing she pass'd; + Noo bough hung over to her hand, + An' she could reach noo stwone nor land, + Where woonce her little voot could stand; + Noo ears wer out to hear her cries, + Nor wer she woonce a-zeen by eyes, + Till took up dead at gramfer's. + + + + +SLEEP DID COME WI' THE DEW. + + + O when our zun's a-zinkčn low, + How soft's the light his feäce do drow + Upon the backward road our mind + Do turn an' zee a-left behind; + When we, in childhood's days did vind + Our ja˙ among the gil'cup flow'rs, + All drough the zummer's zunny hours; + An' sleep did come wi' the dew. + + An' afterwards, when we did zweat + A tweilčn in the zummer het, + An' when our daily work wer done + Did meet to have our evenčn fun: + Till up above the zettčn zun + The sky wer blushčn in the west, + An' we laid down in peace to rest, + An' sleep did come wi' the dew. + + Ah! zome do turn--but tidden right-- + The night to day, an' day to night; + But we do zee the vu'st red streak + O' mornčn, when the day do break; + Zoo we don't grow up peäle an' weak, + But we do work wi' health an' strength, + Vrom mornčn drough the whole day's length, + An' sleep do come wi' the dew. + + An' when, at last, our e'thly light + Is jist a-drawčn in to night, + We mid be sure that God above, + If we be true when he do prove + Our stedvast faīth an' thankvul love, + Wull do vor us what mid be best, + An' teäke us into endless rest, + As sleep do come wi' the dew. + + + + +SWEET MUSIC IN THE WIND. + + + When evenčn is a-drawčn in, + I'll steal vrom others' naīsy din; + An' where the whirlčn brook do roll + Below the walnut-tree, I'll stroll + An' think o' thee wi' all my soul, + Dear Jenny; while the sound o' bells + Do vlee along wi' mwoansome zwells, + Sweet music in the wind! + + I'll think how in the rushy leäze + O' zunny evenčns jis' lik' theäse, + In happy times I us'd to zee + Thy comely sheäpe about the tree, + Wi' paīl a-held avore thy knee; + An' lissen'd to thy merry zong + That at a distance come along, + Sweet music in the wind! + + An' when wi' me you walk'd about + O' Zundays, after church wer out. + Wi' hangčn eärm an' modest look; + Or zittčn in some woody nook + We lissen'd to the leaves that shook + Upon the poplars straīght an' tall, + Or rottle o' the watervall, + Sweet music in the wind! + + An' when the pla˙vul aīr do vlee, + O' moonlight nights, vrom tree to tree, + Or whirl upon the sheäkčn grass, + Or rottle at my window glass: + Do seem,--as I do hear it pass,-- + As if thy vaīce did come to tell + Me where thy happy soul do dwell, + Sweet music in the wind! + + + + +UNCLE AN' AUNT. + + + How happy uncle us'd to be + O' zummer time, when aunt an' he + O' Zunday evenčns, eärm in eärm, + Did walk about their tiny farm, + While birds did zing an' gnats did zwarm, + Drough grass a'most above their knees, + An' roun' by hedges an' by trees + Wi' leafy boughs a-swa˙čn. + + His hat wer broad, his cwoat wer brown, + Wi' two long flaps a-hangčn down; + An' vrom his knee went down a blue + Knit stockčn to his buckled shoe; + An' aunt did pull her gown-taīl drough + Her pocket-hole, to keep en neat, + As she mid walk, or teäke a seat + By leafy boughs a-zwa˙čn. + + An' vu'st they'd goo to zee their lots + O' pot-eärbs in the geärden plots; + An' he, i'-may-be, by the hatch, + Would zee aunt's vowls upon a patch + O' zeeds, an' vow if he could catch + Em wi' his gun, they shoudden vlee + Noo mwore into their roostčn tree, + Wi' leafy boughs a-swa˙čn. + + An' then vrom geärden they did pass + Drough orcha'd out to zee the grass, + An' if the apple-blooth, so white, + Mid be at all a-touch'd wi' blight; + An' uncle, happy at the zight, + Did guess what cider there mid be + In all the orcha'd, tree wi' tree, + Wi' tutties all a-swa˙čn. + + An' then they stump'd along vrom there + A-vield, to zee the cows an' meäre; + An' she, when uncle come in zight, + Look'd up, an' prick'd her ears upright, + An' whicker'd out wi' all her might; + An' he, a-chucklčn, went to zee + The cows below the sheädy tree, + Wi' leafy boughs a-swa˙en. + + An' last ov all, they went to know + How vast the grass in meäd did grow + An' then aunt zaid 'twer time to goo + In hwome,--a-holdčn up her shoe, + To show how wet he wer wi' dew. + An' zoo they toddled hwome to rest, + Lik' doves a-vlečn to their nest + In leafy boughs a-swa˙en. + + + + +HAVEN WOONES FORTUNE A-TWOLD. + + + In leäne the gipsies, as we went + A-milkčn, had a-pitch'd their tent, + Between the gravel-pit an' clump + O' trees, upon the little hump: + An' while upon the grassy groun' + Their smokčn vire did crack an' bleäze, + Their shaggy-cwoated hoss did greäze + Among the bushes vurder down. + + An' zoo, when we brought back our paīls, + The woman met us at the raīls, + An' zaid she'd tell us, if we'd show + Our han's, what we should like to know. + Zoo Poll zaid she'd a mind to try + Her skill a bit, if I would vu'st; + Though, to be sure, she didden trust + To gipsies any mwore than I. + + Well; I agreed, an' off all dree + O's went behind an elem tree, + An' after she'd a-zeed 'ithin + My han' the wrinkles o' the skin, + She twold me--an' she must a-know'd + That Dicky met me in the leäne,-- + That I'd a-walk'd, an' should ageän, + Wi' zomebody along thik road. + + An' then she twold me to bewar + O' what the letter _M_ stood vor. + An' as I walk'd, o' _M_onday night, + Drough _M_eäd wi' Dicky overright + The _M_ill, the _M_iller, at the stile, + Did stan' an' watch us teäke our stroll, + An' then, a blabbčn dousty-poll! + Twold _M_other o't. Well wo'th his while! + + An' Poll too wer a-bid bewar + O' what the letter _F_ stood vor; + An' then, because she took, at _F_eäir, + A bosom-pin o' Jimmy Heäre, + Young _F_ranky beät en black an' blue. + 'Tis _F_ vor _F_eäir; an' 'twer about + A _F_earčn _F_rank an' Jimmy foüght, + Zoo I do think she twold us true. + + In short, she twold us all about + What had a-vell, or would vall out; + An' whether we should spend our lives + As maīdens, or as wedded wives; + But when we went to bundle on, + The gipsies' dog were at the raīls + A-lappčn milk vrom ouer paīls,-- + A pretty deäl o' Poll's wer gone. + + + + +JEANE'S WEDDEN DAY IN MORNEN. + + + At last Jeäne come down stairs, a-drest + Wi' weddčn knots upon her breast, + A-blushčn, while a tear did lie + Upon her burnčn cheäk half dry; + An' then her Robert, drawčn nigh + Wi' tothers, took her han' wi' pride, + To meäke her at the church his bride, + Her weddčn day in mornčn. + + Wi' litty voot an' beätčn heart + She stepp'd up in the new light cart, + An' took her bridemaīd up to ride + Along wi' Robert at her zide: + An' uncle's meäre look'd roun' wi' pride + To zee that, if the cart wer vull, + 'Twer Jenny that he had to pull, + Her weddčn day in mornčn. + + An' aunt an' uncle stood stock-still, + An' watch'd em trottčn down the hill; + An' when they turn'd off out o' groun' + Down into leäne, two tears run down + Aunt's feäce; an' uncle, turnčn roun', + Sigh'd woonce, an' stump'd off wi' his stick, + Because did touch en to the quick + To peärt wi' Jeäne thik mornčn. + + "Now Jeäne's agone," Tom mutter'd, "we + Shall mwope lik' owls 'ithin a tree; + Vor she did zet us all agog + Vor fun, avore the burnčn log." + An' as he zot an' talk'd, the dog + Put up his nose athirt his thighs, + But coulden meäke en turn his eyes, + Jeäne's weddčn day in mornčn. + + An' then the naīghbours round us, all + By woones an' twos begun to call, + To meet the young vo'k, when the meäre + Mid bring em back a married peäir: + An' all o'm zaid, to Robert's sheäre, + There had a-vell the feärest feäce, + An' kindest heart in all the pleäce, + Jeäne's weddčn day in mornčn. + + + + +RIVERS DON'T GI'E OUT. + + + The brook I left below the rank + Ov alders that do sheäde his bank, + A-runnčn down to dreve the mill + Below the knap, 's a runnčn still; + The creepčn days an' weeks do vill + Up years, an' meäke wold things o' new, + An' vok' do come, an' live, an' goo, + But rivers don't gi'e out, John. + + The leaves that in the spring do shoot + Zo green, in fall be under voot; + Ma˙ flow'rs do grow vor June to burn, + An' milk-white blooth o' trees do kern, + An' ripen on, an' vall in turn; + The miller's moss-green wheel mid rot, + An' he mid die an' be vorgot, + But rivers don't gi'e out, John. + + A vew short years do bring an' rear + A maīd--as Jeäne wer--young an' feäir, + An' vewer zummer-ribbons, tied + In Zunday knots, do feäde bezide + Her cheäk avore her bloom ha' died: + Her youth won't sta˙,--her rwosy look + 'S a feädčn flow'r, but time's a brook + To run an' not gi'e out, John. + + An' yet, while things do come an' goo, + God's love is steadvast, John, an' true; + If winter vrost do chill the ground, + 'Tis but to bring the zummer round, + All's well a-lost where He's a-vound, + Vor if 'tis right, vor Christes seäke + He'll gi'e us mwore than he do teäke,-- + His goodness don't gi'e out, John. + + + + +MEAKEN UP A MIFF. + + + Vorgi'e me, Jenny, do! an' rise + Thy hangčn head an' teary eyes, + An' speak, vor I've a-took in lies, + An' I've a-done thee wrong; + But I wer twold,--an' thought 'twer true,-- + That Sammy down at Coome an' you + Wer at the feäir, a-walkčn drough + The pleäce the whole day long. + + An' tender thoughts did melt my heart, + An' zwells o' viry pride did dart + Lik' lightnčn drough my blood; a-peärt + Ov your love I should scorn, + An' zoo I vow'd, however sweet + Your looks mid be when we did meet, + I'd trample ye down under veet, + Or let ye goo forlorn. + + But still thy neäme would always be + The sweetest, an' my eyes would zee + Among all maīdens nwone lik' thee + Vor ever any mwore; + Zoo by the walks that we've a-took + By flow'ry hedge an' zedgy brook, + Dear Jenny, dry your eyes, an' look + As you've a-look'd avore. + + Look up, an' let the evenčn light + But sparkle in thy eyes so bright, + As they be open to the light + O' zunzet in the west; + An' let's stroll here vor half an hour, + Where hangčn boughs do meäke a bow'r + Above theäse bank, wi' eltrot flow'r + An' robinhoods a-drest. + + + + +HAY-MEAKEN. + + + 'Tis merry ov a zummer's day, + Where vo'k be out a-meäkčn ha˙; + Where men an' women, in a string, + Do ted or turn the grass, an' zing, + Wi' cheemčn vaīces, merry zongs, + A-tossčn o' their sheenčn prongs + Wi' eärms a-zwangčn left an' right, + In colour'd gowns an' shirtsleeves white; + Or, wider spread, a reäkčn round + The rwosy hedges o' the ground, + Where Sam do zee the speckled sneäke, + An' try to kill en wi' his reäke; + An' Poll do jump about an' squall, + To zee the twistčn slooworm crawl. + + 'Tis merry where a ga˙-tongued lot + Ov ha˙-meäkers be all a-squot, + On lightly-russlčn ha˙, a-spread + Below an elem's lofty head, + To rest their weary limbs an' munch + Their bit o' dinner, or their nunch; + Where teethy reäkes do lie all round + By picks a-stuck up into ground. + An' wi' their vittles in their laps, + An' in their hornen cups their draps + O' cider sweet, or frothy eäle, + Their tongues do run wi' joke an' teäle. + + An' when the zun, so low an' red, + Do sheen above the leafy head + O' zome broad tree, a-rizčn high + Avore the vi'ry western sky, + 'Tis merry where all han's do goo + Athirt the groun', by two an' two, + A-reäkčn, over humps an' hollors, + The russlčn grass up into rollers. + An' woone do row it into line, + An' woone do clwose it up behine; + An' after them the little bwoys + Do stride an' fling their eärms all woys, + Wi' busy picks, an' proud young looks + A-meäkčn up their tiny pooks. + An' zoo 'tis merry out among + The vo'k in ha˙-vield all day long. + + + + +HAY-CARREN. + + + 'Tis merry ov a zummer's day, + When vo'k be out a-haulčn ha˙, + Where boughs, a-spread upon the ground, + Do meäke the staddle big an' round; + An' grass do stand in pook, or lie + In long-back'd weäles or parsels, dry. + There I do vind it stir my heart + To hear the frothčn hosses snort, + A-haulčn on, wi' sleek heäir'd hides, + The red-wheel'd waggon's deep-blue zides. + Aye; let me have woone cup o' drink, + An' hear the linky harness clink, + An' then my blood do run so warm, + An' put sich strangth 'ithin my eärm, + That I do long to toss a pick, + A-pitchčn or a-meäkčn rick. + + The bwoy is at the hosse's head, + An' up upon the waggon bed + The lwoaders, strong o' eärm do stan', + At head, an' back at taīl, a man, + Wi' skill to build the lwoad upright + An' bind the vwolded corners tight; + An' at each zide [=o]'m, sprack an' strong, + A pitcher wi' his long-stem'd prong, + Avore the best two women now + A-call'd to reäky after plough. + + When I do pitchy, 'tis my pride + Vor Jenny Hine to reäke my zide, + An' zee her fling her reäke, an' reach + So vur, an' teäke in sich a streech; + An' I don't shatter ha˙, an' meäke + Mwore work than needs vor Jenny's reäke. + I'd sooner zee the weäles' high rows + Lik' hedges up above my nose, + Than have light work myzelf, an' vind + Poor Jeäne a-beät an' left behind; + Vor she would sooner drop down dead. + Than let the pitchers get a-head. + + 'Tis merry at the rick to zee + How picks do wag, an' ha˙ do vlee. + While woone's unlwoadčn, woone do teäke + The pitches in; an' zome do meäke + The lofty rick upright an' roun', + An' tread en hard, an' reäke en down, + An' tip en, when the zun do zet, + To shoot a sudden vall o' wet. + An' zoo 'tis merry any day + Where vo'k be out a-carrčn hay. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +THE BEST MAN IN THE VIELD. + + +_Sam and Bob._ + + + SAM. + + That's slowish work, Bob. What'st a-been about? + Thy pookčn don't goo on not over sprack. + Why I've a-pook'd my weäle, lo'k zee, clear out, + An' here I be ageän a-turnčn back. + + BOB. + + I'll work wi' thee then, Sammy, any day, + At any work dost like to teäke me at, + Vor any money thou dost like to lay. + Now, Mister Sammy, what dost think o' that? + My weäle is nearly twice so big as thine, + Or else, I warnt, I shouldden be behin'. + + SAM. + + Ah! hang thee, Bob! don't tell sich whoppčn lies. + _My_ weäle's the biggest, if do come to size. + 'Tis jist the seäme whatever bist about; + Why, when dost goo a-teddčn grass, you sloth, + Another hand's a-fwo'c'd to teäke thy zwath, + An' ted a half way back to help thee out; + An' then a-reäkčn rollers, bist so slack, + Dost keep the very bwoys an' women back. + An' if dost think that thou canst challenge I + At any thing,--then, Bob, we'll teäke a pick a-piece, + An' woonce theäse zummer, goo an' try + To meäke a rick a-piece. + A rick o' thine wull look a little funny, + When thou'st a-done en, I'll bet any money. + + BOB. + + You noggerhead! last year thou meäd'st a rick, + An' then we had to trig en wi' a stick. + An' what did John that tipp'd en zay? Why zaid + He stood a-top o'en all the while in dread, + A-thinkčn that avore he should a-done en + He'd tumble over slap wi' him upon en. + + SAM. + + You yoppčn dog! I warnt I meäde my rick + So well's thou meäd'st thy lwoad o' ha˙ last week. + They hadden got a hundred yards to haul en, + An' then they vound 'twer best to have en boun', + Vor if they hadden, 'twould a-tumbl'd down; + An' after that I zeed en all but vallčn, + An' trigg'd en up wi' woone o'm's pitchčn pick, + To zee if I could meäke en ride to rick; + An' when they had the dumpy heap unboun', + He vell to pieces flat upon the groun'. + + BOB. + + Do shut thy lyčn chops! What dosten mind + Thy pitchčn to me out in Gully-plot, + A-meäkčn o' me waīt (wast zoo behind) + A half an hour vor ev'ry pitch I got? + An' how didst groun' thy pick? an' how didst quirk + To get en up on end? Why hadst hard work + To rise a pitch that wer about so big + 'S a goodish crow's nest, or a wold man's wig! + Why bist so weak, dost know, as any roller: + Zome o' the women vo'k will beät thee hollor. + + SAM. + + You snub-nos'd flopperchops! I pitch'd so quick, + That thou dost know thou hadst a hardish job + To teäke in all the pitches off my pick; + An' dissčn zee me groun' en, nother, Bob. + An' thou bist stronger, thou dost think, than I? + Girt bandy-lags! I jist should like to try. + We'll goo, if thou dost like, an' jist zee which + Can heave the mwost, or car the biggest nitch. + + BOB. + + There, Sam, do meäke me zick to hear thy braggčn! + Why bissen strong enough to car a flagon. + + SAM. + + You grinnčn fool! why I'd zet thee a-blowčn, + If thou wast wi' me vor a day a-mowčn. + I'd wear my cwoat, an' thou midst pull thy rags off, + An' then in half a zwath I'd mow thy lags off. + + BOB. + + Thee mow wi' me! Why coossen keep up wi' me: + Why bissčn fit to goo a-vield to skimmy, + Or mow down docks an' thistles! Why I'll bet + A shillčn, Samel, that thou cassen whet. + + SAM. + + Now don't thee zay much mwore than what'st a-zaid, + Or else I'll knock thee down, heels over head. + + BOB. + + Thou knock me down, indeed! Why cassen gi'e + A blow half hard enough to kill a bee. + + SAM. + + Well, thou shalt veel upon thy chops and snout. + + BOB. + + Come on, then, Samel; jist let's have woone bout. + + + + +WHERE WE DID KEEP OUR FLAGON. + + + When we in mornčn had a-drow'd + The grass or russlčn ha˙ abrode, + The lit'some maīdens an' the chaps, + Wi' bits o' nunchčns in their laps, + Did all zit down upon the knaps + Up there, in under hedge, below + The highest elem o' the row, + Where we did keep our flagon. + + There we could zee green vields at hand, + Avore a hunderd on beyand, + An' rows o' trees in hedges roun' + Green meäds, an' zummerleäzes brown, + An' thorns upon the zunny down, + While aīer, vrom the rockčn zedge + In brook, did come along the hedge, + Where we did keep our flagon. + + There laughčn chaps did try in pla˙ + To bury maīdens up in ha˙, + As gigglčn maīdens tried to roll + The chaps down into zome deep hole, + Or sting wi' nettles woone o'm's poll; + While John did hele out each his drap + O' eäle or cider, in his lap + Where he did keep the flagon. + + Woone day there spun a whirlwind by + Where Jenny's clothes wer out to dry; + An' off vled frocks, a'most a-catch'd + By smock-frocks wi' their sleeves outstratch'd, + An' caps a-frill'd an' eäperns patch'd; + An' she a-steärčn in a fright, + Wer glad enough to zee em light + Where we did keep our flagon. + + An' when white clover wer a-sprung + Among the eegrass, green an' young, + An' elder-flowers wer a-spread + Among the rwosen white an' red, + An' honeyzucks wi' hangčn head,-- + O' Zunday evenčns we did zit + To look all roun' the grounds a bit, + Where we'd a-kept our flagon. + + + + +WEEK'S END IN ZUMMER, IN THE WOLD VO'K'S TIME. + + + His aunt an' uncle,--ah! the kind + Wold souls be often in my mind: + A better couple never stood + In shoes, an' vew be voun' so good. + _She_ cheer'd the work-vo'k in theīr tweils + Wi' timely bits an' draps, an' smiles; + An' _he_ paīd all o'm at week's end, + Their money down to goo an' spend. + + In zummer, when week's end come roun' + The ha˙-meäkers did come vrom groun', + An' all zit down, wi' weary bwones, + Within the yard a-peäved wi' stwones, + Along avore the peäles, between + The yard a-steän'd an' open green. + There women zot wi' bare-neck'd chaps, + An' maīdens wi' their sleeves an' flaps + To screen vrom het their eärms an' polls. + An' men wi' beards so black as coals: + Girt stocky Jim, an' lanky John, + An' poor wold Betty dead an' gone; + An' cleän-grown Tom so spry an' strong, + An' Liz the best to pitch a zong, + That now ha' nearly half a score + O' childern zwarmčn at her door; + An' whindlen Ann, that cried wi' fear + To hear the thunder when 'twer near,-- + A zickly maīd, so peäle's the moon, + That voun' her zun goo down at noon; + An' blushčn Jeäne so shy an' meek, + That seldom let us hear her speak, + That wer a-coorted an' undone + By Farmer Woodley's woldest son; + An' after she'd a-been vorzook, + Wer voun' a-drown'd in Longmeäd brook. + + An' zoo, when _he_'d a-been all roun', + An' paīd em all their wages down, + _She_ us'd to bring vor all, by teäle + A cup o' cider or ov eäle, + An' then a tutty meäde o' lots + O' blossoms vrom her flower-nots, + To wear in bands an' button-holes + At church, an' in their evenčn strolls. + The pea that rangled to the oves, + An' columbines an' pinks an' cloves, + Sweet rwosen vrom the prickly tree, + An' jilliflow'rs, an' jessamy; + An' short-liv'd pinies, that do shed + Their leaves upon a eärly bed. + She didden put in honeyzuck: + She'd nwone, she zaīd, that she could pluck + Avore wild honeyzucks, a-vound + In ev'ry hedge ov ev'ry ground. + + Zoo maīd an' woman, bwoy an' man, + Went off, while zunzet aīr did fan + Their merry zunburnt feäzen; zome + Down leäne, an' zome drough parrocks hwome. + + Ah! who can tell, that ha'nt a-vound, + The sweets o' week's-end comčn round! + When Zadurday do bring woone's mind + Sweet thoughts o' Zunday clwose behind; + The day that's all our own to spend + Wi' God an' wi' an e'thly friend. + The worold's girt vo'k, wi' the best + O' worldly goods mid be a-blest; + But Zunday is the poor man's peärt, + To seäve his soul an' cheer his heart. + + + + +THE MEAD A-MOW'D. + + + When sheädes do vall into ev'ry hollow, + An' reach vrom trees half athirt the groun'; + An' banks an' walls be a-lookčn yollow, + That be a-turn'd to the zun gwaīn down; + Drough ha˙ in cock, O, + We all do vlock, O, + Along our road vrom the meäd a-mow'd. + + An' when the last swa˙čn lwoad's a-started + Up hill so slow to the lofty rick, + Then we so weary but merry-hearted, + Do shoulder each [=o]'s a reäke an' pick, + Wi' empty flagon, + Behind the waggon, + To teäke our road vrom the meäd a-mow'd. + + When church is out, an' we all so slowly + About the knap be a-spreadčn wide, + How ga˙ the paths be where we do strolly + Along the leäne an' the hedge's zide; + But nwone's a voun', O, + Up hill or down, O, + So ga˙'s the road drough the meäd a-mow'd. + + An' when the visher do come, a-drowčn + His flutt'ren line over bleädy zedge, + Drough groun's wi' red thissle-heads a-blowčn, + An' watchčn o't by the water's edge; + Then he do love, O, + The best to rove, O, + Along his road drough the meäd a-mow'd. + + + + +THE SKY A-CLEAREN. + + + The drevčn scud that overcast + The zummer sky is all a-past, + An' softer aīr, a-blowčn drough + The quiv'rčn boughs, do sheäke the vew + Last raīn drops off the leaves lik' dew; + An' peäviers, now a-gettčn dry, + Do steam below the zunny sky + That's now so vast a-cleärčn. + + The sheädes that wer a-lost below + The stormy cloud, ageän do show + Their mockčn sheäpes below the light; + An' house-walls be a-lookčn white, + An' vo'k do stir woonce mwore in zight, + An' busy birds upon the wing + Do whiver roun' the boughs an' zing, + To zee the sky a-clearčn. + + Below the hill's an ash; below + The ash, white elder-flow'rs do blow: + Below the elder is a bed + O' robinhoods o' blushčn red; + An' there, wi' nunches all a-spread, + The ha˙-meäkers, wi' each a cup + O' drink, do smile to zee hold up + The raīn, an' sky a-cleärčn. + + 'Mid blushčn maīdens, wi' their zong, + Still draw their white-stemm'd reäkes among + The long-back'd weäles an' new-meäde pooks, + By brown-stemm'd trees an' cloty brooks; + But have noo call to spweil their looks + By work, that God could never meäke + Their weaker han's to underteäke, + Though skies mid be a-cleärčn. + + 'Tis wrong vor women's han's to clips + The zull an' reap-hook, speädes an' whips; + An' men abroad, should leäve, by right, + Woone faīthful heart at hwome to light + Their bit o' vier up at night, + An' hang upon the hedge to dry + Their snow-white linen, when the sky + In winter is a-cleärčn. + + + + +THE EVENČN STAR O' ZUMMER. + + + When vu'st along theäse road vrom mill, + I zeed ye hwome all up the hill, + The poplar tree, so straīght an' tall, + Did rustle by the watervall; + An' in the leäze the cows wer all + A-lyčn down to teäke their rest + An' slowly zunk towárd the west + The evenčn star o' zummer. + + In parrock there the ha˙ did lie + In weäle below the elems, dry; + An' up in hwome-groun' Jim, that know'd + We all should come along thik road, + D a-tied the grass in knots that drow'd + Poor Poll, a-watchčn in the West + Woone brighter star than all the rest,-- + The evenčn star o' zummer. + + The stars that still do zet an' rise, + Did sheen in our forefather's eyes; + They glitter'd to the vu'st men's zight, + The last will have em in their night; + But who can vind em half so bright + As I thought thik peäle star above + My smilčn Jeäne, my zweet vu'st love, + The evenčn star o' zummer. + + How sweet's the mornčn fresh an' new, + Wi' sparklčn brooks an' glitt'rčn dew; + How sweet's the noon wi' sheädes a-drow'd + Upon the groun' but leätely mow'd, + An' bloomčn flowers all abrode; + But sweeter still, as I do clim', + Theäse woody hill in evenčn dim + 'S the evenčn star o' zummer. + + + + +THE CLOTE. + +_(Water-lily.)_ + + + O zummer clote! when the brook's a-glidčn + So slow an' smooth down his zedgy bed, + Upon thy broad leaves so seäfe a-ridčn + The water's top wi' thy yollow head, + By alder's heads, O, + An' bulrush beds, O. + Thou then dost float, goolden zummer clote! + + The grey-bough'd withy's a-leänčn lowly + Above the water thy leaves do hide; + The bendčn bulrush, a-swa˙čn slowly, + Do skirt in zummer thy river's zide; + An' perch in shoals, O, + Do vill the holes, O, + Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote! + + Oh! when thy brook-drinkčn flow'r's a-blowčn, + The burnčn zummer's a-zettčn in; + The time o' greenness, the time o' mowčn, + When in the ha˙-vield, wi' zunburnt skin, + The vo'k do drink, O, + Upon the brink, O, + Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote! + + Wi' eärms a-spreadčn, an' cheäks a-blowčn, + How proud wer I when I vu'st could zwim + Athirt the pleäce where thou bist a-growčn, + Wi' thy long more vrom the bottom dim; + While cows, knee-high, O, + In brook, wer nigh, O, + Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote! + + Ov all the brooks drough the meäds a-windčn, + Ov all the meäds by a river's brim, + There's nwone so feäir o' my own heart's vindčn, + As where the maīdens do zee thee swim, + An' stan' to teäke, O, + Wi' long-stemm'd reäke, O, + Thy flow'r afloat, goolden zummer clote! + + + + +I GOT TWO VIELDS. + + + I got two vields, an' I don't ceäre + What squire mid have a bigger sheäre. + My little zummer-leäze do stratch + All down the hangčn, to a patch + O' meäd between a hedge an' rank + Ov elems, an' a river bank. + Where yollow clotes, in spreadčn beds + O' floatčn leaves, do lift their heads + By bendčn bulrushes an' zedge + A-swa˙čn at the water's edge, + Below the withy that do spread + Athirt the brook his grey-leav'd head. + An' eltrot flowers, milky white, + Do catch the slantčn evenčn light; + An' in the meäple boughs, along + The hedge, do ring the blackbird's zong; + Or in the day, a-vlečn drough + The leafy trees, the whoa'se gookoo + Do zing to mowers that do zet + Their zives on end, an' stan' to whet. + From my wold house among the trees + A leäne do goo along the leäze + O' yollow gravel, down between + Two mossy banks vor ever green. + An' trees, a-hangčn overhead, + Do hide a trinklčn gully-bed, + A-cover'd by a bridge vor hoss + Or man a-voot to come across. + Zoo wi' my hwomestead, I don't ceäre + What squire mid have a bigger sheäre! + + + + +POLLY BE-EN UPZIDES WI' TOM. + + + Ah! yesterday, d'ye know, I voun' + Tom Dumpy's cwoat an' smock-frock, down + Below the pollard out in groun'; + An' zoo I slyly stole + An' took the smock-frock up, an' tack'd + The sleeves an' collar up, an' pack'd + Zome nice sharp stwones, all fresh a-crack'd + 'Ithin each pocket-hole. + + An' in the evenčn, when he shut + Off work, an' come an' donn'd his cwoat, + Their edges gi'ed en sich a cut, + How we did stan' an' laugh! + An' when the smock-frock I'd a-zow'd + Kept back his head an' hands, he drow'd + Hizzelf about, an' teäv'd, an' blow'd, + Lik' any up-tied calf. + + Then in a veag away he flung + His frock, an' after me he sprung, + An' mutter'd out sich dreats, an' wrung + His vist up sich a size! + But I, a-runnčn, turn'd an' drow'd + Some doust, a-pick'd up vrom the road, + Back at en wi' the wind, that blow'd + It right into his eyes. + + An' he did blink, an' vow he'd catch + Me zomehow yet, an' be my match. + But I wer nearly down to hatch + Avore he got vur on; + An' up in chammer, nearly dead + Wi' runnčn, lik' a cat I vled, + An' out o' window put my head + To zee if he wer gone. + + An' there he wer, a-prowlčn roun' + Upon the green; an' I look'd down + An' told en that I hoped he voun' + He mussen think to peck + Upon a body zoo, nor whip + The meäre to drow me off, nor tip + Me out o' cart ageän, nor slip + Cut hoss-heäir down my neck. + + + + +BE'MI'STER. + + + Sweet Be'mi'ster, that bist a-bound + By green an' woody hills all round, + Wi' hedges, reachčn up between + A thousan' vields o' zummer green, + Where elems' lofty heads do drow + Their sheädes vor ha˙-meakers below, + An' wild hedge-flow'rs do charm the souls + O' maīdens in their evenčn strolls. + + When I o' Zunday nights wi' Jeäne + Do saunter drough a vield or leäne, + Where elder-blossoms be a-spread + Above the eltrot's milk-white head, + An' flow'rs o' blackberries do blow + Upon the brembles, white as snow, + To be outdone avore my zight + By Jeän's ga˙ frock o' dazzlčn white; + + Oh! then there's nothčn that's 'ithout + Thy hills that I do ho about,-- + Noo bigger pleäce, noo ga˙er town, + Beyond thy sweet bells' dyčn soun', + As they do ring, or strike the hour, + At evenčn vrom thy wold red tow'r. + No: shelter still my head, an' keep + My bwones when I do vall asleep. + + + + +THATCHEN O' THE RICK. + + + As I wer out in meäd last week, + A-thatchčn o' my little rick, + There green young ee-grass, ankle-high, + Did sheen below the cloudless sky; + An' over hedge in tother groun', + Among the bennets dry an' brown, + My dun wold meäre, wi' neck a-freed + Vrom Zummer work, did snort an' veed; + An' in the sheäde o' leafy boughs, + My vew wold ragged-cwoated cows + Did rub their zides upon the raīls, + Or switch em wi' their heäiry taīls. + + An' as the mornčn zun rose high + Above my mossy roof clwose by, + The blue smoke curreled up between + The lofty trees o' feädčn green: + A zight that's touchčn when do show + A busy wife is down below, + A-workčn hard to cheer woone's tweil + Wi' her best feäre, an' better smile. + Mid women still in wedlock's yoke + Zend up, wi' love, their own blue smoke, + An' husbands vind their bwoards a-spread + By faīthvul hands when I be dead, + An' noo good men in ouer land + Think lightly o' the weddčn band. + True happiness do bide alwone + Wi' them that ha' their own he'th-stwone + To gather wi' their childern roun', + A-smilčn at the worold's frown. + + My bwoys, that brought me thatch an' spars, + Wer down a-taītčn on the bars, + Or zot a-cuttčn wi' a knife, + Dry eltrot-roots to meäke a fife; + Or drevčn woone another round + The rick upon the grassy ground. + An', as the aīer vrom the west + Did fan my burnčn feäce an' breast, + An' hoppčn birds, wi' twitt'rčn beaks, + Did show their sheenčn spots an' streaks, + Then, wi' my heart a-vill'd wi' love + An' thankvulness to God above, + I didden think ov anything + That I begrudg'd o' lord or king; + Vor I ha' round me, vur or near, + The mwost to love an' nwone to fear, + An' zoo can walk in any pleäce, + An' look the best man in the feäce. + What good do come to eächčn heads, + O' ličn down in silken beds? + Or what's a coach, if woone do pine + To zee woone's naīghbour's twice so fine? + Contentment is a constant feäst, + He's richest that do want the leäst. + + + + +BEES A-ZWARMEN. + + + Avore we went a-milkčn, vive + Or six o's here wer all alive + A-teäkčn bees that zwarm'd vrom hive; + An' we'd sich work to catch + The hummčn rogues, they led us sich + A dance all over hedge an' ditch; + An' then at last where should they pitch, + But up in uncle's thatch? + + Dick rung a sheep-bell in his han'; + Liz beät a cannister, an' Nan + Did bang the little fryčn-pan + Wi' thick an' thumpčn blows; + An' Tom went on, a-carrčn roun' + A bee-pot up upon his crown, + Wi' all his edge a-reachčn down + Avore his eyes an' nose. + + An' woone girt bee, wi' spitevul hum, + Stung Dicky's lip, an' meäde it come + All up amost so big's a plum; + An' zome, a-vlečn on, + Got all roun' Liz, an' meäde her hop + An' scream, a-twirlčn lik' a top, + An' spring away right backward, flop + Down into barken pon': + + An' Nan' gi'ed Tom a roguish twitch + Upon a bank, an' meäde en pitch + Right down, head-voremost, into ditch,-- + Tom coulden zee a wink. + An' when the zwarm wer seäfe an' sound + In mother's bit o' bee-pot ground, + She meäde us up a treat all round + O' sillibub to drink. + + + + +READEN OV A HEAD-STWONE. + + + As I wer readčn ov a stwone + In Grenley church-yard all alwone, + A little maīd ran up, wi' pride + To zee me there, an' push'd a-zide + A bunch o' bennets that did hide + A verse her father, as she zaīd, + Put up above her mother's head, + To tell how much he loved her: + + The verse wer short, but very good, + I stood an' larn'd en where I stood:-- + "Mid God, dear Meäry, gi'e me greäce + To vind, lik' thee, a better pleäce, + Where I woonce mwore mid zee thy feäce; + An' bring thy childern up to know + His word, that they mid come an' show + Thy soul how much I lov'd thee." + + "Where's father, then," I zaid, "my chile?" + "Dead too," she answer'd wi' a smile; + "An' I an' brother Jim do bide + At Betty White's, o' tother zide + O' road." "Mid He, my chile," I cried, + "That's father to the fatherless, + Become thy father now, an' bless, + An' keep, an' leäd, an' love thee." + + Though she've a-lost, I thought, so much, + Still He don't let the thoughts o't touch + Her litsome heart by day or night; + An' zoo, if we could teäke it right, + Do show He'll meäke his burdens light + To weaker souls, an' that his smile + Is sweet upon a harmless chile, + When they be dead that lov'd it. + + + + +ZUMMER EVENČN DANCE. + + + Come out to the parrock, come out to the tree, + The maīdens an' chaps be a-waītčn vor thee; + There's Jim wi' his fiddle to pla˙ us some reels, + Come out along wi' us, an' fling up thy heels. + + Come, all the long grass is a-mow'd an' a-carr'd, + An' the turf is so smooth as a bwoard an' so hard; + There's a bank to zit down, when y'ave danced a reel drough, + An' a tree over head vor to keep off the dew. + + There be rwoses an' honeyzucks hangčn among + The bushes, to put in thy weäst; an' the zong + O' the nightingeäle's heärd in the hedges all roun'; + An' I'll get thee a glow-worm to stick in thy gown. + + There's Meäry so modest, an' Jenny so smart, + An' Mag that do love a good rompse to her heart; + There's Joe at the mill that do zing funny zongs, + An' short-lagged Dick, too, a-waggčn his prongs. + + Zoo come to the parrock, come out to the tree, + The maīdens an' chaps be a-waītčn vor thee; + There's Jim wi' his fiddle to pla˙ us some reels,-- + Come out along wi' us, an' fling up thy heels. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +THE VEAIRIES. + + +_Simon an' Samel._ + + + SIMON. + + There's what the vo'k do call a veäiry ring + Out there, lo'k zee. Why, 'tis an oddish thing. + + SAMEL. + + Ah! zoo do seem. I wunder how do come! + What is it that do meäke it, I do wonder? + + SIMON. + + Be hang'd if I can tell, I'm sure! But zome + Do zay do come by lightnčn when do thunder; + An' zome do say sich rings as thík ring there is, + Do grow in dancčn-tracks o' little veäiries, + That in the nights o' zummer or o' spring + Do come by moonlight, when noo other veet + Do tread the dewy grass, but their's, an' meet + An' dance away together in a ring. + + SAMEL. + + An' who d'ye think do work the fiddlestick? + A little veäiry too, or else wold Nick! + + SIMON. + + Why, they do zay, that at the veäiries' ball, + There's nar a fiddle that's a-heär'd at all; + But they do pla˙ upon a little pipe + A-meäde o' kexes or o' straws, dead ripe, + A-stuck in row (zome short an' longer zome) + Wi' slime o' snaīls, or bits o' plum-tree gum, + An' meäke sich music that to hear it sound, + You'd stick so still's a pollard to the ground. + + SAMEL. + + What do em dance? 'Tis plaīn by theäse green wheels, + They don't frisk in an' out in dree-hand reels; + Vor else, instead o' theäse here girt round O, + The'd cut us out a figure aīght (8), d'ye know. + + SIMON. + + Oh! they ha' jigs to fit their little veet. + They woulden dance, you know, at their fine ball, + The dree an' vow'r han' reels that we do sprawl + An' kick about in, when we men do meet. + + SAMEL. + + An' zoo have zome vo'k, in their midnight rambles, + A-catch'd the veäiries, then, in theäsem gambols. + + SIMON. + + Why, yes; but they be off lik' any shot, + So soon's a man's a-comčn near the spot + + SAMEL. + + But in the day-time where do veäiries hide? + Where be their hwomes, then? where do veäiries bide? + + SIMON. + + Oh! they do get awa˙ down under ground, + In hollow pleäzen where they can't be vound. + But still my gramfer, many years agoo, + (He liv'd at Grenley-farm, an milk'd a deäiry), + If what the wolder vo'k do tell is true, + Woone mornčn eärly vound a veäiry. + + SAMEL. + + An' did he stop, then, wi' the good wold bwoy? + Or did he soon contrive to slip awoy? + + SIMON. + + Why, when the vo'k were all asleep, a-bed, + The veäiries us'd to come, as 'tis a-zaid, + Avore the vire wer cwold, an' dance an hour + Or two at dead o' night upon the vloor; + Var they, by only utterčn a word + Or charm, can come down chimney lik' a bird; + Or draw their bodies out so long an' narrow, + That they can vlee drough keyholes lik' an arrow. + An' zoo woone midnight, when the moon did drow + His light drough window, roun' the vloor below, + An' crickets roun' the bricken he'th did zing, + They come an' danced about the hall in ring; + An' tapp'd, drough little holes noo eyes could spy, + A kag o' poor aunt's meäd a-stannčn by. + An' woone o'm drink'd so much, he coulden mind + The word he wer to zay to meäke en small; + He got a-dather'd zoo, that after all + Out tothers went an' left en back behind. + An' after he'd a-beät about his head, + Ageän the keyhole till he wer half dead, + He laid down all along upon the vloor + Till gramfer, comen down, unlocked the door: + An' then he zeed en ('twer enough to frighten čn) + Bolt out o' door, an' down the road lik' lightenčn. + + + + +FALL. + + + + +CORN A-TURNEN YOLLOW. + + + The windless copse ha' sheädy boughs, + Wi' blackbirds' evenčn whistles; + The hills ha' sheep upon their brows, + The zummerleäze ha' thistles: + The meäds be ga˙ in grassy Ma˙, + But, oh! vrom hill to hollow, + Let me look down upon a groun' + O' corn a-turnčn yollow. + + An' pease do grow in tangled beds, + An' beäns be sweet to snuff, O; + The teäper woats do bend their heads, + The barley's beard is rough, O. + The turnip green is fresh between + The corn in hill or hollow, + But I'd look down upon a groun' + O' wheat a-turnčn yollow. + + 'Tis merry when the brawny men + Do come to reap it down, O, + Where glossy red the poppy head + 'S among the stalks so brown, O. + 'Tis merry while the wheat's in hile, + Or when, by hill or hollow, + The leäzers thick do stoop to pick + The ears so ripe an' yollow. + + + + +A-HAULEN O' THE CORN. + + + Ah! yesterday, you know, we carr'd + The piece o' corn in Zidelčn Plot, + An' work'd about it pretty hard, + An' vound the weather pretty hot. + 'Twer all a-tied an' zet upright + In tidy hile o' Monday night; + Zoo yesterday in afternoon + We zet, in eärnest, ev'ry woone + A-haulčn o' the corn. + + The hosses, wi' the het an' lwoad, + Did froth, an' zwang vrom zide to zide, + A-gwaīn along the dousty road, + An' seem'd as if they would a-died. + An' wi' my collar all undone, + An' neck a-burnčn wi' the zun, + I got, wi' work, an' doust, an' het, + So dry at last, I coulden spet, + A-haulčn o' the corn. + + At uncle's orcha'd, gwaīn along, + I begged some apples, vor to quench + My drith, o' Poll that wer among + The trees: but she, a saucy wench, + Toss'd over hedge some crabs vor fun. + I squaīl'd her, though, an' meäde her run; + An' zoo she gie'd me, vor a treat, + A lot o' stubberds vor to eat. + A-haulčn o' the corn. + + An' up at rick, Jeäne took the flagon, + An' gi'ed us out zome eäle; an' then + I carr'd her out upon the waggon, + Wi' bread an' cheese to gi'e the men. + An' there, vor fun, we dress'd her head + Wi' noddčn poppies bright an' red, + As we wer catchčn vrom our laps, + Below a woak, our bits an' draps, + A-haulčn o' the corn. + + + + +HARVEST HWOME. + +_The vu'st peärt. The Supper._ + + + Since we wer striplčns naīghbour John, + The good wold merry times be gone: + But we do like to think upon + What we've a-zeed an' done. + When I wer up a hardish lad, + At harvest hwome the work-vo'k had + Sich suppers, they wer jumpčn mad + Wi' feästčn an' wi' fun. + + At uncle's, I do mind, woone year, + I zeed a vill o' hearty cheer; + Fat beef an' puddčn, eäle an' beer, + Vor ev'ry workman's crop + An' after they'd a-gie'd God thanks, + They all zot down, in two long ranks, + Along a teäble-bwoard o' planks, + Wi' uncle at the top. + + An' there, in platters, big and brown, + Wer red fat beäcon, an' a roun' + O' beef wi' gravy that would drown + A little rwoastčn pig; + Wi' beäns an' teäties vull a zack, + An' cabbage that would meäke a stack, + An' puddčns brown, a-speckled black + Wi' figs, so big's my wig. + + An' uncle, wi' his elbows out, + Did carve, an' meäke the gravy spout; + An' aunt did gi'e the mugs about + A-frothčn to the brim. + Pleätes werden then ov e'then ware, + They ate off pewter, that would bear + A knock; or wooden trenchers, square, + Wi' zalt-holes at the rim. + + An' zoo they munch'd their hearty cheer, + An' dipp'd their beards in frothy-beer, + An' laugh'd, an' jok'd--they couldden hear + What woone another zaid. + An' all o'm drink'd, wi' woone accword, + The wold vo'k's health: an' beät the bwoard, + An' swung their eärms about, an' roar'd, + Enough to crack woone's head. + + + + +HARVEST HWOME. + +_Second Peärt. What they did after Supper._ + + + Zoo after supper wer a-done, + They clear'd the teäbles, an' begun + To have a little bit o' fun, + As long as they mid stop. + The wold woones took their pipes to smoke, + An' tell their teäles, an' laugh an' joke, + A-lookčn at the younger vo'k, + That got up vor a hop. + + Woone screäp'd away, wi' merry grin, + A fiddle stuck below his chin; + An' woone o'm took the rollčn pin, + An' beät the fryčn pan. + An' tothers, dancčn to the soun', + Went in an' out, an' droo an' roun', + An' kick'd, an' beät the tučn down, + A-laughčn, maīd an' man. + + An' then a maīd, all up tip-tooe, + Vell down; an' woone o'm wi' his shoe + Slit down her pocket-hole in two, + Vrom top a-most to bottom. + An' when they had a-danc'd enough, + They got a-pla˙čn blindman's buff, + An' sard the maīdens pretty rough, + When woonce they had a-got em. + + An' zome did drink, an' laugh, an' roar, + An' lots o' teäles they had in store, + O' things that happen'd years avore + To them, or vo'k they know'd. + An' zome did joke, an' zome did zing, + An' meäke the girt wold kitchen ring; + Till uncle's cock, wi' flappčn wing, + Stratch'd out his neck an' crow'd. + + + + +A ZONG OV HARVEST HWOME. + + + The ground is clear. There's nar a ear + O' stannčn corn a-left out now, + Vor win' to blow or raīn to drow; + 'Tis all up seäfe in barn or mow. + Here's health to them that plough'd an' zow'd; + Here's health to them that reap'd an' mow'd, + An' them that had to pitch an' lwoad, + Or tip the rick at Harvest Hwome. + _The happy zight,--the merry night,_ + _The men's delight,--the Harvest Hwome._ + + An' mid noo harm o' vire or storm + Beval the farmer or his corn; + An' ev'ry zack o' zeed gi'e back + A hunderd-vwold so much in barn. + An' mid his Meäker bless his store, + His wife an' all that she've a-bore, + An' keep all evil out o' door, + Vrom Harvest Hwome to Harvest Hwome. + _The happy zight,--the merry night,_ + _The men's delight,--the Harvest Hwome._ + + Mid nothčn ill betide the mill, + As day by day the miller's wheel + Do dreve his clacks, an' heist his zacks, + An' vill his bins wi' show'rčn meal: + Mid's water never overflow + His dousty mill, nor zink too low, + Vrom now till wheat ageän do grow, + An' we've another Harvest Hwome. + _The happy zight,--the merry night,_ + _The men's delight,--the Harvest Hwome._ + + Drough cisterns wet an' malt-kil's het, + Mid barley pa˙ the malter's paīns; + An' mid noo hurt bevall the wort, + A-bweilčn vrom the brewer's graīns. + Mid all his beer keep out o' harm + Vrom bu'sted hoop or thunder storm, + That we mid have a mug to warm + Our merry hearts nex' Harvest Hwome. + _The happy zight,--the merry night,_ + _The men's delight,--the Harvest Hwome._ + + Mid luck an' ja˙ the beäker pa˙, + As he do hear his vier roar, + Or nimbly catch his hot white batch, + A-reekčn vrom the oven door. + An' mid it never be too high + Vor our vew zixpences to buy, + When we do hear our childern cry + Vor bread, avore nex' Harvest Hwome. + _The happy zight,--the merry night,_ + _The men's delight,--the Harvest Hwome._ + + Wi' ja˙ o' heart mid shooters start + The whirrčn pa'tridges in vlocks; + While shots do vlee drough bush an' tree, + An' dogs do stan' so still as stocks. + An' let em ramble round the farms + Wi' guns 'ithin their bended eärms, + In goolden zunsheen free o' storms, + Rejaīcčn vor the Harvest Hwome. + _The happy zight,--the merry night,_ + _The men's delight,--the Harvest Hwome._ + + + + +POLL'S JACK-DAW. + + + Ah! Jimmy vow'd he'd have the law + Ov ouer cousin Poll's Jack-daw, + That had by day his withy jaīl + A-hangčn up upon a naīl, + Ageän the elem tree, avore + The house, jist over-right the door, + An' twitted vo'k a-passčn by + A-most so plaīn as you or I; + Vor hardly any day did pass + 'Ithout Tom's teachčn o'm zome sa'ce; + Till by-an'-by he call'd em all + 'Soft-polls' an' 'gawkeys,' girt an' small. + + An' zoo, as Jim went down along + The leäne a-whisslčn ov a zong, + The saucy Daw cried out by rote + "Girt Soft-poll!" lik' to split his droat. + Jim stopp'd an' grabbled up a clot, + An' zent en at en lik' a shot; + An' down went Daw an' cage avore + The clot, up thump ageän the door. + Zoo out run Poll an' Tom, to zee + What all the meänčn o't mid be; + "Now who did that?" zaid Poll. "Who whurr'd + Theäse clot?" "Girt Soft-poll!" cried the bird. + + An' when Tom catch'd a glimpse o' Jim, + A-lookčn all so red an' slim, + An' slinkčn on, he vled, red hot, + Down leäne to catch en, lik' a shot; + But Jim, that thought he'd better trust + To lags than vistes, tried em vu'st. + An' Poll, that zeed Tom woulden catch + En, stood a-smilčn at the hatch. + An' zoo he vollow'd en for two + Or dree stwones' drows, an' let en goo. + + + + +THE IVY. + + + Upon theäse knap I'd sooner be + The ivy that do climb the tree, + Than bloom the ga˙est rwose a-tied + An' trimm'd upon the house's zide. + The rwose mid be the maīdens' pride, + But still the ivy's wild an' free; + An' what is all that life can gi'e, + 'Ithout a free light heart, John? + + The creepčn sheäde mid steal too soon + Upon the rwose in afternoon; + But here the zun do drow his het + Vrom when do rise till when do zet, + To dry the leaves the raīn do wet. + An' evenčn aīr do bring along + The merry deäiry-maīden's zong, + The zong of free light hearts, John. + + Oh! why do vo'k so often chaīn + Their pinčn minds vor love o' gaīn, + 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 nothčn 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 evenčn the zun's a-zinkčn, + A drowčn sheädes vrom the yollow west, + An' mother, weary, 's a-zot a thinkčn, + 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-leävčn father in-doors, a-leinčn' + In his girt chair in his easy shoes, + Or in the settle so high behine en, + While down bezide en the dog do snooze, + Our tongues do run, O, + Enough to stun, O, + Your head wi' glee by the welshnut tree. + + There we do pla˙ 'thread the woman's needle.' + An' slap the maīdens a-dartčn drough: + Or try who'll ax em the hardest riddle, + Or soonest tell woone a-put us, true; + Or zit an' ring, O, + The bells, ding, ding, O, + Upon our knee by the welshnut tree. + + An' zome do goo out, an' hide in orcha't, + An' tothers, slily a-stealčn by, + Where there's a dark cunnčn pleäce, do sarch it, + Till they do zee em an' cry, "I spy," + An' thik a-vound, O, + Do gi'e a bound, O, + To get off free to the welshnut tree. + + Poll went woone night, that we midden vind her, + Inzide a woak wi' a hollow moot, + An' drough a hole near the groun' behind her, + I pok'd a stick in, an' catch'd her voot; + An' out she scream'd, O, + An' jump'd, an' seem'd, O, + A-mķst to vlee to the welshnut tree. + + An' when, at last, at the drashel, mother + Do call us, smilčn, in-door to rest, + Then we do cluster by woone another, + To zee hwome them we do love the best: + An' then do sound, O, + "Good night," all round, O, + To end our glee by the welshnut tree. + + + + +JENNY OUT VROM HWOME. + + + O wild-reävčn west winds; as you do roar on, + The elems do rock an' the poplars do ply, + An' weäve do dreve weäve in the dark-water'd pon',-- + Oh! where do ye rise vrom, an' where do ye die? + + O wild-reävčn winds I do wish I could vlee + Wi' you, lik' a bird o' the clouds, up above + The ridge o' the hill an' the top o' the tree, + To where I do long vor, an' vo'k I do love. + + Or else that in under theäse rock I could hear, + In the soft-zwellčn sounds you do leäve in your road, + Zome words you mid bring me, vrom tongues that be dear, + Vrom friends that do love me, all scatter'd abrode. + + O wild-reävčn winds! if you ever do roar + By the house an' the elems vrom where I'm a-come, + Breathe up at the window, or call at the door, + An' tell you've a-voun' me a-thinkčn o' hwome. + + + + +GRENLEY WATER. + + + The sheädeless darkness o' the night + Can never blind my mem'ry's zight; + An' in the storm, my fancy's eyes + Can look upon their own blue skies. + The laggčn moon mid faīl to rise, + But when the daylight's blue an' green + Be gone, my fancy's zun do sheen + At hwome at Grenley Water. + + As when the work-vo'k us'd to ride + In waggon, by the hedge's zide, + Drough evenčn sheädes that trees cast down + Vrom lofty stems athirt the groun'; + An' in at house the mug went roun', + While ev'ry merry man praīs'd up + The pretty maīd that vill'd his cup, + The maīd o' Grenley Water. + + There I do seem ageän to ride + The hosses to the water-zide, + An' zee the visher fling his hook + Below the withies by the brook; + Or Fanny, wi' her blushčn look, + Car on her paīl, or come to dip + Wi' ceäreful step, her pitcher's lip + Down into Grenley Water. + + If I'd a farm wi' vower ploughs, + An' vor my deäiry fifty cows; + If Grenley Water winded down + Drough two good miles o' my own groun'; + If half ov Ashknowle Hill wer brown + Wi' my own corn,--noo growčn pride + Should ever meäke me cast azide + The maīd o' Grenley Water. + + + + +THE VEAIRY VEET THAT I DO MEET. + + + When dewy fall's red leaves do vlee + Along the grass below the tree, + Or lie in yollow beds a-shook + Upon the shallow-water'd brook, + Or drove 'ithin a sheädy nook; + Then softly, in the evenčn, down + The knap do steal along the groun' + The veäiry veet that I do meet + Below the row o' beech trees. + + 'Tis jist avore the candle-light + Do redden windows up at night, + An' peäler stars do light the vogs + A-risčn vrom the brooks an' bogs, + An' when in barkens yoppčn dogs + Do bark at vo'k a-comčn near, + Or growl a-lis'enčn to hear + The veäiry veet that I do meet + Below the row o' beech trees. + + Dree times a-year do bless the road + O' womanhood a-gwaīn abrode: + When vu'st her litty veet do tread + The eärly Ma˙'s white deäisy bed: + When leaves be all a-scattered dead; + An' when the winter's vrozen grass + Do glissen in the zun lik' glass + Vor veäiry veet that I do meet + Below the row o' beech trees. + + + + +MORNČN. + + + When vu'st the breakčn day is red, + An' grass is dewy wet, + An' roun' the blackberry's a-spread + The spider's gliss'nčn net, + Then I do dreve the cows across + The brook that's in a vog, + While they do trot, an' bleäre, an' toss + Their heads to hook the dog; + Vor the cock do gi'e me warnčn, + An' light or dark, + So brisk's a lark, + I'm up at break o' mornčn. + + Avore the maīden's sleep's a-broke + By window-strikčn zun, + Avore the busy wife's vu'st smoke + Do curl above the tun, + My day's begun. An' when the zun + 'S a-zinkčn in the west, + The work the mornčn brought's a-done, + An' I do goo to rest, + Till the cock do gi'e me warnčn; + An' light or dark, + So brisk's a lark, + I'm up ageän nex' mornčn. + + We can't keep back the daily zun, + The wind is never still, + An' never ha' the streams a-done + A-runnčn down at hill. + Zoo they that ha' their work to do, + Should do't so soon's they can; + Vor time an' tide will come an' goo, + An' never waīt vor man, + As the cock do gi'e me warnčn; + When, light or dark, + So brisk's a lark, + I'm up so rathe in mornčn. + + We've leäzes where the aīr do blow, + An' meäds wi' deäiry cows, + An' copse wi' lewth an' sheäde below + The overhangčn boughs. + An' when the zun, noo time can tire, + 'S a-quench'd below the west, + Then we've, avore the bleäzčn vire, + A settle vor to rest,-- + To be up ageän nex' mornčn + So brisk's a lark, + When, light or dark, + The cock do gi'e us warnčn. + + + + +OUT A-NUTTČN. + + + Last week, when we'd a haul'd the crops, + We went a-nuttčn out in copse, + Wi' nuttčn-bags to bring hwome vull, + An' beaky nuttčn-crooks to pull + The bushes down; an' all o's wore + Wold clothes that wer in rags avore, + An' look'd, as we did skip an' zing, + Lik' merry gipsies in a string, + A-gwaīn a-nuttčn. + + Zoo drough the stubble, over rudge + An' vurrow, we begun to trudge; + An' Sal an' Nan agreed to pick + Along wi' me, an' Poll wi' Dick; + An' they went where the wold wood, high + An' thick, did meet an' hide the sky; + But we thought we mid vind zome good + Ripe nuts among the shorter wood, + The best vor nuttčn. + + We voun' zome bushes that did feäce + The downcast zunlight's highest pleäce, + Where clusters hung so ripe an' brown, + That some slipp'd shell an' vell to groun'. + But Sal wi' me zoo hitch'd her lag + In brembles, that she coulden wag; + While Poll kept clwose to Dick, an' stole + The nuts vrom's hinder pocket-hole, + While he did nutty. + + An' Nanny thought she zaw a sneäke, + An' jump'd off into zome girt breäke, + An' tore the bag where she'd a-put + Her sheäre, an' shatter'd ev'ry nut. + An' out in vield we all zot roun' + A white-stemm'd woak upon the groun', + Where yollor evenčn light did strik' + Drough yollow leaves, that still wer thick + In time o' nuttčn, + + An' twold ov all the luck we had + Among the bushes, good an' bad! + Till all the maīdens left the bwoys, + An' skipp'd about the leäze all woys + Vor musherooms, to car back zome, + A treat vor father in at hwome. + Zoo off we trudg'd wi' clothes in slents + An' libbets, jis' lik' Jack-o'-lents, + Vrom copse a-nuttčn. + + + + +TEAKEN IN APPLES. + + + We took the apples in last week, + An' got, by night, zome eächčn backs + A-stoopčn down all day to pick + So many up in mawns an' zacks. + An' there wer Liz so proud an' prim, + An' dumpy Nan, an' Poll so sly; + An' dapper Tom, an' loppčn Jim, + An' little Dick, an' Fan, an' I. + + An' there the lwoaded tree bent low, + Behung wi' apples green an' red; + An' springčn grass could hardly grow, + Drough windvalls down below his head. + An' when the maīdens come in roun' + The heavy boughs to vill their laps, + We slily shook the apples down + Lik' haīl, an' gi'ed their backs some raps. + + An' zome big apple, Jimmy flung + To squaīl me, gi'ed me sich a crack; + But very shortly his ear rung, + Wi' woone I zent to pa˙ en back. + An' after we'd a-had our squaīls, + Poor Tom, a-jumpčn in a bag, + Wer pinch'd by all the maīden's naīls, + An' rolled down into hwome-groun' quag. + + An' then they carr'd our Fan all roun', + 'Ithin a mawn, till zome girt stump + Upset en over on the groun', + An' drow'd her out along-straīght, plump. + An' in the cider-house we zot + Upon the windlass Poll an' Nan, + An' spun 'em roun' till they wer got + So giddy that they coulden stan'. + + + + +MEAPLE LEAVES BE YOLLOW. + + + Come, let's stroll down so vur's the poun', + Avore the sparklčn zun is down: + The zummer's gone, an' days so feäir + As theäse be now a-gettčn reäre. + The night, wi' mwore than daylight's sheäre + O' wat'ry sky, do wet wi' dew + The ee-grass up above woone's shoe, + An' meäple leaves be yollow. + + The last hot doust, above the road, + An' vu'st dead leaves ha' been a-blow'd + By pla˙some win's where spring did spread + The blossoms that the zummer shed; + An' near blue sloos an' conkers red + The evenčn zun, a zettčn soon, + Do leäve a-quiv'rčn to the moon, + The meäple leaves so yollow. + + Zoo come along, an' let's inja˙ + The last fine weather while do sta˙; + While thou canst hang, wi' ribbons slack, + Thy bonnet down upon thy back, + Avore the winter, cwold an' black, + Do kill thy flowers, an' avore + Thy bird-cage is a-took in door, + Though meäple leaves be yollow. + + + + +NIGHT A-ZETTEN IN. + + + When leäzers wi' their laps o' corn + Noo longer be a-stoopčn, + An' in the stubble, all vorlorn, + Noo poppies be a-droopčn; + When theäse young harvest-moon do weäne, + That now've his horns so thin, O, + We'll leäve off walkčn in the leäne, + While night's a zettčn in, O. + + When zummer doust is all a-laid + Below our litty shoes, O; + When all the raīn-chill'd flow'rs be dead, + That now do drink the dews, O; + When beauty's neck, that's now a-show'd, + 'S a-muffled to the chin, O; + We'll leäve off walkčn in the road, + When night's a-zettčn in, O. + + But now, while barley by the road + Do hang upon the bough, O, + A-pull'd by branches off the lwoad + A-ridčn hwome to mow, O; + While spiders roun' the flower-stalks + Ha' cobwebs yet to spin, O, + We'll cool ourzelves in out-door walks, + When night's a-zettčn in, O. + + While down at vword the brook so small, + That leätely wer so high, O, + Wi' little tinklčn sounds do vall + In roun' the stwones half dry, O; + While twilight ha' sich aīr in store, + To cool our zunburnt skin, O, + We'll have a ramble out o' door, + When night's a-zettčn in, O. + + + + +THE WEATHER-BEATEN TREE. + + + The woaken tree, a-beät at night + By stormy winds wi' all their spite, + Mid toss his lim's, an' ply, an' mwoan, + Wi' unknown struggles all alwone; + An' when the day do show his head, + A-stripp'd by winds at last a-laid, + How vew mid think that didden zee, + How night-time had a-tried thik tree. + + An' happy vo'k do seldom know + How hard our unknown storms do blow, + The while our heads do slowly bend + Below the trials God do zend, + Like shiv'rčn bennets, beäre to all + The drevčn winds o' dark'nčn fall. + An' zoo in tryčn hardships we + Be lik' the weather beäten tree. + + But He will never meäke our sheäre + O' sorrow mwore than we can bear, + But meäke us zee, if 'tis His will, + That He can bring us good vrom ill; + As after winter He do bring, + In His good time, the zunny spring, + An' leaves, an' young vo'k vull o' glee + A-dancčn roun' the woaken tree. + + True love's the ivy that do twine + Unwith'rčn roun' his mossy rine, + When winter's zickly zun do sheen + Upon its leaves o' glossy green, + So patiently a-holdčn vast + Till storms an' cwold be all a-past, + An' only livčn vor to be + A-meäted to the woaken tree. + + + + +SHRODON FEÄIR. + +_The vu'st Peärt._ + + + An' zoo's the day wer warm an' bright, + An' nar a cloud wer up in zight, + We wheedled father vor the meäre + An' cart, to goo to Shrodon feäir. + An' Poll an' Nan run off up stairs, + To shift their things, as wild as heäres; + An' pull'd out, each o'm vrom her box, + Their snow-white leäce an' newest frocks, + An' put their bonnets on, a-lined + Wi' blue, an' sashes tied behind; + An' turn'd avore the glass their feäce + An' back, to zee their things in pleäce; + While Dick an' I did brush our hats + An' cwoats, an' cleän ourzelves lik' cats. + At woone or two o'clock, we vound + Ourzelves at Shrodon seäfe an' sound, + A-struttčn in among the rows + O' tilted stannčns an' o' shows, + An' girt long booths wi' little bars + Chock-vull o' barrels, mugs, an' jars, + An' meat a-cookčn out avore + The vier at the upper door; + Where zellers bwold to buyers shy + Did hollow round us, "What d'ye buy?" + An' scores o' merry tongues did speak + At woonce, an' childern's pipes did squeak, + An' horns did blow, an' drums did rumble, + An' bawlčn merrymen did tumble; + An' woone did all but want an edge + To peärt the crowd wi', lik' a wedge. + + We zaw the dancers in a show + Dance up an' down, an' to an' fro, + Upon a rwope, wi' chalky zoles, + So light as magpies up on poles; + An' tumblers, wi' their streaks an' spots, + That all but tied theirzelves in knots. + An' then a conjurer burn'd off + Poll's han'kerchief so black's a snoff, + An' het en, wi' a single blow, + Right back ageän so white as snow. + An' after that, he fried a fat + Girt ceäke inzide o' my new hat; + An' yet, vor all he did en brown, + He didden even zweal the crown. + + + + +SHRODON FEÄR. + +_The rest o't._ + + + An' after that we met wi' zome + O' Mans'on vo'k, but jist a-come, + An' had a raffle vor a treat + All roun', o' gingerbread to eat; + An' Tom meäde leäst, wi' all his sheäkes, + An' paīd the money vor the ceäkes, + But wer so lwoth to put it down + As if a penny wer a poun'. + Then up come zidelčn Sammy Heäre, + That's fond o' Poll, an' she can't bear, + A-holdčn out his girt scram vist, + An' ax'd her, wi' a grin an' twist, + To have zome nuts; an' she, to hide + Her laughčn, turn'd her head azide, + An' answer'd that she'd rather not, + But Nancy mid. An' Nan, so hot + As vier, zaid 'twer quite enough + Vor Poll to answer vor herzuf: + She had a tongue, she zaid, an' wit + Enough to use en, when 'twer fit. + An' in the dusk, a-ridčn round + Drough Okford, who d'ye think we vound + But Sam ageän, a-gwäin vrom feäir + Astride his broken-winded meäre. + An' zoo, a-hettčn her, he tried + To keep up clwose by ouer zide: + But when we come to Ha˙ward-brudge, + Our Poll gi'ed Dick a meänčn nudge, + An' wi' a little twitch our meäre + Flung out her lags so lights a heäre, + An' left poor Sammy's skin an' bwones + Behind, a-kickčn o' the stwones. + + + + +MARTIN'S TIDE. + + + Come, bring a log o' cleft wood, Jack, + An' fling en on ageän the back, + An' zee the outside door is vast,-- + The win' do blow a cwoldish blast. + Come, so's! come, pull your chairs in roun' + Avore the vire; an' let's zit down, + An' keep up Martin's-tide, vor I + Shall keep it up till I do die. + 'Twer Martinmas, and ouer feäir, + When Jeäne an' I, a happy peäir, + Vu'st walk'd, a-keepčn up the tide, + Among the stan'ens, zide by zide; + An' thik day twel'month, never faīlčn, + She gi'ed me at the chancel raīlčn + A heart--though I do sound her praise-- + As true as ever beät in sta˙s. + How vast the time do goo! Do seem + But yesterday,--'tis lik' a dream! + + Ah, s[=o]'s! 'tis now zome years agoo + You vu'st knew me, an' I knew you; + An' we've a-had zome bits o' fun, + By winter vire an' zummer zun. + Aye; we've a-prowl'd an' rigg'd about + Lik' cats, in harm's way mwore than out, + An' busy wi' the tricks we pla˙'d + In fun, to outwit chap or maīd. + An' out avore the bleäzčn he'th, + Our naīsy tongues, in winter me'th, + 'V a-shook the warmčn-pan, a-hung + Bezide us, till his cover rung. + There, 'twer but tother day thik chap, + Our Robert, wer a child in lap; + An' Poll's two little lags hung down + Vrom thik wold chair a span vrom groun', + An' now the saucy wench do stride + About wi' steps o' dree veet wide. + How time do goo! A life do seem + As 'twer a year; 'tis lik' a dream! + + + + +GUY FAUX'S NIGHT. + + + Guy Faux's night, dost know, we chaps, + A-putten on our woldest traps, + Went up the highest o' the knaps, + An' meäde up such a vier! + An' thou an' Tom wer all we miss'd, + Vor if a sarpent had a-hiss'd + Among the rest in thy sprack vist, + Our fun 'd a-been the higher. + + We chaps at hwome, an' Will our cousin, + Took up a half a lwoad o' vuzzen; + An' burn'd a barrel wi' a dozen + O' faggots, till above en + The fleämes, arisčn up so high + 'S the tun, did snap, an' roar, an' ply, + Lik' vier in an' oven. + + An' zome wi' hissčn squibs did run, + To pa˙ off zome what they'd a-done, + An' let em off so loud's a gun + Ageän their smokčn polls; + An' zome did stir their nimble pags + Wi' crackers in between their lags, + While zome did burn their cwoats to rags, + Or wes'cots out in holes. + + An' zome o'm's heads lost half their locks, + An' zome o'm got their white smock-frocks + Jist fit to vill the tinder-box, + Wi' half the backs o'm off; + An' Dick, that all o'm vell upon, + Vound woone flap ov his cwoat-taīl gone, + An' tother jist a-hangčn on, + A-zweal'd so black's a snoff. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +THE COMMON A-TOOK IN. + + +_Thomas an' John._ + + + THOMAS. + + Good morn t'ye, John. How b'ye? how b'ye? + Zoo you be gwaīn to market, I do zee. + Why, you be quite a-lwoaded wi' your geese. + + JOHN. + + Ees, Thomas, ees. + Why, I'm a-gettčn rid ov ev'ry goose + An' goslčn I've a-got: an' what is woose, + I fear that I must zell my little cow. + + THOMAS. + + How zoo, then, John? Why, what's the matter now? + What, can't ye get along? B'ye run a-ground? + An' can't pa˙ twenty shillčns vor a pound? + What can't ye put a lwoaf on shelf? + + JOHN. + Ees, now; + But I do fear I shan't 'ithout my cow. + No; they do mëan to teäke the moor in, I do hear, + An' 'twill be soon begun upon; + Zoo I must zell my bit o' stock to-year, + Because they woon't have any groun' to run upon. + + THOMAS. + + Why, what d'ye tell o'? I be very zorry + To hear what they be gwaīn about; + But yet I s'pose there'll be a 'lotment vor ye, + When they do come to mark it out. + + JOHN. + + No; not vor me, I fear. An' if there should, + Why 'twoulden be so handy as 'tis now; + Vor 'tis the common that do do me good, + The run for my vew geese, or vor my cow. + + THOMAS. + + Ees, that's the job; why 'tis a handy thing + To have a bit o' common, I do know, + To put a little cow upon in Spring, + The while woone's bit ov orcha'd grass do grow. + + JOHN. + + Aye, that's the thing, you zee. Now I do mow + My bit o' grass, an' meäke a little rick; + An' in the zummer, while do grow, + My cow do run in common vor to pick + A bleäde or two o' grass, if she can vind em, + Vor tother cattle don't leäve much behind em. + Zoo in the evenčn, we do put a lock + O' nice fresh grass avore the wicket; + An' she do come at vive or zix o'clock, + As constant as the zun, to pick it. + An' then, bezides the cow, why we do let + Our geese run out among the emmet hills; + An' then when we do pluck em, we do get + Vor zeäle zome veathers an' zome quills; + An' in the winter we do fat em well, + An' car em to the market vor to zell + To gentlevo'ks, vor we don't oft avvword + To put a goose a-top ov ouer bwoard; + But we do get our feäst,--vor we be eäble + To clap the giblets up a-top o' teäble. + + THOMAS. + + An' I don't know o' many better things, + Than geese's heads and gizzards, lags an' wings. + + JOHN. + + An' then, when I ha' nothčn else to do, + Why I can teäke my hook an' gloves, an' goo + To cut a lot o' vuzz and briars + Vor hetčn ovens, or vor lightčn viers. + An' when the childern be too young to eärn + A penny, they can g'out in zunny weather, + An' run about, an' get together + A bag o' cow-dung vor to burn. + + THOMAS. + + 'Tis handy to live near a common; + But I've a-zeed, an' I've a-zaid, + That if a poor man got a bit o' bread, + They'll try to teäke it vrom en. + But I wer twold back tother day, + That they be got into a way + O' lettčn bits o' groun' out to the poor. + + JOHN. + + Well, I do hope 'tis true, I'm sure; + An' I do hope that they will do it here, + Or I must goo to workhouse, I do fear. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +TWO FARMS IN WOONE. + + +_Robert an' Thomas._ + + + ROBERT. + + You'll lose your meäster soon, then, I do vind; + He's gwaīn to leäve his farm, as I do larn, + At Miëlmas; an' I be zorry vor'n. + What, is he then a little bit behind? + + THOMAS. + + O no! at Miëlmas his time is up, + An' thik there sly wold fellow, Farmer Tup, + A-fearčn that he'd get a bit o' bread, + 'V a-been an' took his farm here over's head. + + ROBERT. + + How come the Squire to treat your meäster zoo? + + THOMAS. + + Why, he an' meäster had a word or two. + + ROBERT. + + Is Farmer Tup a-gwaīn to leäve his farm? + He han't a-got noo young woones vor to zwarm. + Poor over-reachčn man! why to be sure + He don't want all the farms in parish, do er? + + THOMAS. + + Why ees, all ever he can come across, + Last year, you know, he got away the eäcre + Or two o' ground a-rented by the beäker, + An' what the butcher had to keep his hoss; + An' vo'k do beänhan' now, that meäster's lot + Will be a-drowd along wi' what he got. + + ROBERT. + + That's it. In theäse here pleäce there used to be + Eight farms avore they wer a-drowd together, + An' eight farm-housen. Now how many be there? + Why after this, you know there'll be but dree. + + THOMAS. + + An' now they don't imploy so many men + Upon the land as work'd upon it then, + Vor all they midden crop it worse, nor stock it. + The lan'lord, to be sure, is into pocket; + Vor half the housen beën down, 'tis clear, + Don't cost so much to keep em up, a-near. + But then the jobs o' work in wood an' morter + Do come I 'spose, you know, a little shorter; + An' many that wer little farmers then, + Be now a-come all down to leäb'rčn men; + An' many leäb'rčn men, wi' empty hands, + Do live lik' drones upon the worker's lands. + + ROBERT. + + Aye, if a young chap, woonce, had any wit + To try an' scrape together zome vew pound, + To buy some cows an' teäke a bit o' ground, + He mid become a farmer, bit by bit. + But, hang it! now the farms be all so big, + An' bits o' groun' so skeä'ce, woone got no scope; + If woone could seäve a poun', woone couldden hope + To keep noo live stock but a little pig. + + THOMAS. + + Why here wer vourteen men, zome years agoo, + A-kept a-drashčn half the winter drough; + An' now, woone's drashels be'n't a bit o' good. + They got machines to drashy wi', plague teäke em! + An' he that vu'st vound out the way to meäke em, + I'd drash his busy zides vor'n if I could! + Avore they took away our work, they ought + To meäke us up the bread our leäbour bought. + + ROBERT. + + They hadden need meäke poor men's leäbour less, + Vor work a'ready is uncommon skeä'ce. + + THOMAS. + + Ah! Robert! times be badish vor the poor; + An' worse will come, I be a-fear'd, if Moore + In theäse year's almanick do tell us right. + + ROBERT. + + Why then we sartainly must starve. Good night! + + + + +WINTER + + + + +THE VROST. + + + Come, run up hwome wi' us to night, + Athirt the vield a-vroze so white, + Where vrosty sheädes do lie below + The winter ricks a-tipp'd wi' snow, + An' lively birds, wi' waggčn taīls, + Do hop upon the icy raīls, + An' rime do whiten all the tops + O' bush an' tree in hedge an' copse, + In wind's a-cuttčn keen. + + Come, maīdens, come: the groun's a-vroze + Too hard to-night to spweil your clothes. + You got noo pools to waddle drough, + Nor clay a-pullčn off your shoe: + An' we can trig ye at the zide, + To keep ye up if you do slide: + Zoo while there's neither wet nor mud, + 'S the time to run an' warm your blood, + In winds a-cuttčn keen. + + Vor young men's hearts an' maīden's eyes + Don't vreeze below the cwoldest skies, + While they in twice so keen a blast + Can wag their brisk lim's twice so vast! + Though vier-light, a-flick'rčn red + Drough vrosty window-peänes, do spread + Vrom wall to wall, vrom he'th to door, + Vor us to goo an' zit avore, + Vrom winds a-cuttčn keen. + + + + +A BIT O' FUN. + + + We thought you woulden leäve us quite + So soon as what you did last night; + Our fun jist got up to a height + As you about got hwome. + The friskčn chaps did skip about, + An' cou'se the maīdens in an' out, + A-meäkčn such a randy-rout, + You coulden hear a drum. + + An' Tom, a-springčn after Bet + Blind-vwolded, whizz'd along, an' het + Poor Grammer's zide, an' overzet + Her chair, at blind-man's buff; + An' she, poor soul, as she did vall, + Did show her snags o' teeth an' squall, + An' what, she zaid, wer wo'se than all, + She shatter'd all her snuff. + + An' Bet, a-hoppčn back vor fear + O' Tom, struck uncle zomewhere near, + An' meäde his han' spill all his beer + Right down her poll an' back; + An' Joe, in middle o' the din, + Slipt out a bit, an' soon come in + Wi' all below his dapper chin + A-jumpčn in a zack. + + An' in a twinklčn tother chaps + Jist hung en to a crook wi' straps, + An' meäde en bear the maīdens' slaps, + An' prickens wi' a pin. + An' Jim, a-catchčn Poll, poor chap, + In back-house in the dark, vell slap + Athirt a tub o' barm,--a trap + She set to catch en in. + + An' then we zot down out o' breath, + An' meäde a circle roun' the he'th, + A-keepčn up our harmless me'th, + Till supper wer a-come. + An' after we'd a-had zome prog, + All tother chaps begun to jog, + Wi' sticks to lick a thief or dog, + To zee the maīdens hwome. + + + + +FANNYS BE'TH-DAY. + + + How merry, wi' the cider cup, + We kept poor Fanny's be'th-day up! + An' how our busy tongues did run + An' hands did wag, a-meäkčn fun! + What pla˙some anticks zome [=o]'s done! + An' how, a-reelčn roun' an' roun', + We beät the merry tučn down, + While music wer a-soundčn! + + The maīdens' eyes o' black an' blue + Did glisten lik' the mornčn dew; + An' while the cider-mug did stand + A-hissčn by the bleäzčn brand, + An' uncle's pipe wer in his hand, + How little he or we did think + How peäle the zettčn stars did blink + While music wer a-soundčn. + + An' Fanny's last young _teen_ begun, + Poor maīd, wi' thik day's risčn zun, + An' we all wish'd her many mwore + Long years wi' happiness in store; + An' as she went an' stood avore + The vier, by her father's zide, + Her mother dropp'd a tear o' pride + While music wer a-soundčn. + + An' then we did all kinds o' tricks + Wi' han'kerchiefs, an' strings, an' sticks: + An' woone did try to overmatch + Another wi' zome cunnčn catch, + While tothers slyly tried to hatch + Zome geäme; but yet, by chap an' maīd. + The dancčn wer the mwost inja˙'d, + While music wer a-soundčn. + + The briskest chap ov all the lot + Wer Tom, that danc'd hizzelf so hot, + He doff'd his cwoat an' jump'd about, + Wi' girt new shirt-sleeves all a-strout, + Among the maīdens screamčn out, + A-thinkčn, wi' his strides an' stamps, + He'd squot their veet wi' his girt clamps, + While music wer a-soundčn. + + Then up jump'd uncle vrom his chair, + An' pull'd out aunt to meäke a peäir; + An' off he zet upon his tooe, + So light's the best that beät a shoe, + Wi' aunt a-cričn "Let me goo:" + While all ov us did laugh so loud, + We drown'd the tučn o' the croud, + While music wer a-soundčn. + + A-comčn out o' passage, Nan, + Wi' pipes an' cider in her han', + An' watchčn uncle up so sprack, + Vorgot her veet, an' vell down smack + Athirt the house-dog's shaggy back, + That wer in passage vor a snooze, + Beyond the reach o' dancers' shoes, + While music wer a-soundčn. + + + + +WHAT DICK AN' I DID. + + + Last week the Browns ax'd nearly all + The naīghbours to a randy, + An' left us out o't, girt an' small, + Vor all we liv'd so handy; + An' zoo I zaid to Dick, "We'll trudge, + When they be in their fun, min; + An' car up zome'hat to the rudge, + An' jis' stop up the tun, min." + + Zoo, wi' the ladder vrom the rick, + We stole towards the house, + An' crope in roun' behind en, lik' + A cat upon a mouse. + Then, lookčn roun', Dick whisper'd "How + Is theäse job to be done, min: + Why we do want a faggot now, + Vor stoppčn up the tun, min." + + "Stan' still," I answer'd; "I'll teäke ceäre + O' that: why dussen zee + The little grindčn stwone out there, + Below the apple-tree? + Put up the ladder; in a crack + Shalt zee that I wull run, min, + An' teäke en up upon my back, + An' soon stop up the tun, min." + + Zoo up I clomb upon the thatch, + An' clapp'd en on; an' slided + Right down ageän, an' run drough hatch, + Behind the hedge, an' hided. + The vier that wer clear avore, + Begun to spweil their fun, min; + The smoke all roll'd toward the door, + Vor I'd a-stopp'd the tun, min. + + The maīdens cough'd or stopp'd their breath, + The men did hauk an' spet; + The wold vo'k bundled out from he'th + Wi' eyes a-runnčn wet. + "'T'ool choke us all," the wold man cried, + "Whatever's to be done, min? + Why zome'hat is a-vell inside + O' chimney drough the tun, min." + + Then out they scamper'd all, vull run, + An' out cried Tom, "I think + The grindčn-stwone is up on tun, + Vor I can zee the wink. + This is some kindness that the vo'k + At Woodley have a-done, min; + I wish I had em here, I'd poke + Their numskulls down the tun, min." + + Then off he zet, an' come so quick + 'S a lamplighter, an' brote + The little ladder in vrom rick, + To clear the chimney's droat. + While I, a-chucklčn at the joke, + A-slided down, to run, min, + To hidelock, had a-left the vo'k + As bad as na'r a tun, min. + + + + +GRAMMER'S SHOES. + + + I do seem to zee Grammer as she did use + Vor to show us, at Chris'mas, her weddčn shoes, + An' her flat spreadčn bonnet so big an' roun' + As a girt pewter dish a-turn'd upside down; + When we all did draw near + In a cluster to hear + O' the merry wold soul how she did use + To walk an' to dance wi' her high-heel shoes. + + She'd a gown wi' girt flowers lik' hollyhocks, + An' zome stockčns o' gramfer's a-knit wė' clocks, + An' a token she kept under lock an' key,-- + A small lock ov his heäir off avore 't wer grey. + An' her eyes wer red, + An' she shook her head, + When we'd all a-look'd at it, an' she did use + To lock it away wi' her weddčn shoes. + + She could tell us such teäles about heavy snows, + An' o' raīns an' o' floods when the waters rose + All up into the housen, an' carr'd awoy + All the bridge wi' a man an' his little bwoy; + An' o' vog an' vrost, + An' o' vo'k a-lost, + An' o' peärties at Chris'mas, when she did use + Vor to walk hwome wi' gramfer in high-heel shoes. + + Ev'ry Chris'mas she lik'd vor the bells to ring, + An' to have in the zingers to heär em zing + The wold carols she heärd many years a-gone, + While she warm'd em zome cider avore the bron'; + An' she'd look an' smile + At our dancčn, while + She did tell how her friends now a-gone did use + To reely wi' her in their high-heel shoes. + + Ah! an' how she did like vor to deck wi' red + Holly-berries the window an' wold clock's head, + An' the clavy wi' boughs o' some bright green leaves, + An' to meäke twoast an' eäle upon Chris'mas eves; + But she's now, drough greäce, + In a better pleäce, + Though we'll never vorget her, poor soul, nor lose + Gramfer's token ov heäir, nor her weddčn shoes. + + + + +ZUNSHEEN IN THE WINTER. + + + The winter clouds, that long did hide + The zun, be all a-blown azide, + An' in the light, noo longer dim, + Do sheen the ivy that do clim' + The tower's zide an' elem's stim; + An' holmen bushes, in between + The leafless thorns, be bright an' green + To zunsheen o' the winter. + + The trees, that yesterday did twist + In wind's a-drevčn raīn an' mist, + Do now drow sheädes out, long an' still; + But roarčn watervals do vill + Their whirlčn pools below the hill, + Where, wi' her paīl upon the stile, + A-gwaīn a-milkčn Jeäne do smile + To zunsheen o' the winter. + + The birds do sheäke, wi' pla˙some skips, + The raīn-drops off the bushes' tips, + A-chirripčn wi' merry sound; + While over all the grassy ground + The wind's a-whirlčn round an' round + So softly, that the day do seem + Mwore lik' a zummer in a dream, + Than zunsheen in the winter. + + The wold vo'k now do meet abrode, + An' tell o' winter's they've a-know'd; + When snow wer long above the groun', + Or floods broke all the bridges down, + Or wind unheal'd a half the town,-- + The teäles o' wold times long a-gone, + But ever dear to think upon, + The zunsheen o' their winter. + + Vor now to them noo brook can run, + Noo hill can feäce the winter zun, + Noo leaves can vall, noo flow'rs can feäde, + Noo snow can hide the grasses bleäde, + Noo vrost can whiten in the sheäde, + Noo day can come, but what do bring + To mind ageän their early spring, + That's now a-turn'd to winter. + + + + +THE WEEPEN LEADY. + + + When, leäte o' nights, above the green + By thik wold house, the moon do sheen, + A leädy there, a-hangčn low + Her head, 's a-walkčn to an' fro + In robes so white's the driven snow, + Wi' woone eärm down, while woone do rest + All lily-white athirt the breast + O' thik poor weepčn leädy. + + The whirlčn wind an' whis'lčn squall + Do sheäke the ivy by the wall, + An' meäke the plyčn tree-tops rock, + But never ruffle her white frock; + An' slammčn door an' rattlčn lock, + That in thik empty house do sound, + Do never seem to meäke look round + Thik ever downcast leädy. + + A leädy, as the teäle do goo, + That woonce liv'd there, an' lov'd too true, + Wer by a young man cast azide. + A mother sad, but not a bride; + An' then her father, in his pride + An' anger, offer'd woone o' two + Vull bitter things to undergoo + To thik poor weepčn leädy: + + That she herzelf should leäve his door, + To darken it ageän noo mwore; + Or that her little pla˙some chile, + A-zent away a thousand mile, + Should never meet her eyes to smile + An' pla˙ ageän; till she, in sheäme, + Should die an' leäve a tarnish'd neäme, + A sad vorseäken leädy. + + "Let me be lost," she cried, "the while + I do but know vor my poor chile;" + An' left the hwome ov all her pride, + To wander drough the worold wide, + Wi' grief that vew but she ha' tried: + An' lik' a flow'r a blow ha' broke, + She wither'd wi' the deadly stroke, + An' died a weepčn leädy. + + An' she do keep a-comčn on + To zee her father dead an' gone, + As if her soul could have noo rest + Avore her teäry cheäk's a-prest + By his vorgivčn kiss. Zoo blest + Be they that can but live in love, + An' vind a pleäce o' rest above + Unlik' the weepčn leädy. + + + + +THE HAPPY DAYS WHEN I WER YOUNG. + + + In happy days when I wer young, + An' had noo ho, an' laugh'd an' zung, + The maīd wer merry by her cow, + An' men wer merry wi' the plough; + But never talk'd, at hwome or out + O' doors, o' what's a-talk'd about + By many now,--that to despise + The laws o' God an' man is wise. + Wi' daīly health, an' daīly bread, + An' thatch above their shelter'd head, + They velt noo fear, an' had noo spite, + To keep their eyes awake at night; + But slept in peace wi' God on high + An' man below, an' fit to die. + + O' grassy meäd an' woody nook, + An' waters o' the windčn brook, + That sprung below the vu'st dark sky + That raīn'd, to run till seas be dry; + An' hills a-stannčn on while all + The works o' man do rise an' vall; + An' trees the toddlčn child do vind + At vu'st, an' leäve at last behind; + I wish that you could now unvwold + The peace an' jäy o' times o' wold; + An' tell, when death do still my tongue, + O' happy days when I wer young. + Vrom where wer all this venom brought, + To kill our hope an' taīnt our thought? + Clear brook! thy water coulden bring + Such venom vrom thy rocky spring; + Nor could it come in zummer blights, + Or reävčn storms o' winter nights, + Or in the cloud an' viry stroke + O' thunder that do split the woak. + + O valley dear! I wish that I + 'D a-liv'd in former times, to die + Wi' all the happy souls that trod + Thy turf in peäce, an' died to God; + Or gone wi' them that laugh'd an' zung + In happy days when I wer young! + + + + +IN THE STILLNESS O' THE NIGHT. + + + Ov all the housen o' the pleäce, + There's woone where I do like to call + By day or night the best ov all, + To zee my Fanny's smilčn feäce; + An' there the steätely trees do grow, + A-rockčn as the win' do blow, + While she do sweetly sleep below, + In the stillness o' the night. + + An' there, at evenčn, I do goo + A-hoppčn over geätes an' bars, + By twinklčn light o' winter stars, + When snow do clumper to my shoe; + An' zometimes we do slyly catch + A chat an hour upon the stratch, + An' peärt wi' whispers at the hatch + In the stillness o' the night. + + An' zometimes she do goo to zome + Young naīghbours' housen down the pleäce, + An' I do get a clue to treäce + Her out, an' goo to zee her hwome; + An' I do wish a vield a mile, + As she do sweetly chat an' smile + Along the drove, or at the stile, + In the stillness o' the night. + + + + +THE SETTLE AN' THE GIRT WOOD VIRE. + + + Ah! naīghbour John, since I an' you + Wer youngsters, ev'ry thing is new. + My father's vires wer all o' logs + O' cleft-wood, down upon the dogs + Below our clavy, high, an' brode + Enough to teäke a cart an' lwoad, + Where big an' little all zot down + At bwoth zides, an' bevore, all roun'. + An' when I zot among em, I + Could zee all up ageän the sky + Drough chimney, where our vo'k did hitch + The zalt-box an' the beäcon-vlitch, + An' watch the smoke on out o' vier, + All up an' out o' tun, an' higher. + An' there wer beäcon up on rack, + An' pleätes an' dishes on the tack; + An' roun' the walls wer heärbs a-stowed + In peäpern bags, an' blathers blowed. + An' just above the clavy-bwoard + Wer father's spurs, an' gun, an' sword; + An' there wer then, our girtest pride, + The settle by the vier zide. + Ah! gi'e me, if I wer a squier, + The settle an' the girt wood vier. + + But they've a-wall'd up now wi' bricks + The vier pleäce vor dogs an' sticks, + An' only left a little hole + To teäke a little greäte o' coal, + So small that only twos or drees + Can jist push in an' warm their knees. + An' then the carpets they do use, + B[=e]n't fit to tread wi' ouer shoes; + An' chairs an' couches be so neat, + You mussen teäke em vor a seat: + They be so fine, that vo'k mus' pleäce + All over em an' outer ceäse, + An' then the cover, when 'tis on, + Is still too fine to loll upon. + Ah! gi'e me, if I wer a squier, + The settle an' the girt wood vier. + + Carpets, indeed! You coulden hurt + The stwone-vloor wi' a little dirt; + Vor what wer brought in doors by men, + The women soon mopp'd out ageän. + Zoo we did come vrom muck an' mire, + An' walk in straīght avore the vier; + But now, a man's a-kept at door + At work a pirty while, avore + He's screäp'd an' rubb'd, an' cleän and fit + To goo in where his wife do zit. + An' then if he should have a whiff + In there, 'twould only breed a miff: + He c[=a]nt smoke there, vor smoke woon't goo + 'Ithin the footy little flue. + Ah! gi'e me, if I wer a squier, + The settle an' the girt wood vier. + + + + +THE CARTER. + + + O, I be a carter, wi' my whip + A-smackčn loud, as by my zide, + Up over hill, an' down the dip, + The heavy lwoad do slowly ride. + + An' I do haul in all the crops, + An' I do bring in vuzz vrom down; + An' I do goo vor wood to copse, + An' car the corn an' straw to town. + + An' I do goo vor lime, an' bring + Hwome cider wi' my sleek-heäir'd team, + An' smack my limber whip an' zing, + While all their bells do gaīly cheeme. + + An' I do always know the pleäce + To gi'e the hosses breath, or drug; + An' ev'ry hoss do know my feäce, + An' mind my '_mether ho_! an' _whug_! + + An' merry ha˙-meäkers do ride + Vrom vield in zummer wi' their prongs, + In my blue waggon, zide by zide + Upon the reäves, a-zingčn zongs. + + An' when the vrost do catch the stream, + An' oves wi' icicles be hung, + My pantčn hosses' breath do steam + In white-grass'd vields, a-haulčn dung. + + An' mine's the waggon fit vor lwoads, + An' mine be lwoads to cut a rout; + An' mine's a team, in routy rwoads, + To pull a lwoaded waggon out. + + A zull is nothčn when do come + Behind their lags; an' they do teäke + A roller as they would a drum, + An' harrow as they would a reäke. + + O! I be a carter, wi' my whip + A-smackčn loud, as by my zide, + Up over hill, an' down the dip, + The heavy lwoad do slowly ride. + + + + +CHRIS'MAS INVITATION. + + + Come down to-morrow night; an' mind, + Don't leäve thy fiddle-bag behind; + We'll sheäke a lag, an' drink a cup + O' eäle, to keep wold Chris'mas up. + + An' let thy sister teäke thy eärm, + The walk won't do her any harm; + There's noo dirt now to spweil her frock, + The ground's a-vroze so hard's a rock. + + You won't meet any stranger's feäce, + But only naīghbours o' the pleäce, + An' Stowe, an' Combe; an' two or dree + Vrom uncle's up at Rookery. + + An' thou wu'lt vind a rwosy feäce, + An' peäir ov eyes so black as sloos, + The prettiest woones in all the pleäce,-- + I'm sure I needen tell thee whose. + + We got a back-bran', dree girt logs + So much as dree ov us can car; + We'll put em up athirt the dogs, + An' meäke a vier to the bar. + + An' ev'ry woone shall tell his teäle, + An' ev'ry woone shall zing his zong, + An' ev'ry woone wull drink his eäle + To love an' frien'ship all night long. + + We'll snap the tongs, we'll have a ball, + We'll sheäke the house, we'll lift the ruf, + We'll romp an' meäke the maīdens squall, + A catchčn o'm at blind-man's buff. + + Zoo come to-morrow night; an' mind, + Don't leäve thy fiddle-bag behind; + We'll sheäke a lag, an' drink a cup + O' eäle, to keep wold Chris'mas up. + + + + +KEEPEN UP O' CHRIS'MAS. + + + An' zoo you didden come athirt, + To have zome fun last night: how wer't? + Vor we'd a-work'd wi' all our might + To scour the iron things up bright, + An' brush'd an' scrubb'd the house all drough; + An' brought in vor a brand, a plock + O' wood so big's an uppčn-stock, + An' hung a bough o' misseltoo, + An' ax'd a merry friend or two, + To keepčn up o' Chris'mas. + + An' there wer wold an' young; an' Bill, + Soon after dark, stalk'd up vrom mill. + An' when he wer a-comčn near, + He whissled loud vor me to hear; + Then roun' my head my frock I roll'd, + An' stood in orcha'd like a post, + To meäke en think I wer a ghost. + But he wer up to't, an' did scwold + To vind me stannčn in the cwold, + A keepčn up o' Chris'mas. + + We pla˙'d at forfeits, an' we spun + The trencher roun', an' meäde such fun! + An' had a geäme o' dree-ceärd loo, + An' then begun to hunt the shoe. + An' all the wold vo'k zittčn near, + A-chattčn roun' the vier pleäce, + Did smile in woone another's feäce. + An' sheäke right hands wi' hearty cheer, + An' let their left hands spill their beer, + A keepčn up o' Chris'mas. + + + + +ZITTEN OUT THE WOLD YEAR. + + + Why, raīn or sheen, or blow or snow, + I zaid, if I could stand so's, + I'd come, vor all a friend or foe, + To sheäke ye by the hand, so's; + An' spend, wi' kinsvo'k near an' dear, + A happy evenčn, woonce a year, + A-zot wi' me'th + Avore the he'th + To zee the new year in, so's. + + There's Jim an' Tom, a-grown the size + O' men, girt lusty chaps, so's, + An' Fanny wi' her sloo-black eyes, + Her mother's very dap's, so's; + An' little Bill, so brown's a nut, + An' Poll a gigglčn little slut, + I hope will shoot + Another voot + The year that's comčn in, so's. + + An' there, upon his mother's knee, + So peärt do look about, so's, + The little woone ov all, to zee + His vu'st wold year goo out, so's + An' zoo mid God bless all o's still, + Gwaīn up or down along the hill, + To meet in glee + Ageän to zee + A happy new year in, so's. + + The wold clock's han' do softly steal + Up roun' the year's last hour, so's; + Zoo let the han'-bells ring a peal, + Lik' them a-hung in tow'r, so's. + Here, here be two vor Tom, an' two + Vor Fanny, an' a peäir vor you; + We'll meäke em swing, + An' meäke em ring, + The merry new year in, so's. + + Tom, mind your time there; you be wrong. + Come, let your bells all sound, so's: + A little clwoser, Poll; ding, dong! + There, now 'tis right all round, so's. + The clock's a-strikčn twelve, d'ye hear? + Ting, ting, ding, dong! Farewell, wold year! + 'Tis gone, 'tis gone!-- + Goo on, goo on, + An' ring the new woone in, so's! + + + + +WOAK WER GOOD ENOUGH WOONCE. + + + Ees: now mahogany's the goo, + An' good wold English woak won't do. + I wish vo'k always mid avvword + Hot meals upon a woakčn bwoard, + As good as thik that took my cup + An' trencher all my growčn up. + Ah! I do mind en in the hall, + A-reachčn all along the wall, + Wi' us at father's end, while tother + Did teäke the maīdens wi' their mother; + An' while the risčn steam did spread + In curlčn clouds up over head, + Our mouths did wag, an' tongues did run, + To meäke the maīdens laugh o' fun. + + A woaken bedstead, black an' bright, + Did teäke my weary bwones at night, + Where I could stratch an' roll about + Wi' little fear o' vallčn out; + An' up above my head a peäir + Ov ugly heads a-carv'd did steäre, + An' grin avore a bright vull moon + A'most enough to frighten woone. + An' then we had, vor cwoats an' frocks, + Woak cwoffers wi' their rusty locks + An' neämes in naīls, a-left behind + By kinsvo'k dead an' out o' mind; + Zoo we did get on well enough + Wi' things a-meäde ov English stuff. + But then, you know, a woaken stick + Wer cheap, vor woaken trees wer thick. + When poor wold Gramfer Green wer young, + He zaid a squirrel mid a-sprung + Along the dell, vrom tree to tree, + Vrom Woodcomb all the way to Lea; + An' woak wer all vo'k did avvword, + Avore his time, vor bed or bwoard. + + + + +LULLABY. + + + The rook's nest do rock on the tree-top + Where vew foes can stand; + The martin's is high, an' is deep + In the steep cliff o' zand. + But thou, love, a-sleepčn where vootsteps + Mid come to thy bed, + Hast father an' mother to watch thee + An' shelter thy head. + Lullaby, Lilybrow. Lie asleep; + Blest be thy rest. + + An' zome birds do keep under ruffčn + Their young vrom the storm, + An' zome wi' nest-hoodčns o' moss + And o' wool, do lie warm. + An' we wull look well to the houseruf + That o'er thee mid leäk, + An' the blast that mid beät on thy winder + Shall not smite thy cheäk. + Lullaby, Lilibrow. Lie asleep; + Blest be thy rest. + + + + +MEARY-ANN'S CHILD. + + + Meary-Ann wer alwone wi' her beäby in eärms, + In her house wi' the trees over head, + Vor her husban' wer out in the night an' the storms, + In his business a-tweilčn vor bread; + An' she, as the wind in the elems did roar, + Did grievy vor Robert all night out o' door. + + An' her kinsvo'k an' naī'bours did zay ov her chile, + (Under the high elem tree), + That a prettier never did babble or smile + Up o' top ov a proud mother's knee; + An' his mother did toss en, an' kiss en, an' call + En her darlčn, an' life, an' her hope, an' her all. + + But she vound in the evenčn the chile werden well, + (Under the dark elem tree), + An' she thought she could gi'e all the worold to tell, + Vor a truth what his aīlčn mid be; + An' she thought o'en last in her pra˙ers at night, + An' she look'd at en last as she put out the light. + + An' she vound en grow wo'se in the dead o' the night, + (Under the dark elem tree), + An' she press'd en ageän her warm bosom so tight, + An' she rock'd en so sorrowfully; + An' there laid a-nestlčn the poor little bwoy, + Till his struggles grew weak, an' his cries died awoy. + + An' the moon wer a-sheenčn down into the pleäce, + (Under the dark elem tree), + An' his mother could zee that his lips an' his feäce + Wer so white as cleän axen could be; + An' her tongue wer a-tied an' her still heart did zwell, + Till her senses come back wi' the vu'st tear that vell. + + Never mwore can she veel his warm feäce in her breast, + (Under the green elem tree), + Vor his eyes be a-shut, an' his hands be at rest, + An' he's now vrom his paīn a-zet free; + Vor his soul, we do know, is to heaven a-vled, + Where noo paīn is a-known, an' noo tears be a-shed. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +FATHER COME HWOME. + + +_John, Wife, an' Child._ + + + CHILD. + + O mother, mother! be the teäties done? + Here's father now a-comčn down the track, + Hes got his nitch o' wood upon his back, + An' such a speäker in en! I'll be bound, + He's long enough to reach vrom ground + Up to the top ov ouer tun; + 'Tis jist the very thing vor Jack an' I + To goo a-colepecksčn wi' by an' by. + + WIFE. + + The teäties must be ready pretty nigh; + Do teäke woone up upon the fork' an' try. + The ceäke upon the vier, too, 's a-burnčn, + I be afeärd: do run an' zee, an' turn en. + + JOHN. + + Well, mother! here I be woonce mwore, at hwome. + + WIFE. + + Ah! I be very glad you be a-come. + You be a-tired an' cwold enough, I s'pose; + Zit down an' rest your bwones, an' warm your nose. + + JOHN. + + Why I be nippy: what is there to eat? + + WIFE. + + Your supper's nearly ready. I've a got + Some teäties here a-dočn in the pot; + I wish wi' all my heart I had some meat. + I got a little ceäke too, here, a-beäken o'n + Upon the vier. 'Tis done by this time though. + He's nice an' moist; vor when I wer a-meäken o'n + I stuck some bits ov apple in the dough. + + CHILD. + + Well, father; what d'ye think? The pig got out + This mornčn; an' avore we zeed or heärd en, + He run about, an' got out into geärden, + An' routed up the groun' zoo wi' his snout! + + JOHN. + + Now only think o' that! You must contrive + To keep en in, or else he'll never thrive. + + CHILD. + + An' father, what d'ye think? I voun' to-day + The nest where thik wold hen ov our's do lay: + 'Twer out in orcha'd hedge, an' had vive aggs. + + WIFE. + + Lo'k there: how wet you got your veet an' lags! + How did ye get in such a pickle, Jahn? + + JOHN. + + I broke my hoss, an' been a-fwo'ced to stan' + All's day in mud an' water vor to dig, + An' meäde myzelf so wetshod as a pig. + + CHILD. + + Father, teäke off your shoes, then come, and I + Will bring your wold woones vor ye, nice an' dry. + + WIFE. + + An' have ye got much hedgčn mwore to do? + + JOHN. + + Enough to last vor dree weeks mwore or zoo. + + WIFE. + + An' when y'ave done the job you be about, + D'ye think you'll have another vound ye out? + + JOHN. + + O ees, there'll be some mwore: vor after that, + I got a job o' trenchčn to goo at; + An' then zome trees to shroud, an' wood to vell,-- + Zoo I do hope to rub on pretty well + Till zummer time; an' then I be to cut + The wood an' do the trenchčn by the tut. + + CHILD. + + An' nex' week, father, I'm a-gwaīn to goo + A-pickčn stwones, d'ye know, vor Farmer True. + + WIFE. + + An' little Jack, you know, 's a-gwaīn to eärn + A penny too, a-keepčn birds off corn. + + JOHN. + + O brave! What wages do 'e meän to gi'e? + + WIFE. + + She dreppence vor a day, an' twopence he. + + JOHN. + + Well, Polly; thou must work a little spracker + When thou bist out, or else thou wu'ten pick + A dungpot lwoad o' stwones up very quick. + + CHILD. + + Oh! yes I shall. But Jack do want a clacker: + An' father, wull ye teäke an' cut + A stick or two to meäke his hut. + + JOHN. + + You wench! why you be always up a-baggčn. + I be too tired now to-night, I'm sure, + To zet a-dočn any mwore: + Zoo I shall goo up out o' the way o' the waggon. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +A GHOST. + + +_Jem an' Dick._ + + + JEM. + + This is a darkish evenčn; b'ye a-feärd + O' zights? Theäse leäne's a-haunted, I've a heärd. + + DICK. + + No, I be'nt much a-feär'd. If vo'k don't strive + To over-reach me while they be alive, + I don't much think the dead wull ha' the will + To come back here to do me any ill. + An' I've a-been about all night, d'ye know, + Vrom candle-lightčn till the cock did crow; + But never met wi' nothčn bad enough + To be much wo'se than what I be myzuf; + Though I, lik' others, have a-heärd vo'k zay + The girt house is a-haunted, night an' day. + + JEM. + + Aye; I do mind woone winter 'twer a-zaid + The farmer's vo'k could hardly sleep a-bed, + They heärd at night such scuffčns an' such jumpčns, + Such ugly naīses an' such rottlčn thumpčns. + + DICK. + + Aye, I do mind I heärd his son, young Sammy, + Tell how the chairs did dance an' doors did slammy; + He stood to it--though zome vo'k woulden heed en-- + He didden only hear the ghost, but zeed en; + An', hang me! if I han't a'most a-shook, + To hear en tell what ugly sheäpes it took. + Did zometimes come vull six veet high, or higher, + In white, he zaid, wi' eyes lik' coals o' vier; + An' zometimes, wi' a feäce so peäle as milk, + A smileless leädy, all a-deck'd in silk. + His heäir, he zaid, did use to stand upright, + So stiff's a bunch o' rushes, wi' his fright. + + JEM. + + An' then you know that zome'hat is a-zeed + Down there in leäne, an' over in the meäd, + A-comčn zometimes lik' a slinkčn hound, + Or rollčn lik' a vleece along the ground. + An' woonce, when gramfer wi' his wold grey meäre + Wer ridčn down the leäne vrom Shroton feäir, + It roll'd so big's a pack ov wool across + The road just under en, an' leäm'd his hoss. + + DICK. + + Aye; did ye ever hear--vo'k zaid 'twer true-- + O' what bevell Jack Hine zome years agoo? + Woone vrosty night, d'ye know, at Chris'mas tide, + Jack, an' another chap or two bezide, + 'D a-been out, zomewhere up at tother end + O' parish, to a naīghbour's house to spend + A merry hour, an' mid a-took a cup + Or two o' eäle a-keepčn Chris'mas up; + Zoo I do lot 'twer leäte avore the peärty + 'D a-burnt their bron out; I do lot, avore + They thought o' turnčn out o' door + 'Twer mornčn, vor their friendship then wer hearty. + Well; clwose ageän the vootpath that do leäd + Vrom higher parish over withy-meäd, + There's still a hollow, you do know: they tried there, + In former times, to meäke a cattle-pit, + But gie'd it up, because they coulden get + The water any time to bide there. + Zoo when the merry fellows got + Just overright theäse lwonesome spot, + Jack zeed a girt big house-dog wi' a collar, + A-stannčn down in thik there hollor. + Lo'k there, he zaīd, there's zome girt dog a-prowlčn: + I'll just goo down an' gi'e'n a goodish lick + Or two wi' theäse here groun'-ash stick, + An' zend the shaggy rascal hwome a-howlčn. + Zoo there he run, an' gi'ed en a good whack + Wi' his girt ashen stick a-thirt his back; + An', all at woonce, his stick split right all down + In vower pieces; an' the pieces vled + Out ov his hand all up above his head, + An' pitch'd in vower corners o' the groun'. + An' then he velt his han' get all so num', + He coulden veel a vinger or a thum'; + An' after that his eärm begun to zwell, + An' in the night a-bed he vound + The skin o't peelčn off all round. + 'Twer near a month avore he got it well. + + JEM. + + That wer vor hettčn [=o]'n. He should a let en + Alwone d'ye zee: 'twer wicked vor to het en. + + + + +SUNDRY PIECES. + + + + +A ZONG. + + + O Jenny, don't sobby! vor I shall be true; + Noo might under heaven shall peärt me vrom you. + My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I do slight + The zwell o' thy bosom, thy eyes' sparklčn light. + + My kinsvo'k would faīn zee me teäke vor my meäte + A maīd that ha' wealth, but a maīd I should heäte; + But I'd sooner leäbour wi' thee vor my bride, + Than live lik' a squier wi' any bezide. + + Vor all busy kinsvo'k, my love will be still + A-zet upon thee lik' the vir in the hill; + An' though they mid worry, an' dreaten, an' mock, + My head's in the storm, but my root's in the rock. + + Zoo, Jenny, don't sobby! vor I shall be true; + Noo might under heaven shall peärt me vrom you. + My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I do slight + The zwell o' thy bosom, thy eyes' sparklčn light. + + + + +THE MAID VOR MY BRIDE. + + + Ah! don't tell o' maīdens! the woone vor my bride + Is little lik' too many maīdens bezide,-- + Not brantčn, nor spitevul, nor wild; she've a mind + To think o' what's right, an' a heart to be kind. + + She's straīght an' she's slender, but not over tall, + Wi' lim's that be lightsome, but not over small; + The goodness o' heaven do breathe in her feäce, + An' a queen, to be steätely, must walk wi' her peäce. + + Her frocks be a-meäde all becomčn an' plaīn, + An' cleän as a blossom undimm'd by a staīn; + Her bonnet ha' got but two ribbons, a-tied + Up under her chin, or let down at the zide. + + When she do speak to woone, she don't steäre an' grin; + There's sense in her looks, vrom her eyes to her chin, + An' her words be so kind, an' her speech is so meek, + As her eyes do look down a-beginnčn to speak. + + Her skin is so white as a lily, an' each + Ov her cheäks is so downy an' red as a peach; + She's pretty a-zittčn; but oh! how my love + Do watch her to madness when woonce she do move. + + An' when she do walk hwome vrom church drough the groun', + Wi' woone eärm in mine, an' wi' woone a-hung down, + I do think, an' do veel mwore o' sheäme than o' pride, + That do meäke me look ugly to walk by her zide. + + Zoo don't talk o' maīden's! the woone vor my bride + Is but little lik' too many maīdens bezide,-- + Not brantčn, nor spitevul, nor wild; she've a mind + To think o' what's right, an' a heart to be kind. + + + + +THE HWOMESTEAD. + + + If I had all the land my zight + Can overlook vrom Chalwell hill, + Vrom Sherborn left to Blanvord right, + Why I could be but happy still. + An' I be happy wi' my spot + O' freehold ground an' mossy cot, + An' shoulden get a better lot + If I had all my will. + + My orcha'd's wide, my trees be young; + An' they do bear such heavy crops, + Their boughs, lik' onion-rwopes a-hung, + Be all a-trigg'd to year, wi' props. + I got some geärden groun' to dig, + A parrock, an' a cow an' pig; + I got zome cider vor to swig, + An' eäle o' malt an' hops. + + I'm landlord o' my little farm, + I'm king 'ithin my little pleäce; + I don't break laws, an' don't do harm, + An' bent a-feär'd o' noo man's feäce. + When I'm a-cover'd wi' my thatch, + Noo man do deäre to lift my latch; + Where honest han's do shut the hatch, + There fear do leäve the pleäce. + + My lofty elem trees do screen + My brown-ruf'd house, an' here below, + My geese do strut athirt the green, + An' hiss an' flap their wings o' snow; + As I do walk along a rank + Ov apple trees, or by a bank, + Or zit upon a bar or plank, + To see how things do grow. + + + + +THE FARMER'S WOLDEST D[=A]'TER. + + + No, no! I ben't a-runnčn down + The pretty maīden's o' the town, + Nor wishčn o'm noo harm; + But she that I would marry vu'st, + To sheäre my good luck or my crust, + 'S a-bred up at a farm. + In town, a maīd do zee mwore life, + An' I don't under-reäte her; + But ten to woone the sprackest wife + 'S a farmer's woldest d[=a]'ter. + + Vor she do veed, wi' tender ceäre, + The little woones, an' peärt their heäir, + An' keep em neat an' pirty; + An' keep the saucy little chaps + O' bwoys in trim wi' dreats an' slaps, + When they be wild an' dirty. + Zoo if you'd have a bus'lčn wife, + An' childern well look'd after, + The maīd to help ye all drough life + 'S a farmer's woldest d[=a]'ter. + + An' she can iorn up an' vwold + A book o' clothes wī' young or wold, + An' zalt an' roll the butter; + An' meäke brown bread, an' elder wine, + An' zalt down meat in pans o' brine, + An' do what you can put her. + Zoo if you've wherewi', an' would vind + A wife wo'th lookčn [=a]'ter, + Goo an' get a farmer in the mind + To gi'e ye his woldest d[=a]'ter. + + Her heart's so innocent an' kind, + She idden thoughtless, but do mind + Her mother an' her duty; + An' livčn blushes, that do spread + Upon her healthy feäce o' red, + Do heighten all her beauty; + So quick's a bird, so neat's a cat, + So cheerful in her neätur, + The best o' maīdens to come at + 'S a farmer's woldest d[=a]'ter. + + + + +UNCLE OUT O' DEBT AN' OUT O' DANGER. + + + Ees; uncle had thik small hwomestead, + The leäzes an' the bits o' mead, + Besides the orcha'd in his prime, + An' copse-wood vor the winter time. + His wold black meäre, that draw'd his cart, + An' he, wer seldom long apeärt; + Vor he work'd hard an' paīd his woy, + An' zung so litsom as a bwoy, + As he toss'd an' work'd, + An' blow'd an' quirk'd, + "I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger, + An' I can feäce a friend or stranger; + I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peäir + Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meäre." + + His meäre's long vlexy vetlocks grow'd + Down roun' her hoofs so black an' brode; + Her head hung low, her taīl reach'd down + A-bobbčn nearly to the groun'. + The cwoat that uncle mwostly wore + Wer long behind an' straīght avore, + + An' in his shoes he had girt buckles, + An' breeches button'd round his huckles; + An' he zung wi' pride, + By's wold meäre's zide, + "I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger, + An' I can feäce a friend or stranger; + I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peäir + Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare." + + An' he would work,--an' lwoad, an' shoot, + An' spur his heaps o' dung or zoot; + Or car out ha˙, to sar his vew + Milch cows in corners dry an' lew; + Or dreve a zyve, or work a pick, + To pitch or meäke his little rick; + Or thatch en up wi' straw or zedge, + Or stop a shard, or gap, in hedge; + An' he work'd an' flung + His eärms, an' zung + "I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger, + An' I can feäce a friend or stranger; + I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peäir + Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare." + + An' when his meäre an' he'd a-done + Their work, an' tired ev'ry bwone, + He zot avore the vire, to spend + His evenčn wi' his wife or friend; + An' wi' his lags out-stratch'd vor rest, + An' woone hand in his wes'coat breast, + While burnčn sticks did hiss an' crack, + An' fleämes did bleäzy up the back, + There he zung so proud + In a bakky cloud, + "I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger, + An' I can feäce a friend or stranger; + I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peäir + Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare." + + From market how he used to ride, + Wi' pot's a-bumpčn by his zide + Wi' things a-bought--but not vor trust, + Vor what he had he paīd vor vu'st; + An' when he trotted up the yard, + The calves did bleäry to be sar'd, + An' pigs did scoat all drough the muck, + An' geese did hiss, an' hens did cluck; + An' he zung aloud, + So pleased an' proud, + "I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger, + An' I can feäce a friend or stranger; + I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peäir + Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare." + + When he wer joggčn hwome woone night + Vrom market, after candle-light, + (He mid a-took a drop o' beer, + Or midden, vor he had noo fear,) + Zome ugly, long-lagg'd, herrčn ribs, + Jump'd out an' ax'd en vor his dibs; + But he soon gi'ed en such a mawlčn, + That there he left en down a-sprawlčn, + While he jogg'd along + Wi' his own wold zong, + "I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger, + An' I can feäce a friend or stranger; + I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peäir + Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare." + + + + +THE CHURCH AN' HAPPY ZUNDAY. + + + Ah! ev'ry day mid bring a while + O' eäse vrom all woone's ceäre an' tweil, + The welcome evenčn, when 'tis sweet + Vor tired friends wi' weary veet, + But litsome hearts o' love, to meet; + An' yet while weekly times do roll, + The best vor body an' vor soul + 'S the church an' happy Zunday. + + Vor then our loosen'd souls do rise + Wi' holy thoughts beyond the skies, + As we do think o' _Him_ that shed + His blood vor us, an' still do spread + His love upon the live an' dead; + An' how He gi'ed a time an' pleäce + To gather us, an' gi'e us greäce,-- + The church an' happy Zunday. + + There, under leänen mossy stwones, + Do lie, vorgot, our fathers' bwones, + That trod this groun' vor years agoo, + When things that now be wold wer new; + An' comely maīdens, mild an' true, + That meäde their sweet-hearts happy brides, + An' come to kneel down at their zides + At church o' happy Zundays. + + 'Tis good to zee woone's naīghbours come + Out drough the churchyard, vlockčn hwome, + As woone do nod, an' woone do smile, + An' woone do toss another's chile; + An' zome be sheäken han's, the while + Poll's uncle, chuckčn her below + Her chin, do tell her she do grow, + At church o' happy Zundays. + + Zoo while our blood do run in vaīns + O' livčn souls in theäsum plaīns, + Mid happy housen smoky round + The church an' holy bit o' ground; + An' while their weddčn bells do sound, + Oh! mid em have the meäns o' greäce, + The holy day an' holy pleäce, + The church an' happy Zunday. + + + + +THE WOLD WAGGON. + + + The girt wold waggon uncle had, + When I wer up a hardish lad, + Did stand, a-screen'd vrom het an' wet, + In zummer at the barken geäte, + Below the elems' spreädčn boughs, + A-rubb'd by all the pigs an' cows. + An' I've a-clom his head an' zides, + A-riggčn up or jumpčn down + A-pla˙čn, or in happy rides + Along the leäne or drough the groun', + An' many souls be in their greäves, + That rod' together on his reäves; + An' he, an' all the hosses too, + 'V a-ben a-done vor years agoo. + + Upon his head an' taīl wer pinks, + A-paīnted all in tangled links; + His two long zides wer blue,--his bed + Bent slightly upward at the head; + His reäves rose upward in a bow + Above the slow hind-wheels below. + Vour hosses wer a-kept to pull + The girt wold waggon when 'twer vull; + The black meäre _Smiler_, strong enough + To pull a house down by herzuf, + + So big, as took my widest strides + To straddle halfway down her zides; + An' champčn _Vi'let_, sprack an' light, + That foam'd an' pull'd wi' all her might: + An' _Whitevoot_, leäzy in the treäce, + Wi' cunnčn looks an' show-white feäce; + Bezides a ba˙ woone, short-taīl _Jack_, + That wer a treäce-hoss or a hack. + + How many lwoads o' vuzz, to scald + The milk, thik waggon have a-haul'd! + An' wood vrom copse, an' poles vor raīls. + An' bayčns wi' their bushy taīls; + An' loose-ear'd barley, hangčn down + Outzide the wheels a'mķst to groun', + An' lwoads o' ha˙ so sweet an' dry, + A-builded straīght, an' long, an' high; + An' ha˙-meäkers, a-zittčn roun' + The reäves, a-ridčn hwome vrom groun', + When Jim gi'ed Jenny's lips a-smack, + An' jealous Dicky whipp'd his back, + An' maīdens scream'd to veel the thumps + A-gi'ed by trenches an' by humps. + But he, an' all his hosses too, + 'V a-ben a-done vor years agoo. + + + + +THE DRČVEN O' THE COMMON.[B] + + + In the common by our hwome + There wer freely-open room, + Vor our litty veet to roam + By the vuzzen out in bloom. + That wi' prickles kept our lags + Vrom the skylark's nest ov aggs; + While the peewit wheel'd around + Wi' his cry up over head, + Or he sped, though a-limpčn, o'er the ground. + + There we heärd the whickr'čn meäre + Wi' her vaīce a-quiv'rčn high; + Where the cow did loudly bleäre + By the donkey's vallčn cry. + While a-stoopčn man did zwing + His bright hook at vuzz or ling + Free o' fear, wi' wellglov'd hands, + O' the prickly vuzz he vell'd, + Then sweet-smell'd as it died in faggot bands. + + When the ha˙ward drove the stock + In a herd to zome oone pleäce, + Thither vo'k begun to vlock, + Each to own his beästes feäce. + While the geese, bezide the stream, + Zent vrom gapčn bills a scream, + An' the cattle then avound, + Without right o' greäzen there, + Went to bleäre bra˙ or whicker in the pound. + +[Footnote B: The Driving of the Common was by the _Hayward_ who, +whenever he thought fit, would drive all the cattle into a corner and +impound all heads belonging to owners without a right of commonage for +them, so that they had to ransom them by a fine.] + + + + +THE COMMON A-TOOK IN. + + + Oh! no, Poll, no! Since they've a-took + The common in, our lew wold nook + Don't seem a-bit as used to look + When we had runnčn room; + Girt banks do shut up ev'ry drong, + An' stratch wi' thorny backs along + Where we did use to run among + The vuzzen an' the broom. + + Ees; while the ragged colts did crop + The nibbled grass, I used to hop + The emmet-buts, vrom top to top, + So proud o' my spry jumps: + Wi' thee behind or at my zide, + A-skippčn on so light an' wide + 'S thy little frock would let thee stride, + Among the vuzzy humps. + + Ah while the lark up over head + Did twitter, I did search the red + Thick bunch o' broom, or yollow bed + O' vuzzen vor a nest; + An' thou di'st hunt about, to meet + Wi' strawberries so red an' sweet, + Or clogs or shoes off hosses veet, + Or wild thyme vor thy breast; + + Or when the cows did run about + A-stung, in zummer, by the stout, + Or when they pla˙'d, or when they foüght, + Di'st stand a-lookčn on: + An' where white geese, wi' long red bills, + Did veed among the emmet-hills, + There we did goo to vind their quills + Alongzide o' the pon'. + + What fun there wer among us, when + The ha˙ward come, wi' all his men, + To drčve the common, an' to pen + Strange cattle in the pound; + The cows did bleäre, the men did shout + An' toss their eärms an' sticks about, + An' vo'ks, to own their stock, come out + Vrom all the housen round. + + + + +A WOLD FRIEND. + + + Oh! when the friends we us'd to know, + 'V a-been a-lost vor years; an' when + Zome happy day do come, to show + Their feäzen to our eyes ageän, + Do meäke us look behind, John, + Do bring wold times to mind, John, + Do meäke hearts veel, if they be steel, + All warm, an' soft, an' kind, John. + + When we do lose, still ga˙ an' young, + A vaīce that us'd to call woone's neäme, + An' after years ageän his tongue + Do sound upon our ears the seäme, + Do kindle love anew, John, + Do wet woone's eyes wi' dew, John, + As we do sheäke, vor friendship's seäke, + His vist an' vind en true, John. + + What tender thoughts do touch woone's soul, + When we do zee a meäd or hill + Where we did work, or pla˙, or stroll, + An' talk wi' vaīces that be still; + 'Tis touchčn vor to treäce, John, + Wold times drough ev'ry pleäce, John; + But that can't touch woone's heart so much, + As zome wold long-lost feäce, John. + + + + +THE RWOSE THAT DECK'D HER BREAST. + + + Poor Jenny wer her Robert's bride + Two happy years, an' then he died; + An' zoo the wold vo'k meäde her come, + Vorseäken, to her maīden hwome. + But Jenny's merry tongue wer dum'; + An' round her comely neck she wore + A murnčn kerchif, where avore + The rwose did deck her breast. + + She walk'd alwone, wi' eye-balls wet, + To zee the flow'rs that she'd a-zet; + The lilies, white's her maīden frocks, + The spike, to put 'ithin her box, + Wi' columbines an' hollyhocks; + The jilliflow'r an' noddčn pink, + An' rwose that touch'd her soul to think + Ov woone that deck'd her breast. + + Vor at her weddčn, just avore + Her maīden hand had yet a-wore + A wife's goold ring, wi' hangčn head + She walk'd along thik flower-bed, + Where stocks did grow, a-staīned wi' red, + An' meärygoolds did skirt the walk, + An' gather'd vrom the rwose's stalk + A bud to deck her breast. + + An' then her cheäk, wi' youthvul blood + Wer bloomčn as the rwoses bud; + But now, as she wi' grief do pine, + 'Tis peäle's the milk-white jessamine. + But Robert have a-left behine + A little beäby wi' his feäce, + To smile, an' nessle in the pleäce + Where the rwose did deck her breast. + + + + +NANNY'S COW. + + + Ov all the cows, among the rest + Wer woone that Nanny lik'd the best; + An' after milkčn us'd to stan' + A-veedčn o' her, vrom her han', + Wi' grass or ha˙; an' she know'd Ann, + An' in the evenčn she did come + The vu'st, a-beätčn üp roun' hwome + Vor Ann to come an' milk her. + + Her back wer hollor as a bow, + Her lags wer short, her body low; + Her head wer small, her horns turn'd in + Avore Her feäce so sharp's a pin: + Her eyes wer vull, her ears wer thin, + An' she wer red vrom head to taīl, + An' didden start nor kick the paīl, + When Nanny zot to milk her. + + But losses zoon begun to vall + On Nanny's fāther, that wi' all + His tweil he voun', wi' breakčn heart, + That he mus' leäve his ground, an' peärt + Wi' all his beäst an' hoss an' cart; + An', what did touch en mwost, to zell + The red cow Nanny lik'd so well, + An' lik'd vor her to milk her. + + Zalt tears did run vrom Nanny's eyes, + To hear her restless father's sighs. + But as vor me, she mid be sure + I wont vorzeäke her now she's poor, + Vor I do love her mwore an' mwore; + An' if I can but get a cow + An' parrock, I'll vulvil my vow, + An' she shall come an' milk her. + + + + +THE SHEP'ERD BWOY. + + + When the warm zummer breeze do blow over the hill, + An' the vlock's a-spread over the ground; + When the vaīce o' the busy wold sheep dog is still, + An' the sheep-bells do tinkle all round; + Where noo tree vor a sheäde but the thorn is a-vound, + There, a zingčn a zong, + Or a-whislčn among + The sheep, the young shep'erd do bide all day long. + + When the storm do come up wi' a thundery cloud + That do shut out the zunlight, an' high + Over head the wild thunder do rumble so loud, + An' the lightnčn do flash vrom the sky, + Where noo shelter's a-vound but his hut, that is nigh, + There out ov all harm, + In the dry an' the warm, + The poor little shep'erd do smile at the storm. + + When the cwold winter win' do blow over the hill, + An' the hore-vrost do whiten the grass, + An' the breath o' the no'th is so cwold, as to chill + The warm blood ov woone's heart as do pass; + When the ice o' the pond is so slipp'ry as glass, + There, a-zingčn a zong, + Or a-whislčn among + The sheep, the poor shep'erd do bide all day long. + + When the shearčn's a-come, an' the shearers do pull + In the sheep, hangčn back a-gwaīn in, + Wi' their roun' zides a-heavčn in under their wool, + To come out all a-clipp'd to the skin; + When the feästčn, an' zingčn, an fun do begin, + Vor to help em, an' sheäre + All their me'th an' good feäre, + The poor little shep'erd is sure to be there. + + + + +HOPE A-LEFT BEHIND. + + + Don't try to win a maīden's heart, + To leäve her in her love,--'tis wrong: + 'Tis bitter to her soul to peärt + Wi' woone that is her sweetheart long. + A maīd's vu'st love is always strong; + An' if do faīl, she'll linger on, + Wi' all her best o' pleasure gone, + An' hope a-left behind her. + + Thy poor lost Jenny wer a-grow'd + So kind an' thoughtvul vor her years, + When she did meet wi' vo'k a-know'd + The best, her love did speak in tears. + She walk'd wi' thee, an' had noo fears + O' thy unkindness, till she zeed + Herzelf a-cast off lik' a weed, + An' hope a-left behind her. + + Thy slight turn'd peäle her cherry lip; + Her sorrow, not a-zeed by eyes, + Wer lik' the mildew, that do nip + A bud by darksome midnight skies. + The day mid come, the zun mid rise, + But there's noo hope o' day nor zun; + The storm ha' blow'd, the harm's a-done, + An' hope's a-left behind her. + + The time will come when thou wouldst gi'e + The worold vor to have her smile, + Or meet her by the parrock tree, + Or catch her jumpčn off the stile; + Thy life's avore thee vor a while, + But thou wilt turn thy mind in time, + An' zee the dečd as 'tis,--a crime, + An' hope a-left behind thee. + + Zoo never win a maīden's heart, + But her's that is to be thy bride, + An' pla˙ drough life a manly peärt, + An' if she's true when time ha' tried + Her mind, then teäke her by thy zide. + True love will meäke thy hardships light, + True love will meäke the worold bright, + When hope's a-left behind thee. + + + + +A GOOD FATHER. + + + No; mind thy father. When his tongue + Is keen, he's still thy friend, John, + Vor wolder vo'k should warn the young + How wickedness will end, John; + An' he do know a wicked youth + Would be thy manhood's beäne, + An' zoo would bring thee back ageän + 'Ithin the ways o' truth. + + An' mind en still when in the end + His leäbour's all a-done, John, + An' let en vind a steadvast friend + In thee his thoughtvul son, John; + Vor he did win what thou didst lack + Avore couldst work or stand, + An' zoo, when time do num' his hand, + Then pay his leäbour back. + + An' when his bwones be in the dust, + Then honour still his neäme, John; + An' as his godly soul wer just, + Let thine be voun' the seäme, John. + Be true, as he wer true, to men, + An' love the laws o' God; + Still tread the road that he've a-trod, + An' live wi' him ageän. + + + + +THE BEAM IN GRENLEY CHURCH. + + + In church at Grenley woone mid zee + A beam vrom wall to wall; a tree + That's longer than the church is wide, + An' zoo woone end o'n's drough outside,-- + Not cut off short, but bound all round + Wi' lead, to keep en seäfe an' sound. + + Back when the builders vu'st begun + The church,--as still the teäle do run,-- + A man work'd wi' em; no man knew + Who 'twer, nor whither he did goo. + He wer as harmless as a chile, + An' work'd 'ithout a frown or smile, + Till any woaths or strife did rise + To overcast his sparklčn eyes: + + An' then he'd call their minds vrom strife, + To think upon another life. + He wer so strong, that all alwone + He lifted beams an' blocks o' stwone, + That others, with the girtest paīns, + Could hardly wag wi' bars an' chaīns; + An' yet he never used to sta˙ + O' Zaturdays, to teäke his pa˙. + + Woone day the men wer out o' heart, + To have a beam a-cut too short; + An' in the evenčn, when they shut + Off work, they left en where 'twer put; + An' while dumb night went softly by + Towárds the vi'ry western sky, + A-lullčn birds, an' shuttčn up + The deäisy an' the butter cup, + They went to lay their heavy heads + An' weary bwones upon their beds. + + An' when the dewy mornčn broke, + An' show'd the worold, fresh awoke, + Their godly work ageän, they vound + The beam they left upon the ground + A-put in pleäce, where still do bide, + An' long enough to reach outzide. + But he unknown to tother men + Wer never there at work ageän: + Zoo whether he mid be a man + Or angel, wi' a helpčn han', + Or whether all o't wer a dream, + They didden deäre to cut the beam. + + + + +THE VAĪCES THAT BE GONE. + + + When evenčn sheädes o' trees do hide + A body by the hedge's zide, + An' twitt'rčn birds, wi' pla˙some flight, + Do vlee to roost at comčn night, + Then I do saunter out o' zight + In orcha'd, where the pleäce woonce rung + Wi' laughs a-laugh'd an' zongs a-zung + By vaīces that be gone. + + There's still the tree that bore our swing, + An' others where the birds did zing; + But long-leav'd docks do overgrow + The groun' we trampled heäre below, + Wi' merry skippčns to an' fro + Bezide the banks, where Jim did zit + A-pla˙čn o' the clarinit + To vaīces that be gone. + + How mother, when we us'd to stun + Her head wi' all our naīsy fun, + Did wish us all a-gone vrom hwome: + An' now that zome be dead, an' zome + A-gone, an' all the pleäce is dum', + How she do wish, wi' useless tears, + To have ageän about her ears + The vaīces that be gone. + + Vor all the maīdens an' the bwoys + But I, be marri'd off all woys, + Or dead an' gone; but I do bide + At hwome, alwone, at mother's zide, + An' often, at the evenčn-tide, + I still do saunter out, wi' tears, + Down drough the orcha'd, where my ears + Do miss the vaīces gone. + + + + +POLL. + + + When out below the trees, that drow'd + Their scraggy lim's athirt the road, + While evenčn zuns, a'mķst a-zet, + Gi'ed goolden light, but little het, + The merry chaps an' maīdens met, + An' look'd to zomebody to neäme + Their bit o' fun, a dance or geäme, + 'Twer Poll they cluster'd round. + + An' after they'd a-had enough + O' snappčn tongs, or blind-man's buff, + O' winter nights, an' went an' stood + Avore the vire o' bleäzen wood, + Though there wer maīdens kind an' good, + Though there wer maīdens feäir an' tall, + 'Twer Poll that wer the queen o'm all, + An' Poll they cluster'd round. + + An' when the childern used to catch + A glimpse o' Poll avore the hatch, + The little things did run to meet + Their friend wi' skippčn tott'rčn veet + An' thought noo other kiss so sweet + As hers; an' nwone could vind em out + Such geämes to meäke em jump an' shout, + As Poll they cluster'd round. + + An' now, since she've a-left em, all + The pleäce do miss her, girt an' small. + In vaīn vor them the zun do sheen + Upon the lwonesome rwoad an' green; + Their zwing do hang vorgot between + The leänen trees, vor they've a-lost + The best o' maīdens, to their cost, + The maīd they cluster'd round. + + + + +LOOKS A-KNOW'D AVORE. + + + While zome, a-gwaīn from pleäce to pleäce, + Do daily meet wi' zome new feäce, + When my day's work is at an end, + Let me zit down at hwome, an' spend + A happy hour wi' zome wold friend, + An' by my own vire-zide rejaīce + In zome wold naīghbour's welcome vaīce, + An' looks I know'd avore, John. + + Why is it, friends that we've a-met + By zuns that now ha' long a-zet, + Or winter vires that bleäzed for wold + An' young vo'k, now vor ever cwold, + Be met wi' ja˙ that can't be twold? + Why, 'tis because they friends have all + Our youthvul spring ha' left our fall,-- + The looks we know'd avore, John. + + 'Tis lively at a feäir, among + The chattčn, laughčn, shiften drong, + When wold an' young, an' high an' low, + Do streamy round, an' to an' fro; + But what new feäce that we don't know, + Can ever meäke woone's warm heart dance + Among ten thousan', lik' a glance + O' looks we know'd avore, John. + + How of'en have the wind a-shook + The leaves off into yonder brook, + Since vu'st we two, in youthvul strolls, + Did ramble roun' them bubblčn shoals! + An' oh! that zome o' them young souls, + That we, in ja˙, did pla˙ wi' then + Could come back now, an' bring ageän + The looks we know'd avore, John. + + So soon's the barley's dead an' down, + The clover-leaf do rise vrom groun', + An' wolder feäzen do but goo + To be a-vollow'd still by new; + But souls that be a-tried an' true + Shall meet ageän beyond the skies, + An' bring to woone another's eyes + The looks they know'd avore, John. + + + + +THE MUSIC O' THE DEAD. + + + When music, in a heart that's true, + Do kindle up wold loves anew, + An' dim wet eyes, in feäirest lights, + Do zee but inward fancy's zights; + When creepčn years, wi' with'rčn blights, + 'V a-took off them that wer so dear, + How touchčn 'tis if we do hear + The tučns o' the dead, John. + + When I, a-stannčn in the lew + O' trees a storm's a-beätčn drough, + Do zee the slantčn mist a-drove + By spitevul winds along the grove, + An' hear their hollow sounds above + My shelter'd head, do seem, as I + Do think o' zunny days gone by. + Lik' music vor the dead, John. + + Last night, as I wer gwaīn along + The brook, I heärd the milk-maīd's zong + A-ringčn out so clear an' shrill + Along the meäds an' roun' the hill. + I catch'd the tučn, an' stood still + To hear 't; 'twer woone that Jeäne did zing + A-vield a-milkčn in the spring,-- + Sweet music o' the dead, John. + + Don't tell o' zongs that be a-zung + By young chaps now, wi' sheämeless tongue: + Zing me wold ditties, that would start + The maīden's tears, or stir my heart + To teäke in life a manly peärt,-- + The wold vo'k's zongs that twold a teäle, + An' vollow'd round their mugs o' eäle, + The music o' the dead, John. + + + + +THE PLEÄCE A TEÄLE'S A-TWOLD O'. + + Why tidden vields an' runnčn brooks, + Nor trees in Spring or fall; + An' tidden woody slopes an' nooks, + Do touch us mwost ov all; + An' tidden ivy that do cling + By housen big an' wold, O, + But this is, after all, the thing,-- + The pleäce a teäle's a-twold o'. + + At Burn, where mother's young friends know'd + The vu'st her maīden neäme, + The zunny knaps, the narrow road + An' green, be still the seäme; + The squier's house, an' ev'ry ground + That now his son ha' zwold, O, + An' ev'ry wood he hunted round + 'S a pleäce a teäle's a-twold o'. + + The maīd a-lov'd to our heart's core, + The dearest of our kin, + Do meäke us like the very door + Where they went out an' in. + 'Tis zome'hat touchčn that bevel + Poor flesh an' blood o' wold, O, + Do meäke us like to zee so well + The pleäce a teäle's a-twold o'. + + When blushčn Jenny vu'st did come + To zee our Poll o' nights, + An' had to goo back leätish hwome, + Where vo'k did zee the zights, + A-chattčn loud below the sky + So dark, an' winds so cwold, O, + How proud wer I to zee her by + The pleäce the teäle's a-twold o'. + + Zoo whether 'tis the humpy ground + That wer a battle viel', + Or mossy house, all ivy-bound, + An' vallčn down piece-meal; + Or if 'tis but a scraggy tree, + Where beauty smil'd o' wold, O, + How dearly I do like to zee + The pleäce a teäle's a-twold o'. + + + + +AUNT'S TANTRUMS. + + + Why ees, aunt Anne's a little staīd, + But kind an' merry, poor wold maīd! + If we don't cut her heart wi' slights, + She'll zit an' put our things to rights, + Upon a hard day's work, o' nights; + But zet her up, she's jis' lik' vier, + An' woe betide the woone that's nigh 'er. + When she is in her tantrums. + + She'll toss her head, a-steppčn out + Such strides, an' fling the paīls about; + An' slam the doors as she do goo, + An' kick the cat out wi' her shoe, + Enough to het her off in two. + The bwoys do bundle out o' house, + A-lassen they should get a towse, + When aunt is in her tantrums. + + She whurr'd, woone day, the wooden bowl + In such a veag at my poor poll; + It brush'd the heäir above my crown, + An' whizz'd on down upon the groun', + An' knock'd the bantam cock right down, + But up he sprung, a-teäkčn flight + Wi' tothers, cluckčn in a fright, + Vrom aunt in such a tantrum! + + But Dick stole in, an' reach'd en down + The biggest blather to be voun', + An' crope an' put en out o' zight + Avore the vire, an' plimm'd en tight + An crack'd en wi' the slice thereright + She scream'd, an' bundled out o' house, + An' got so quiet as a mouse,-- + It frighten'd off her tantrum. + + + + +THE STWONČN PWORCH. + + + A new house! Ees, indeed! a small + Straīght, upstart thing, that, after all, + Do teäke in only half the groun' + The wold woone did avore 'twer down; + Wi' little windows straīght an' flat, + Not big enough to zun a-cat, + An' dealčn door a-meäde so thin, + A puff o' wind would blow en in, + Where woone do vind a thing to knock + So small's the hammer ov a clock, + That wull but meäke a little click + About so loud's a clock do tick! + Gi'e me the wold house, wi' the wide + An' lofty-lo'ted rooms inside; + An' wi' the stwončn pworch avore + The naīl-bestudded woaken door, + That had a knocker very little + Less to handle than a bittle, + That het a blow that vled so loud + Drough house as thunder drough a cloud. + An' meäde the dog behind the door + Growl out so deep's a bull do roar. + + In all the house, o' young an' wold, + There werden woone but could a-twold + When he'd noo wish to seek abrode + Mwore ja˙ than thik wold pworch bestow'd! + For there, when yollow evenčn shed + His light ageän the elem's head, + An' gnots did whiver in the zun, + An' uncle's work wer all a-done, + His whiffs o' meltčn smoke did roll + Above his bendčn pipe's white bowl, + While he did chat, or, zittčn dumb, + Inja˙ his thoughts as they did come. + + An' Jimmy, wi' his crowd below + His chin, did dreve his nimble bow + In tučns vor to meäke us spring + A-reelčn, or in zongs to zing, + An' there, between the dark an' light, + Zot Poll by Willy's zide at night + A-whisp'rčn, while her eyes did zwim + In ja˙ avore the twilight dim; + An' when (to know if she wer near) + Aunt call'd, did cry, "Ees, mother; here." + + No, no; I woulden gi'e thee thanks + Vor fine white walls an' vloors o' planks, + Nor doors a-päinted up so fine. + If I'd a wold grey house o' mine, + Gi'e me vor all it should be small, + A stwončn pworch instead [=o]'t all. + + + + +FARMER'S SONS. + + + Ov all the chaps a-burnt so brown + By zunny hills an' hollors, + Ov all the whindlčn chaps in town + Wi' backs so weak as rollers, + There's narn that's half so light o' heart, + (I'll bet, if thou't zay "done," min,) + An' narn that's half so strong an' smart, + 'S a merry farmer's son, min. + + He'll fling a stwone so true's a shot, + He'll jump so light's a cat; + He'll heave a waīght up that would squot + A weakly fellow flat. + He wont gi'e up when things don't fa˙, + But turn em into fun, min; + An' what's hard work to zome, is pla˙ + Avore a farmer's son, min. + + His bwony eärm an' knuckly vist + ('Tis best to meäke a friend o't) + Would het a fellow, that's a-miss'd, + Half backward wi' the wind o't. + Wi' such a chap at hand, a maīd + Would never goo a nun, min; + She'd have noo call to be afraīd + Bezide a farmer's son, min. + + He'll turn a vurrow, drough his langth, + So straīght as eyes can look, + Or pitch all day, wi' half his strangth, + At ev'ry pitch a pook; + An' then goo vower mile, or vive, + To vind his friends in fun, min, + Vor maīden's be but dead alive + 'Ithout a farmer's son, min. + + Zoo ja˙ be in his heart so light, + An' manly feäce so brown; + An' health goo wi' en hwome at night, + Vrom meäd, or wood, or down. + O' rich an' poor, o' high an' low, + When all's a-said an' done, min, + The smartest chap that I do know, + 'S a workčn farmer's son, min. + + + + +JEÄNE. + + + We now mid hope vor better cheer, + My smilčn wife o' twice vive year. + Let others frown, if thou bist near + Wi' hope upon thy brow, Jeäne; + Vor I vu'st lov'd thee when thy light + Young sheäpe vu'st grew to woman's height; + I loved thee near, an' out o' zight, + An' I do love thee now, Jeäne. + + An' we've a-trod the sheenčn bleäde + Ov eegrass in the zummer sheäde, + An' when the leäves begun to feäde + Wi' zummer in the weäne, Jeäne; + An' we've a-wander'd drough the groun' + O' swayčn wheat a-turnčn brown, + An' we've a-stroll'd together roun' + The brook an' drough the leäne, Jeane. + + An' nwone but I can ever tell + Ov all thy tears that have a-vell + When trials meäde thy bosom zwell, + An' nwone but thou o' mine, Jeäne; + An' now my heart, that heav'd wi' pride + Back then to have thee at my zide, + Do love thee mwore as years do slide, + An' leäve them times behine, Jeäne. + + + + +THE DREE WOAKS. + + + By the brow o' thik hangčn I spent all my youth, + In the house that did peep out between + The dree woaks, that in winter avworded their lewth, + An' in zummer their sheäde to the green; + An' there, as in zummer we play'd at our geämes, + We [=e]ach own'd a tree, + Vor we wer but dree, + An' zoo the dree woaks wer a-call'd by our neämes. + + An' two did grow scraggy out over the road, + An' they wer call'd Jimmy's an' mine; + An' tother wer Jeännet's, much kindlier grow'd, + Wi' a knotless an' white ribbčd rine. + An' there, o' fine nights avore gwäin in to rest, + We did dance, vull o' life, + To the sound o' the fife, + Or pla˙ at some geäme that poor Jeännet lik'd best. + + Zoo happy wer we by the woaks o' the green, + Till we lost sister Jeännet, our pride; + Vor when she wer come to her last blushčn _teen_, + She suddenly zicken'd an' died. + An' avore the green leaves in the fall wer gone by, + The lightnčn struck dead + Her woaken tree's head, + An' left en a-stripp'd to the wintery sky. + + But woone ov his eäcorns, a-zet in the Fall, + Come up the Spring after, below + The trees at her head-stwone 'ithin the church-wall, + An' mother, to see how did grow, + Shed a tear; an' when father an' she wer bwoth dead, + There they wer laid deep, + Wi' their Jeännet, to sleep, + Wi' her at his zide, an' her tree at her head. + + An' vo'k do still call the wold house the dree woaks, + Vor thik is a-reckon'd that's down, + As mother, a-neämčn her childern to vo'ks, + Meäde dree when but two wer a-voun'; + An' zaid that hereafter she knew she should zee + Why God, that's above, + Vound fit in his love + To strike wi' his han' the poor maīd an' her tree. + + + + +THE HWOMESTEAD A-VELL INTO HAND. + + + The house where I wer born an' bred, + Did own his woaken door, John, + When vu'st he shelter'd father's head, + An' gramfer's long avore, John. + An' many a ramblčn happy chile, + An' chap so strong an' bwold, + An' bloomčn maīd wi' pla˙some smile, + Did call their hwome o' wold + Thik ruf so warm, + A kept vrom harm + By elem trees that broke the storm. + + An' in the orcha'd out behind, + The apple-trees in row, John, + Did swa˙ wi' moss about their rind + Their heads a-noddčn low, John. + An' there, bezide zome groun' vor corn, + Two strips did skirt the road; + In woone the cow did toss her horn, + While tother wer a-mow'd, + In June, below + The lofty row + Ov trees that in the hedge did grow. + + A-workčn in our little patch + O' parrock, rathe or leäte, John, + We little ho'd how vur mid stratch + The squier's wide esteäte, John. + Our hearts, so honest an' so true, + Had little vor to fear; + Vor we could pay up all their due + An' gi'e a friend good cheer + At hwome, below + The lofty row + O' trees a-swa˙čn to an' fro. + + An' there in het, an' there in wet, + We tweil'd wi' busy hands, John; + Vor ev'ry stroke o' work we het, + Did better our own lands, John. + But after me, ov all my kin, + Not woone can hold em on; + Vor we can't get a life put in + Vor mine, when I'm a-gone + Vrom thik wold brown + Thatch ruf, a-boun' + By elem trees a-growčn roun'. + + Ov eight good hwomes, where, I can mind + Vo'k liv'd upon their land, John, + But dree be now a-left behind; + The rest ha' vell in hand, John, + An' all the happy souls they ved + Be scatter'd vur an' wide. + An' zome o'm be a-wantčn bread, + Zome, better off, ha' died, + Noo mwore to ho, + Vor homes below + The trees a-swa˙en to an' fro. + + An' I could leäd ye now all round + The parish, if I would, John, + An' show ye still the very ground + Where vive good housen stood, John + In broken orcha'ds near the spot, + A vew wold trees do stand; + But dew do vall where vo'k woonce zot + About the burnčn brand + In housen warm, + A-kept vrom harm + By elems that did break the storm. + + + + +THE GUIDE POST. + + + Why thik wold post so long kept out, + Upon the knap, his eärms astrout, + A-zendčn on the weary veet + By where the dree cross roads do meet; + An' I've a-come so much thik woy, + Wi' happy heart, a man or bwoy, + That I'd a-meäde, at last, a'mķst + A friend o' thik wold guidčn post. + + An' there, wi' woone white eärm he show'd, + Down over bridge, the Leyton road; + Wi' woone, the leäne a-leädčn roun' + By Bradlinch Hill, an' on to town; + An' wi' the last, the way to turn + Drough common down to Rushiburn,-- + The road I lik'd to goo the mwost + Ov all upon the guidčn post. + + The Leyton road ha' lofty ranks + Ov elem trees upon his banks; + The woone athirt the hill do show + Us miles o' hedgy meäds below; + An' he to Rushiburn is wide + Wi' strips o' green along his zide, + An' ouer brown-ruf'd house a-mķst + In zight o' thik wold guidčn post. + + An' when the ha˙-meäkers did zwarm + O' zummer evenčns out vrom farm. + The merry maīdens an' the chaps, + A-peärtčn there wi' jokes an' slaps, + Did goo, zome woone way off, an' zome + Another, all a-zingčn hwome; + Vor vew o'm had to goo, at mwost, + A mile beyond the guidčn post. + + Poor Nanny Brown, woone darkish night, + When he'd a-been a-paīnted white, + Wer frighten'd, near the gravel pits, + So dead's a hammer into fits, + A-thinkčn 'twer the ghost she know'd + Did come an' haunt the Leyton road; + Though, after all, poor Nanny's ghost + Turn'd out to be the guidčn post. + + + + +GWAIN TO FEÄIR. + + + To morrow stir so brisk's you can, + An' get your work up under han'; + Vor I an' Jim, an' Poll's young man, + Shall goo to feäir; an' zoo, + If you wull let us gi'e ye a eärm + Along the road, or in the zwarm + O' vo'k, we'll keep ye out o' harm, + An' gi'e ye a feäirčn too. + + We won't stay leäte there, I'll be boun'; + We'll bring our sheädes off out o' town + A mile, avore the zun is down, + If he's a sheenčn clear. + Zoo when your work is all a-done, + Your mother can't but let ye run + An' zee a little o' the fun, + There's nothčn there to fear. + + + + +JEÄNE O' GRENLEY MILL. + + + When in happy times we met, + Then by look an' deed I show'd, + How my love wer all a-zet + In the smiles that she bestow'd. + She mid have, o' left an' right, + Maīdens feäirest to the zight; + I'd a-chose among em still, + Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill. + + She wer feäirer, by her cows + In her work-day frock a-drest, + Than the rest wi' scornvul brows + All a-flantčn in their best. + Ga˙ did seem, at feäst or feäir, + Zights that I had her to sheäre; + Ga˙ would be my own heart still, + But vor Jeäne o' Grenley Mill. + + Jeäne--a-checkčn ov her love-- + Leän'd to woone that, as she guess'd, + Stood in worldly wealth above + Me she know'd she lik'd the best. + He wer wild, an' soon run drough + All that he'd a-come into, + Heartlessly a-treatčn ill + Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill. + + Oh! poor Jenny! thou'st a tore + Hopčn love vrom my poor heart, + Losčn vrom thy own small store, + All the better, sweeter peärt. + Hearts a-slighted must vorseäke + Slighters, though a-doom'd to break; + I must scorn, but love thee still, + Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill. + + Oh! if ever thy soft eyes + Could ha' turn'd vrom outward show, + To a lover born to rise + When a higher woone wer low; + If thy love, when zoo a-tried, + Could ha' stood ageän thy pride, + How should I ha' lov'd thee still, + Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill. + + + + +THE BELLS OV ALDERBURNHAM. + + + While now upon the win' do zwell + The church-bells' evenčn peal, O, + Along the bottom, who can tell + How touch'd my heart do veel, O. + To hear ageän, as woonce they rung + In holidays when I wer young, + Wi' merry sound + A-ringčn round, + The bells ov Alderburnham. + + Vor when they rung their ga˙est peals + O' zome sweet day o' rest, O, + We all did ramble drough the viels, + A-dress'd in all our best, O; + An' at the bridge or roarčn weir, + Or in the wood, or in the gleäre + Ov open ground, + Did hear ring round + The bells ov Alderburnham. + + They bells, that now do ring above + The young brides at church-door, O, + Woonce rung to bless their mother's love, + When they were brides avore, O. + An' sons in tow'r do still ring on + The merry peals o' fathers gone, + Noo mwore to sound, + Or hear ring round, + The bells ov Alderburnham. + + Ov happy peäirs, how soon be zome + A-wedded an' a-peärted! + Vor woone ov ja˙, what peals mid come + To zome o's broken-hearted! + The stronger mid the sooner die, + The ga˙er mid the sooner sigh; + An' who do know + What grief's below + The bells ov Alderburnham! + + But still 'tis happiness to know + That there's a God above us; + An' he, by day an' night, do ho + Vor all ov us, an' love us, + An' call us to His house, to heal + Our hearts, by his own Zunday peal + Ov bells a-rung + Vor wold an' young, + The bells ov Alderburnham. + + + + +THE GIRT WOLD HOUSE O' MOSSY STWONE. + + + The girt wold house o' mossy stwone, + Up there upon the knap alwone, + Had woonce a bleäzčn kitchčn-vier, + That cook'd vor poor-vo'k an' a squier. + The very last ov all the reäce + That liv'd the squier o' the pleäce, + Died off when father wer a-born, + An' now his kin be all vorlorn + Vor ever,--vor he left noo son + To teäke the house o' mossy stwone. + An' zoo he vell to other hands, + An' gramfer took en wi' the lands: + An' there when he, poor man, wer dead, + My father shelter'd my young head. + An' if I wer a squier, I + Should like to spend my life, an' die + In thik wold house o' mossy stwone, + Up there upon the knap alwone. + + Don't talk ov housen all o' brick, + Wi' rockčn walls nine inches thick, + A-trigg'd together zide by zide + In streets, wi' fronts a straddle wide, + Wi' yards a-sprinkled wi' a mop, + Too little vor a vrog to hop; + But let me live an' die where I + Can zee the ground, an' trees, an' sky. + The girt wold house o' mossy stwone + Had wings vor either sheäde or zun: + Woone where the zun did glitter drough, + When vu'st he struck the mornčn dew; + Woone feäced the evenčn sky, an' woone + Push'd out a pworch to zweaty noon: + Zoo woone stood out to break the storm, + An' meäde another lew an' warm. + An' there the timber'd copse rose high, + Where birds did build an' heäres did lie, + An' beds o' grægles in the lew, + Did deck in Ma˙ the ground wi' blue. + An' there wer hills an' slopčn grounds, + That they did ride about wi' hounds; + An' drough the meäd did creep the brook + Wi' bushy bank an' rushy nook, + Where perch did lie in sheädy holes + Below the alder trees, an' shoals + O' gudgeon darted by, to hide + Theirzelves in hollows by the zide. + An' there by leänes a-windčn deep, + Wer mossy banks a-risčn steep; + An' stwončn steps, so smooth an' wide, + To stiles an' vootpaths at the zide. + An' there, so big's a little ground, + The geärden wer a-wall'd all round: + An' up upon the wall wer bars + A-sheäped all out in wheels an' stars, + Vor vo'k to walk, an' look out drough + Vrom trees o' green to hills o' blue. + An' there wer walks o' peävement, broad + Enough to meäke a carriage-road, + Where steätely leädies woonce did use + To walk wi' hoops an' high-heel shoes, + When yonder hollow woak wer sound, + Avore the walls wer ivy-bound, + Avore the elems met above + The road between em, where they drove + Their coach all up or down the road + A-comčn hwome or gwaīn abroad. + The zummer aīr o' theäse green hill + 'V a-heav'd in bosoms now all still, + An' all their hopes an' all their tears + Be unknown things ov other years. + But if, in heaven, souls be free + To come back here; or there can be + An e'thly pleäce to meäke em come + To zee it vrom a better hwome,-- + Then what's a-twold us mid be right, + That still, at dead o' tongueless night, + Their gauzy sheäpes do come an' glide + By vootways o' their youthvul pride. + + An' while the trees do stan' that grow'd + Vor them, or walls or steps they know'd + Do bide in pleäce, they'll always come + To look upon their e'thly hwome. + Zoo I would always let alwone + The girt wold house o' mossy stwone: + I woulden pull a wing o'n down, + To meäke ther speechless sheädes to frown; + Vor when our souls, mid woonce become + Lik' their's, all bodiless an' dumb, + How good to think that we mid vind + Zome thought vrom them we left behind, + An' that zome love mid still unite + The hearts o' blood wi' souls o' light. + Zoo, if 'twer mine, I'd let alwone + The girt wold house o' mossy stwone. + + + + +A WITCH. + + + There's thik wold hag, Moll Brown, look zee, jus' past! + I wish the ugly sly wold witch + Would tumble over into ditch; + I woulden pull her out not very vast. + No, no. I don't think she's a bit belied, + No, she's a witch, aye, Molly's evil-eyed. + Vor I do know o' many a-withrčn blight + A-cast on vo'k by Molly's mutter'd spite; + She did, woone time, a dreadvul deäl o' harm + To Farmer Gruff's vo'k, down at Lower Farm. + Vor there, woone day, they happened to offend her, + An' not a little to their sorrow, + Because they woulden gi'e or lend her + Zome'hat she come to bag or borrow; + An' zoo, they soon began to vind + That she'd agone an' left behind + Her evil wish that had such pow'r, + That she did meäke their milk an' eäle turn zour, + An' addle all the aggs their vowls did lay; + They coulden vetch the butter in the churn, + An' all the cheese begun to turn + All back ageän to curds an' whey; + The little pigs, a-runnčn wi' the zow, + Did zicken, zomehow, noobody know'd how, + An' vall, an' turn their snouts towárd the sky. + An' only gi'e woone little grunt, and die; + An' all the little ducks an' chickčn + Wer death-struck out in yard a-pickčn + Their bits o' food, an' vell upon their head, + An' flapp'd their little wings an' drapp'd down dead. + They coulden fat the calves, they woulden thrive; + They coulden seäve their lambs alive; + Their sheep wer all a-coath'd, or gi'ed noo wool; + The hosses vell away to skin an' bwones, + An' got so weak they coulden pull + A half a peck o' stwones: + The dog got dead-alive an' drowsy, + The cat vell zick an' woulden mousy; + An' every time the vo'k went up to bed, + They wer a-hag-rod till they wer half dead. + They us'd to keep her out o' house, 'tis true, + A-naīlčn up at door a hosses shoe; + An' I've a-heärd the farmer's wife did try + To dawk a needle or a pin + In drough her wold hard wither'd skin, + An' draw her blood, a-comčn by: + But she could never vetch a drap, + For pins would ply an' needless snap + Ageän her skin; an' that, in coo'se, + Did meäke the hag bewitch em woo'se. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +THE TIMES. + + +_John an' Tom._ + + + JOHN. + + Well, Tom, how be'st? Zoo thou'st a-got thy neäme + Among the leaguers, then, as I've a heärd. + + TOM. + + Aye, John, I have, John; an' I ben't afeärd + To own it. Why, who woulden do the seäme? + We shant goo on lik' this long, I can tell ye. + Bread is so high an' wages be so low, + That, after workčn lik' a hoss, you know, + A man can't eärn enough to vill his belly. + + JOHN. + + Ah! well! Now there, d'ye know, if I wer sure + That theäsem men would gi'e me work to do + All drough the year, an' always pay me mwore + Than I'm a-eärnčn now, I'd jein em too. + If I wer sure they'd bring down things so cheap, + That what mid buy a pound o' mutton now + Would buy the hinder quarters, or the sheep, + Or what wull buy a pig would buy a cow: + In short, if they could meäke a shillčn goo + In market just so vur as two, + Why then, d'ye know, I'd be their man; + But, hang it! I don't think they can. + + TOM. + + Why ees they can, though you don't know't, + An' theäsem men can meäke it clear. + Why vu'st they'd zend up members ev'ry year + To Parli'ment, an' ev'ry man would vote; + Vor if a fellow midden be a squier, + He mid be just so fit to vote, an' goo + To meäke the laws at Lon'on, too, + As many that do hold their noses higher. + Why shoulden fellows meäke good laws an' speeches + A-dressed in fusti'n cwoats an' cord'roy breeches? + Or why should hooks an' shovels, zives an' axes, + Keep any man vrom votčn o' the taxes? + An' when the poor've a-got a sheäre + In meäkčn laws, they'll teäke good ceäre + To meäke some good woones vor the poor. + Do stan' by reason, John; because + The men that be to meäke the laws, + Will meäke em vor theirzelves, you mid be sure. + + JOHN. + + Ees, that they wull. The men that you mid trust + To help you, Tom, would help their own zelves vu'st. + + TOM. + + Aye, aye. But we would have a better plan + O' votčn, than the woone we got. A man, + As things be now, d'ye know, can't goo an' vote + Ageän another man, but he must know't. + We'll have a box an' balls, vor votčn men + To pop their hands 'ithin, d'ye know; an' then, + If woone don't happen vor to lik' a man, + He'll drop a little black ball vrom his han', + An' zend en hwome ageän. He woon't be led + To choose a man to teäke away his bread. + + JOHN. + + But if a man you midden like to 'front, + Should chance to call upon ye, Tom, zome day, + An' ax ye vor your vote, what could ye zay? + Why if you woulden answer, or should grunt + Or bark, he'd know you'd meän "I won't." + To promise woone a vote an' not to gi'e't, + Is but to be a liar an' a cheat. + An' then, bezides, when he did count the balls, + An' vind white promises a-turn'd half black; + Why then he'd think the voters all a pack + O' rogues together,--ev'ry woone o'm false. + An' if he had the power, very soon + Perhaps he'd vall upon em, ev'ry woone. + The times be pinchčn me, so well as you, + But I can't tell what ever they can do. + + TOM. + + Why meäke the farmers gi'e their leäbourčn men + Mwore wages,--half or twice so much ageän + As what they got. + + JOHN. + + But, Thomas, you can't meäke + A man pay mwore away than he can teäke. + If you do meäke en gi'e, to till a vield, + So much ageän as what the groun' do yield, + He'll shut out farmčn--or he'll be a goose-- + An' goo an' put his money out to use. + Wages be low because the hands be plenty; + They mid be higher if the hands wer skenty. + Leäbour, the seäme's the produce o' the yield, + Do zell at market price--jist what 'till yield. + Thou wouldsten gi'e a zixpence, I do guess, + Vor zix fresh aggs, if zix did zell for less. + If theäsem vo'k could come an' meäke mwore lands, + If they could teäke wold England in their hands + An' stratch it out jist twice so big ageän, + They'd be a-dočn some'hat vor us then. + + TOM. + + But if they wer a-zent to Parli'ment + To meäke the laws, dost know, as I've a-zaid, + They'd knock the corn-laws on the head; + An' then the landlards must let down their rent, + An' we should very soon have cheaper bread: + Farmers would gi'e less money vor their lands. + + JOHN. + + Aye, zoo they mid, an' prices mid be low'r + Vor what their land would yield; an' zoo their hands + Would be jist where they wer avore. + An' if theäse men wer all to hold together, + They coulden meäke new laws to change the weather! + They ben't so mighty as to think o' frightenčn + The vrost an' raīn, the thunder an' the lightenčn! + An' as vor me, I don't know what to think + O' them there fine, big-talkčn, cunnčn, + Strange men, a-comčn down vrom Lon'on. + Why they don't stint theirzelves, but eat an' drink + The best at public-house where they do sta˙; + They don't work gratis, they do get their pa˙. + They woulden pinch theirzelves to do us good, + Nor gi'e their money vor to buy us food. + D'ye think, if we should meet em in the street + Zome day in Lon'on, they would stand a treat? + + TOM. + + They be a-paīd, because they be a-zent + By corn-law vo'k that be the poor man's friends, + To tell us all how we mid gaīn our ends, + A-zendčn peäpers up to Parli'ment. + + JOHN. + + Ah! teäke ceäre how dost trust em. Dost thou know + The funny feäble o' the pig an' crow? + Woone time a crow begun to strut an' hop + About some groun' that men'd a-been a-drillčn + Wi' barley or some wheat, in hopes o' villčn + Wi' good fresh corn his empty crop. + But lik' a thief, he didden like the paīns + O' workčn hard to get en a vew graīns; + Zoo while the sleeky rogue wer there a-huntčn, + Wi' little luck, vor corns that mid be vound + A-peckčn vor, he heärd a pig a-gruntčn + Just tother zide o' hedge, in tother ground. + "Ah!" thought the cunnčn rogue, an' gi'ed a hop, + "Ah! that's the way vor me to vill my crop; + Aye, that's the plan, if nothčn don't defeät it. + If I can get thik pig to bring his snout + In here a bit an' turn the barley out, + Why, hang it! I shall only have to eat it." + Wi' that he vled up straīght upon a woak, + An' bowčn, lik' a man at hustčns, spoke: + "My friend," zaid he, "that's poorish livčn vor ye + In thik there leäze. Why I be very zorry + To zee how they hard-hearted vo'k do sarve ye. + You can't live there. Why! do they meän to starve ye?" + "Ees," zaid the pig, a-gruntčn, "ees; + What wi' the hosses an' the geese, + There's only docks an' thissles here to chaw. + Instead o' livčn well on good warm straw, + I got to grub out here, where I can't pick + Enough to meäke me half an ounce o' flick." + "Well," zaid the crow, "d'ye know, if you'll stan' that, + You mussen think, my friend, o' gettčn fat. + D'ye want some better keep? Vor if you do, + Why, as a friend, I be a-come to tell ye, + That if you'll come an' jus' get drough + Theäse gap up here, why you mid vill your belly. + Why, they've a-been a-drillčn corn, d'ye know, + In theäse here piece o' groun' below; + An' if you'll just put in your snout, + An' run en up along a drill, + Why, hang it! you mid grub it out, + An' eat, an' eat your vill. + Their idden any fear that vo'k mid come, + Vor all the men be jist a-gone in hwome." + The pig, believčn ev'ry single word + That wer a-twold en by the cunnčn bird + Wer only vor his good, an' that 'twer true, + Just gi'ed a grunt, an' bundled drough, + An' het his nose, wi' all his might an' maīn, + Right up a drill, a-routčn up the graīn; + An' as the cunnčn crow did gi'e a caw + A-praisčn [=o]'n, oh! he did veel so proud! + An' work'd, an' blow'd, an' toss'd, an' ploughed + The while the cunnčn crow did vill his maw. + An' after workčn till his bwones + Did eäche, he soon begun to veel + That he should never get a meal, + Unless he dined on dirt an' stwones. + "Well," zaid the crow, "why don't ye eat?" + "Eat what, I wonder!" zaid the heäiry plougher. + A-brislčn up an' lookčn rather zour; + "I don't think dirt an' flints be any treat." + "Well," zaid the crow, "why you be blind. + What! don't ye zee how thick the corn do lie + Among the dirt? An' don't ye zee how I + Do pick up all that you do leäve behind? + I'm zorry that your bill should be so snubby." + "No," zaid the pig, "methinks that I do zee + My bill will do uncommon well vor thee, + Vor thine wull peck, an' mine wull grubby." + An' just wi' this a-zaid by mister Flick + To mister Crow, wold John the farmer's man + Come up, a-zwingčn in his han' + A good long knotty stick, + An' laid it on, wi' all his might, + The poor pig's vlitches, left an' right; + While mister Crow, that talk'd so fine + O' friendship, left the pig behine, + An' vled away upon a distant tree, + Vor pigs can only grub, but crows can vlee. + + TOM. + + Aye, thik there teäle mid do vor childern's books: + But you wull vind it hardish for ye + To frighten me, John, wi' a storry + O' silly pigs an' cunnčn rooks. + If we be grubbčn pigs, why then, I s'pose, + The farmers an' the girt woones be the crows. + + JOHN. + + 'Tis very odd there idden any friend + To poor-vo'k hereabout, but men mus' come + To do us good away from tother end + Ov England! Han't we any frien's near hwome? + I mus' zay, Thomas, that 'tis rather odd + That strangers should become so very civil,-- + That ouer vo'k be childern o' the Devil, + An' other vo'k be all the vo'k o' God! + If we've a-got a friend at all, + Why who can tell--I'm sure thou cassen-- + But that the squier, or the pa'son, + Mid be our friend, Tom, after all? + The times be hard, 'tis true! an' they that got + His blessčns, shoulden let theirzelves vorget + How 'tis where the vo'k do never zet + A bit o' meat within their rusty pot. + The man a-zittčn in his easy chair + To flesh, an' vowl, an' vish, should try to speäre + The poor theäse times, a little vrom his store; + An' if he don't, why sin is at his door. + + TOM. + + Ah! we won't look to that; we'll have our right,-- + If not by feäir meäns, then we wull by might. + We'll meäke times better vor us; we'll be free + Ov other vo'k an' others' charity. + + JOHN. + + Ah! I do think you mid as well be quiet; + You'll meäke things wo'se, i'-ma'-be, by a riot. + You'll get into a mess, Tom, I'm afeärd; + You'll goo vor wool, an' then come hwome a-sheär'd. + + + + +POEMS OF RURAL LIFE. + + +SECOND COLLECTION. + + + + +BLACKMWORE MAIDENS. + + + The primrwose in the sheäde do blow, + The cowslip in the zun, + The thyme upon the down do grow, + The clote where streams do run; + An' where do pretty maīdens grow + An' blow, but where the tow'r + Do rise among the bricken tuns, + In Blackmwore by the Stour. + + If you could zee their comely gaīt, + An' prett˙ feäces' smiles, + A-trippčn on so light o' waīght, + An' steppčn off the stiles; + A-gwaīn to church, as bells do swing + An' ring 'ithin the tow'r, + You'd own the pretty maīdens' pleäce + Is Blackmwore by the Stour. + + If you vrom Wimborne took your road, + To Stower or Paladore, + An' all the farmers' housen show'd + Their daughters at the door; + You'd cry to bachelors at hwome-- + "Here, come: 'ithin an hour + You'll vind ten maīdens to your mind, + In Blackmwore by the Stour." + + An' if you look'd 'ithin their door, + To zee em in their pleäce, + A-dočn housework up avore + Their smilčn mother's feäce; + You'd cry--"Why, if a man would wive + An' thrive, 'ithout a dow'r, + Then let en look en out a wife + In Blackmwore by the Stour." + + As I upon my road did pass + A school-house back in Ma˙, + There out upon the beäten grass + Wer maīdens at their pla˙; + An' as the pretty souls did tweil + An' smile, I cried, "The flow'r + O' beauty, then, is still in bud + In Blackmwore by the Stour." + + + + +MY ORCHA'D IN LINDEN LEA. + + + 'Ithin the woodlands, flow'ry gleäded, + By the woak tree's mossy moot, + The sheenčn grass-bleädes, timber-sheäded, + Now do quiver under voot; + An' birds do whissle over head, + An' water's bubblčn in its bed, + An' there vor me the apple tree + Do leän down low in Linden Lea. + + When leaves that leätely wer a-springčn + Now do feäde 'ithin the copse, + An' paīnted birds do hush their zingčn + Up upon the timber's tops; + An' brown-leav'd fruit's a-turnčn red, + In cloudless zunsheen, over head, + Wi' fruit vor me, the apple tree + Do leän down low in Linden Lea. + + Let other vo'k meäke money vaster + In the aīr o' dark-room'd towns, + I don't dread a peevish meäster; + Though noo man do heed my frowns, + I be free to goo abrode, + Or teäke ageän my hwomeward road + To where, vor me, the apple tree + Do leän down low in Linden Lea. + + + + +BISHOP'S CAUNDLE. + + + At peace day, who but we should goo + To Caundle vor an' hour or two: + As ga˙ a day as ever broke + Above the heads o' Caundle vo'k, + Vor peace, a-come vor all, did come + To them wi' two new friends at hwome. + Zoo while we kept, wi' nimble peäce, + The wold dun tow'r avore our feäce, + The aīr, at last, begun to come + Wi' drubbčns ov a beäten drum; + An' then we heärd the horns' loud droats + Pla˙ off a tuen's upper notes; + An' then ageän a-risčn cheärm + Vrom tongues o' people in a zwarm: + An' zoo, at last, we stood among + The merry feäces o' the drong. + An' there, wi' garlands all a-tied + In wreaths an' bows on every zide, + An' color'd flags, a fluttrčn high + An' bright avore the sheenčn sky, + The very guide-post wer a-drest + Wi' posies on his eärms an' breast. + At last, the vo'k zwarm'd in by scores + An' hundreds droo the high barn-doors, + To dine on English feäre, in ranks, + A-zot on chairs, or stools, or planks, + By bwoards a-reachčn, row an' row, + Wi' cloths so white as driven snow. + An' while they took, wi' merry cheer, + Their pleäces at the meat an' beer, + The band did blow an' beät aloud + Their merry tučns to the crowd; + An' slowly-zwingčn flags did spread + Their hangčn colors over head. + An' then the vo'k, wi' ja˙ an' pride, + Stood up in stillness, zide by zide, + Wi' downcast heads, the while their friend + Rose up avore the teäble's end, + An' zaid a timely greäce, an' blest + The welcome meat to every guest. + An' then arose a mingled naīse + O' knives an' pleätes, an' cups an' tra˙s, + An' tongues wi' merry tongues a-drown'd + Below a deaf'nčn storm o' sound. + An' zoo, at last, their worthy host + Stood up to gi'e em all a twoast, + That they did drink, wi' shouts o' glee, + An' whirlčn eärms to dree times dree. + An' when the bwoards at last wer beäre + Ov all the cloths an' goodly feäre, + An' froth noo longer rose to zwim + Within the beer-mugs sheenčn rim, + The vo'k, a-streamčn drough the door, + Went out to geämes they had in store + An' on the blue-reäv'd waggon's bed, + Above his vower wheels o' red, + Musicians zot in rows, an' pla˙'d + Their tučns up to chap an' maīd, + That beät, wi' pla˙some tooes an' heels, + The level ground in nimble reels. + An' zome ageän, a-zet in line, + An' startčn at a given sign, + Wi' outreach'd breast, a-breathčn quick + Droo op'nčn lips, did nearly kick + Their polls, a-runnčn sich a peäce, + Wi' streamčn heäir, to win the reäce. + An' in the house, an' on the green, + An' in the shrubb'ry's leafy screen, + On ev'ry zide we met sich lots + O' smilčn friends in happy knots, + That I do think, that drough the feäst + In Caundle, vor a day at leäst, + You woudden vind a scowlčn feäce + Or dumpy heart in all the pleäce. + + + + +HAY MEAKEN--NUNCHEN TIME. + +_Anne an' John a-ta'kčn o't._ + + + A. Back here, but now, the jobber John + Come by, an' cried, "Well done, zing on, + I thought as I come down the hill, + An' heärd your zongs a-ringčn sh'ill, + Who woudden like to come, an' fling + A peäir o' prongs where you did zing?" + + J. Aye, aye, he woudden vind it pla˙, + To work all day a-meäkčn ha˙, + Or pitchčn o't, to eärms a-spread + By lwoaders, yards above his head, + 'T'ud meäke en wipe his drippčn brow. + + A. Or else a-reäken after plow. + + J. Or workčn, wi' his nimble pick, + A-stiffled wi' the ha˙, at rick. + + A. Our Company would suit en best, + When we do teäke our bit o' rest, + At nunch, a-gather'd here below + The sheäde theäse wide-bough'd woak do drow, + Where hissčn froth mid rise, an' float + In horns o' eäle, to wet his droat. + + J. Aye, if his zwellčn han' could drag + A meat-slice vrom his dinner bag. + 'T'ud meäke the busy little chap + Look rather glum, to zee his lap + Wi' all his meal ov woone dry croust, + An' vinny cheese so dry as doust. + + A. Well, I don't grumble at my food, + 'Tis wholesome, John, an' zoo 'tis good. + + J. Whose reäke is that a-lyčn there? + Do look a bit the woo'se vor wear. + + A. Oh! I mus' get the man to meäke + A tooth or two vor thik wold reäke, + 'Tis leäbour lost to strik a stroke + Wi' him, wi' half his teeth a-broke. + + J. I should ha' thought your han' too fine + To break your reäke, if I broke mine. + + A. The ramsclaws thin'd his wooden gum + O' two teeth here, an' here were zome + That broke when I did reäke a patch + O' groun' wi' Jimmy, vor a match: + An' here's a gap ov woone or two + A-broke by Simon's clumsy shoe, + An' when I gi'ed his poll a poke, + Vor better luck, another broke. + In what a veag have you a-swung + Your pick, though, John? His stem's a-sprung. + + J. When I an' Simon had a het + O' pookčn, yonder, vor a bet, + The prongs o'n gi'ed a tump a poke, + An' then I vound the stem a-broke, + Bût they do meäke the stems o' picks + O' stuff so brittle as a kicks. + + A. There's poor wold Jeäne, wi' wrinkled skin, + A-tellčn, wi' her peakčd chin, + Zome teäle ov her young days, poor soul. + Do meäke the young-woones smile. 'Tis droll. + What is it? Stop, an' let's goo near. + I do like theäse wold teäles. Let's hear. + + + + +A FATHER OUT, AN' MOTHER HWOME. + + + The snow-white clouds did float on high + In shoals avore the sheenčn sky, + An' runnčn weäves in pon' did cheäse + Each other on the water's feäce, + As hufflčn win' did blow between + The new-leav'd boughs o' sheenčn green. + An' there, the while I walked along + The path, drough leäze, above the drong, + A little maīd, wi' bloomčn feäce, + Went on up hill wi' nimble peäce, + A-leänčn to the right-han' zide, + To car a basket that did ride, + A-hangčn down, wi' all his heft, + Upon her elbow at her left. + An' yet she hardly seem'd to bruise + The grass-bleädes wi' her tiny shoes, + That pass'd each other, left an' right. + In steps a'most too quick vor zight. + But she'd a-left her mother's door + A-bearčn vrom her little store + Her father's welcome bit o' food, + Where he wer out at work in wood; + An' she wer bless'd wi' mwore than zwome-- + A father out, an' mother hwome. + + An' there, a-vell'd 'ithin the copse, + Below the timber's new-leav'd tops, + Wer ashčn poles, a-castčn straīght, + On primrwose beds, their langthy waīght; + Below the yollow light, a-shed + Drough boughs upon the vi'let's head, + By climčn ivy, that did reach, + A sheenčn roun' the dead-leav'd beech. + An' there her father zot, an' meäde + His hwomely meal bezide a gleäde; + While she, a-croopčn down to ground, + Did pull the flowers, where she vound + The droopčn vi'let out in blooth, + Or yollow primrwose in the lewth, + That she mid car em proudly back, + An' zet em on her mother's tack; + Vor she wer bless'd wi' mwore than zwome-- + A father out, an' mother hwome. + A father out, an' mother hwome, + Be blessčns soon a-lost by zome; + A-lost by me, an' zoo I pray'd + They mid be speär'd the little maīd. + + + + +RIDDLES. + +_Anne an' Joey a-ta'ken._ + + + A. A plague! theäse cow wont stand a bit, + Noo sooner do she zee me zit + Ageän her, than she's in a trot, + A-runnčn to zome other spot. + + J. Why 'tis the dog do sceäre the cow, + He worried her a-vield benow. + + A. Goo in, Ah! _Liplap_, where's your taīl! + + J. He's off, then up athirt the raīl. + Your cow there, Anne's a-come to hand + A goodish milcher. A. If she'd stand, + But then she'll steäre an' start wi' fright + To zee a dumbledore in flight. + Last week she het the paīl a flought, + An' flung my meal o' milk half out. + + J. Ha! Ha! But Anny, here, what lout + Broke half your small paīl's bottom out? + + A. What lout indeed! What, do ye own + The neäme? What dropp'd en on a stwone? + + J. Hee! Hee! Well now he's out o' trim + Wi' only half a bottom to en; + Could you still vill en' to the brim + An' yit not let the milk run drough en? + + A. Aye, as for nonsense, Joe, your head + Do hold it all so tight's a blather, + But if 'tis any good, do shed + It all so leäky as a lather. + Could you vill paīls 'ithout a bottom, + Yourself that be so deeply skill'd? + + J. Well, ees, I could, if I'd a-got em + Inside o' bigger woones a-vill'd. + + A. La! that _is_ zome'hat vor to hatch! + Here answer me theäse little catch. + Down under water an' o' top o't + I went, an' didden touch a drop o't, + + J. Not when at mowčn time I took + An' pull'd ye out o' Longmeäd brook, + Where you'd a-slidder'd down the edge + An' zunk knee-deep bezide the zedge, + A-tryčn to reäke out a clote. + + A. Aye I do hear your chucklčn droat + When I athirt the brudge did bring + Zome water on my head vrom spring. + Then under water an' o' top o't, + Wer I an' didden touch a drop o't. + + J. O Lauk! What thik wold riddle still, + Why that's as wold as Duncliffe Hill; + "A two-lagg'd thing do run avore + An' run behind a man, + An' never run upon his lags + Though on his lags do stan'." + What's that? + I don't think you do know. + There idden sich a thing to show. + Not know? Why yonder by the stall + 'S a wheel-barrow bezide the wall, + Don't he stand on his lags so trim, + An' run on nothčn but his wheels wold rim. + + A. There's _horn_ vor Goodman's eye-zight seäke; + There's _horn_ vor Goodman's mouth to teäke; + There's _horn_ vor Goodman's ears, as well + As _horn_ vor Goodman's nose to smell-- + What _horns_ be they, then? Do your hat + Hold wit enough to tell us that? + + J. Oh! _horns_! but no, I'll tell ye what, + My cow is hornless, an' she's _knot_. + + A. _Horn_ vor the _mouth's_ a hornčn cup. + + J. An' eäle's good stuff to vill en up. + + A. An' _horn_ vor _eyes_ is horn vor light, + Vrom Goodman's lantern after night; + _Horn_ vor the _ears_ is woone to sound + Vor hunters out wi' ho'se an' hound; + But _horn_ that vo'k do buy to smell o' + Is _hart's-horn_. J. Is it? What d'ye tell o' + How proud we be, vor ben't we smart? + Aye, _horn_ is _horn_, an' hart is hart. + Well here then, Anne, while we be at it, + 'S a ball vor you if you can bat it. + On dree-lags, two-lags, by the zide + O' vower-lags, woonce did zit wi' pride, + When vower-lags, that velt a prick, + Vrom zix-lags, het two lags a kick. + An' two an' dree-lags vell, all vive, + Slap down, zome dead an' zome alive. + + A. Teeh! heeh! what have ye now then, Joe, + At last, to meäke a riddle o'? + + J. Your dree-lagg'd stool woone night did bear + Up you a milkčn wi' a peäir; + An' there a zix-lagg'd stout did prick + Your vow'r-lagg'd cow, an meäke her kick, + A-hettčn, wi' a pretty pat, + Your stool an' you so flat's a mat. + You scrambled up a little dirty, + But I do hope it didden hurt ye. + + A. You hope, indeed! a likely ceäse, + Wi' thik broad grin athirt your feäce + You saucy good-vor-nothčn chap, + I'll gi'e your grinnčn feäce a slap, + Your drawlčn tongue can only run + To turn a body into fun. + + J. Oh! I woont do 't ageän. Oh dear! + Till next time, Anny. Oh my ear! + Oh! Anne, why you've a-het my hat + 'Ithin the milk, now look at that. + + A. Do sar ye right, then, I don't ceäre. + I'll thump your noddle,--there--there--there. + + + + +DAY'S WORK A-DONE. + + + And oh! the ja˙ our rest did yield, + At evenčn by the mossy wall, + When we'd a-work'd all day a-vield, + While zummer zuns did rise an' vall; + As there a-lettčn + Goo all frettčn, + An' vorgettčn all our tweils, + We zot among our childern's smiles. + + An' under skies that glitter'd white, + The while our smoke, arisčn blue, + Did melt in aiër, out o' zight, + Above the trees that kept us lew; + Wer birds a-zingčn, + Tongues a-ringčn, + Childern springčn, vull o' ja˙, + A-finishčn the day in pla˙. + + An' back behind, a-stannčn tall, + The cliff did sheen to western light; + An' while avore the water-vall, + A-rottlčn loud, an' foamčn white. + The leaves did quiver, + Gnots did whiver, + By the river, where the pool, + In evenčn aīr did glissen cool. + + An' childern there, a-runnčn wide, + Did pla˙ their geämes along the grove, + Vor though to us 'twer ja˙ to bide + At rest, to them 'twer ja˙ to move. + The while my smilčn + Jeäne, beguilčn, + All my tweilčn, wi' her ceäre, + Did call me to my evenčn feäre. + + + + +LIGHT OR SHEÄDE. + + + A Ma˙tide's evenčn wer a-dyčn, + Under moonsheen, into night, + Wi' a streamčn wind a-sighčn + By the thorns a-bloomčn white. + Where in sheäde, a-zinkčn deeply, + Wer a nook, all dark but lew, + By a bank, arisčn steeply, + Not to let the win' come drough. + + Should my love goo out, a-showčn + All her smiles, in open light; + Or, in lewth, wi' wind a-blowčn, + Sta˙ in darkness, dim to zight? + Sta˙ in sheäde o' bank or wallčn, + In the warmth, if not in light; + Words alwone vrom her a-vallčn, + Would be ja˙ vor all the night. + + + + +THE WAGGON A-STOODED. + +_Dree o'm a-ta'kčn o't._ + + (1) Well, here we be, then, wi' the vu'st poor lwoad + O' vuzz we brought, a-stoodčd in the road. + + (2) The road, George, no. There's na'r a road. That's wrong. + If we'd a road, we mid ha' got along. + + (1) Noo road! Ees 'tis, the road that we do goo. + + (2) Do goo, George, no. The pleäce we can't get drough. + + (1) Well, there, the vu'st lwoad we've a-haul'd to day + Is here a-stoodčd in theäse bed o' clay. + Here's rotten groun'! an' how the wheels do cut! + The little woone's a-zunk up to the nut. + + (3) An' yeet this rotten groun' don't reach a lug. + + (1) Well, come, then, gi'e the plow another tug. + + (2) They meäres wull never pull the waggon out, + A-lwoaded, an' a-stoodčd in thik rout. + + (3) We'll try. Come, _Smiler_, come! C'up, _Whitevoot_, gee! + + (2) White-voot wi' lags all over mud! Hee! Hee! + + (3) 'Twoon't wag. We shall but snap our gear, + An' overstraīn the meäres. 'Twoon't wag, 'tis clear. + + (1) That's your work, William. No, in coo'se, 'twoon't wag. + Why did ye dr[=e]ve en into theäse here quag? + The vore-wheels be a-zunk above the nuts. + + (3) What then? I coulden leäve the beäten track, + To turn the waggon over on the back + Ov woone o' theäsem wheel-high emmet-butts. + If you be sich a dr[=e]ver, an' do know't, + You dr[=e]ve the plow, then; but you'll overdrow 't. + + (1) I dr[=e]ve the plow, indeed! Oh! ees, what, now + The wheels woont wag, then, _I_ mid dr[=e]ve the plow! + We'd better dig away the groun' below + The wheels. (2) There's na'r a speäde to dig wi'. + + (1) An' teäke an' cut a lock o' frith, an' drow + Upon the clay. (2) Nor hook to cut a twig wi'. + + (1) Oh! here's a bwoy a-comčn. Here, my lad, + Dost know vor a'r a speäde, that can be had? + + (B) At father's. (1) Well, where's that? (Bwoy) At Sam'el Riddick's. + + (1) Well run, an' ax vor woone. Fling up your heels, + An' mind: a speäde to dig out theäsem wheels, + An' hook to cut a little lock o' widdicks. + + (3) Why, we shall want zix ho'ses, or a dozen, + To pull the waggon out, wi' all theäse vuzzen. + + (1) Well, we mus' lighten en; come, Jeämes, then, hop + Upon the lwoad, an' jus' fling off the top. + + (2) If I can clim' en; but 'tis my consaīt, + That I shall overzet en wi' my waīght. + + (1) You overzet en! No, Jeämes, he won't vall, + The lwoad's a-built so firm as any wall. + + (2) Here! lend a hand or shoulder vor my knee + Or voot. I'll scramble to the top an' zee + What I can do. Well, here I be, among + The fakkets, vor a bit, but not vor long. + Heigh, George! Ha! ha! Why this wull never stand. + Your firm 's a wall, is all so loose as zand; + 'Tis all a-come to pieces. Oh! Teäke ceäre! + Ho! I'm a-vallčn, vuzz an' all! Haë! There! + + (1) Lo'k there, thik fellor is a-vell lik' lead, + An' half the fuzzen wi 'n, heels over head! + There's all the vuzz a-lyčn lik' a staddle, + An' he a-deäb'd wi' mud. Oh! Here's a caddle! + + (3) An' zoo you soon got down zome vuzzen, Jimmy. + + (2) Ees, I do know 'tis down. I brought it wi' me. + + (3) Your lwoad, George, wer a rather slick-built thing, + But there, 'twer prickly vor the hands! Did sting? + + (1) Oh! ees, d'ye teäke me vor a nincompoop, + No, no. The lwoad wer up so firm's a rock, + But two o' theäsem emmet-butts would knock + The tightest barrel nearly out o' hoop. + + (3) Oh! now then, here 's the bwoy a-bringčn back + The speäde. Well done, my man. That idder slack. + + (2) Well done, my lad, sha't have a ho'se to ride + When thou'st a meäre. (Bwoy) Next never's-tide. + + (3) Now let's dig out a spit or two + O' clay, a-vore the little wheels; + Oh! so's, I can't pull up my heels, + I be a-stogg'd up over shoe. + + (1) Come, William, dig away! Why you do spuddle + A'most so weak's a child. How you do muddle! + Gi'e me the speäde a-bit. A pig would rout + It out a'most so nimbly wi' his snout. + + (3) Oh! so's, d'ye hear it, then. How we can thunder! + How big we be, then George! what next I wonder? + + (1) Now, William, gi'e the waggon woone mwore twitch, + The wheels be free, an' 'tis a lighter nitch. + + (3) Come, _Smiler_, gee! C'up, _White-voot_. (1) That wull do. + + (2) Do wag. (1) Do goo at last. (3) Well done. 'Tis drough. + + (1) Now, William, till you have mwore ho'ses' lags, + Don't dr[=e]ve the waggon into theäsem quags. + + (3) You build your lwoads up tight enough to ride. + + (1) I can't do less, d'ye know, wi' you vor guide. + + + + +GWAĪN DOWN THE STEPS VOR WATER. + + + While zuns do roll vrom east to west + To bring us work, or leäve us rest, + There down below the steep hill-zide, + Drough time an' tide, the spring do flow; + An' mothers there, vor years a-gone, + Lik' daughters now a-comčn on, + To bloom when they be weak an' wan, + Went down the steps vor water. + + An' what do yonder ringers tell + A-ringčn changes, bell by bell; + Or what's a-show'd by yonder zight + O' vo'k in white, upon the road, + But that by John o' Woodleys zide, + There's now a-blushčn vor his bride, + A pretty maīd that vu'st he spied, + Gwaīn down the steps vor water. + + Though she, 'tis true, is feäir an' kind, + There still be mwore a-left behind; + So cleän 's the light the zun do gi'e, + So sprack 's a bee when zummer's bright; + An' if I've luck, I woont be slow + To teäke off woone that I do know, + A-trippčn gaīly to an' fro, + Upon the steps vor water. + + Her father idden poor--but vew + In parish be so well to do; + Vor his own cows do swing their taīls + Behind his paīls, below his boughs: + An' then ageän to win my love, + Why, she's as hwomely as a dove, + An' don't hold up herzelf above + Gwaīn down the steps vor water. + + Gwaīn down the steps vor water! No! + How handsome it do meäke her grow. + If she'd be straīght, or walk abrode, + To tread her road wi' comely gaīt, + She coulden do a better thing + To zet herzelf upright, than bring + Her pitcher on her head, vrom spring + Upon the steps, wi' water. + + No! don't ye neäme in woone seäme breath + Wi' bachelors, the husband's he'th; + The happy pleäce, where vingers thin + Do pull woone's chin, or pat woone's feäce. + But still the bleäme is their's, to slight + Their happiness, wi' such a zight + O' maīdens, mornčn, noon, an' night, + A-gwaīn down steps vor water. + + + + +ELLEN BRINE OV ALLENBURN. + + + Noo soul did hear her lips complaīn, + An' she's a-gone vrom all her paīn, + An' others' loss to her is gaīn + For she do live in heaven's love; + Vull many a longsome day an' week + She bore her aīlčn, still, an' meek; + A-workčn while her strangth held on, + An' guidčn housework, when 'twer gone. + Vor Ellen Brine ov Allenburn, + Oh! there be souls to murn. + + The last time I'd a-cast my zight + Upon her feäce, a-feäded white, + Wer in a zummer's mornčn light + In hall avore the smwold'rčn vier, + The while the childern beät the vloor, + In pla˙, wi' tiny shoes they wore, + An' call'd their mother's eyes to view + The feät's their little limbs could do. + Oh! Ellen Brine ov Allenburn, + They childern now mus' murn. + + Then woone, a-stoppčn vrom his reäce, + Went up, an' on her knee did pleäce + His hand, a-lookčn in her feäce, + An' wi' a smilčn mouth so small, + He zaid, "You promised us to goo + To Shroton feäir, an' teäke us two!" + She heärd it wi' her two white ears, + An' in her eyes there sprung two tears, + Vor Ellen Brine ov Allenburn + Did veel that they mus' murn. + + September come, wi' Shroton feäir, + But Ellen Brine wer never there! + A heavy heart wer on the meäre + Their father rod his hwomeward road. + 'Tis true he brought zome feärčns back, + Vor them two childern all in black; + But they had now, wi' pla˙things new, + Noo mother vor to shew em to, + Vor Ellen Brine ov Allenburn + Would never mwore return. + + + + +THE MOTHERLESS CHILD. + + + The zun'd a-zet back tother night, + But in the zettčn pleäce + The clouds, a-redden'd by his light, + Still glow'd avore my feäce. + An' I've a-lost my Meäry's smile, + I thought; but still I have her chile, + Zoo like her, that my eyes can treäce + The mother's in her daughter's feäce. + O little feäce so near to me, + An' like thy mother's gone; why need I zay + Sweet night cloud, wi' the glow o' my lost day, + Thy looks be always dear to me. + The zun'd a-zet another night; + But, by the moon on high, + He still did zend us back his light + Below a cwolder sky. + My Meäry's in a better land + I thought, but still her chile's at hand, + An' in her chile she'll zend me on + Her love, though she herzelf's a-gone. + O little chile so near to me, + An' like thy mother gone; why need I zay, + Sweet moon, the messenger vrom my lost day, + Thy looks be always dear to me. + + + + +THE LEÄDY'S TOWER. + + + An' then we went along the gleädes + O' zunny turf, in quiv'rčn sheädes, + A-windčn off, vrom hand to hand, + Along a path o' yollow zand, + An' clomb a stickle slope, an' vound + An open patch o' lofty ground, + Up where a steätely tow'r did spring, + So high as highest larks do zing. + + "Oh! Meäster Collins," then I zaid, + A-lookčn up wi' back-flung head; + Vor who but he, so mild o' feäce, + Should teäke me there to zee the pleäce. + "What is it then theäse tower do meän, + A-built so feäir, an' kept so cleän?" + "Ah! me," he zaid, wi' thoughtvul feäce, + "'Twer grief that zet theäse tower in pleäce. + The squier's e'thly life's a-blest + Wi' gifts that mwost do teäke vor best; + The lofty-pinion'd rufs do rise + To screen his head vrom stormy skies; + His land's a-spreadčn roun' his hall, + An' hands do leäbor at his call; + The while the ho'se do fling, wi' pride, + His lofty head where he do guide; + But still his e'thly ja˙'s a-vled, + His woone true friend, his wife, is dead. + Zoo now her happy soul's a-gone, + An' he in grief's a-ling'rčn on, + Do do his heart zome good to show + His love to flesh an' blood below. + An' zoo he rear'd, wi' smitten soul, + Theäse Leädy's Tower upon the knowl. + An' there you'll zee the tow'r do spring + Twice ten veet up, as roun's a ring, + Wi' pillars under mwolded eäves, + Above their heads a-carv'd wi' leaves; + An' have to peäce, a-walkčn round + His voot, a hunderd veet o' ground. + An' there, above his upper wall, + A roundčd tow'r do spring so tall + 'S a springčn arrow shot upright, + A hunderd giddy veet in height. + An' if you'd like to straīn your knees + A-climčn up above the trees, + To zee, wi' slowly wheelčn feäce, + The vur-sky'd land about the pleäce, + You'll have a flight o' steps to wear + Vor forty veet, up steäir by steäir, + That roun' the risčn tow'r do wind, + Like withwind roun' the saplčn's rind, + An' reach a landčn, wi' a seat, + To rest at last your weary veet, + 'Ithin a breast be-screenčn wall, + To keep ye vrom a longsome vall. + An' roun' the windčn steäirs do spring + Aīght stwončn pillars in a ring, + A-reachčn up their heavy strangth + Drough forty veet o' slender langth, + To end wi' carvčd heads below + The broad-vloor'd landčn's aīry bow. + Aīght zides, as you do zee, do bound + The lower buildčn on the ground, + An' there in woone, a two-leav'd door + Do zwing above the marble vloor: + An' a˙e, as luck do zoo betide + Our comčn, wi' can goo inside. + The door is oben now. An' zoo + The keeper kindly let us drough. + There as we softly trod the vloor + O' marble stwone, 'ithin the door, + The echoes ov our vootsteps vled + Out roun' the wall, and over head; + An' there a-paīnted, zide by zide, + In memory o' the squier's bride, + In zeven paīntčns, true to life, + Wer zeven zights o' wedded life." + + Then Meäster Collins twold me all + The teäles a-paīntčd roun' the wall; + An' vu'st the bride did stan' to plight + Her weddčn vow, below the light + A-shootčn down, so bright's a fleäme, + In drough a churches window freäme. + An' near the bride, on either hand, + You'd zee her comely bridemaīds stand, + Wi' eyelashes a-bent in streäks + O' brown above their bloomčn cheäks: + An' sheenčn feäir, in mellow light, + Wi' flowčn heäir, an' frocks o' white. + + "An' here," good Meäster Collins cried, + "You'll zee a creädle at her zide, + An' there's her child, a-lyčn deep + 'Ithin it, an' a-gone to sleep, + Wi' little eyelashes a-met + In fellow streäks, as black as jet; + The while her needle, over head, + Do nimbly leäd the snow-white thread, + To zew a robe her love do meäke + Wi' happy leäbor vor his seäke. + + "An' here a-geän's another pleäce, + Where she do zit wi' smilčn feäce, + An' while her bwoy do leän, wi' pride, + Ageän her lap, below her zide, + Her vinger tip do leäd his look + To zome good words o' God's own book. + + "An' next you'll zee her in her pleäce, + Avore her happy husband's feäce, + As he do zit, at evenčn-tide, + A-restčn by the vier-zide. + An' there the childern's heads do rise + Wi' laughčn lips, an' beamčn eyes, + Above the bwoard, where she do lay + Her sheenčn tacklčn, wi' the tea. + + "An' here another zide do show + Her vinger in her scizzars' bow + Avore two daughters, that do stand, + Wi' leärnsome minds, to watch her hand + A-sheäpčn out, wi' skill an' ceäre, + A frock vor them to zew an' wear. + + "Then next you'll zee her bend her head + Above her aīlčn husband's bed, + A-fannčn, wi' an inward pra˙'r, + His burnčn brow wi' beäten aīr; + The while the clock, by candle light, + Do show that 'tis the dead o' night. + + "An' here ageän upon the wall, + Where we do zee her last ov all, + Her husband's head's a-hangčn low, + 'Ithin his hands in deepest woe. + An' she, an angel ov his God, + Do cheer his soul below the rod, + A-liftčn up her han' to call + His eyes to writčn on the wall, + As white as is her spotless robe, + 'Hast thou rememberčd my servant Job?' + + "An' zoo the squier, in grief o' soul, + Built up the Tower upon the knowl." + + + + +FATHERHOOD. + + + Let en zit, wi' his dog an' his cat, + Wi' their noses a-turn'd to the vier, + An' have all that a man should desire; + But there idden much reädship in that. + Whether vo'k mid have childern or no, + Wou'dden meäke mighty odds in the maīn; + They do bring us mwore ja˙ wi' mwore ho, + An' wi' nwone we've less ja˙ wi' less paīn + We be all lik' a zull's idle sheäre out, + An' shall rust out, unless we do wear out, + Lik' do-nothčn, rue-nothčn, + Dead alive dumps. + + As vor me, why my life idden bound + To my own heart alwone, among men; + I do live in myzelf, an' ageän + In the lives o' my childern all round: + I do live wi' my bwoy in his pla˙, + An' ageän wi' my maīd in her zongs; + An' my heart is a-stirr'd wi' their ja˙, + An' would burn at the zight o' their wrongs. + I ha' nine lives, an' zoo if a half + O'm do cry, why the rest o'm mid laugh + All so pla˙vully, ja˙vully, + Happy wi' hope. + + Tother night I come hwome a long road, + When the weather did sting an' did vreeze; + An' the snow--vor the day had a-snow'd-- + Wer avroze on the boughs o' the trees; + An' my tooes an' my vingers wer num', + An' my veet wer so lumpy as logs, + An' my ears wer so red's a cock's cwom'; + An' my nose wer so cwold as a dog's; + But so soon's I got hwome I vorgot + Where my limbs wer a-cwold or wer hot, + When wi' loud cries an' proud cries + They coll'd me so cwold. + + Vor the vu'st that I happen'd to meet + Come to pull my girtcwoat vrom my eärm, + An' another did rub my feäce warm, + An' another hot-slipper'd my veet; + While their mother did cast on a stick, + Vor to keep the red vier alive; + An' they all come so busy an' thick + As the bees vlee-čn into their hive, + An' they meäde me so happy an' proud, + That my heart could ha' crow'd out a-loud; + They did tweil zoo, an' smile zoo, + An' coll me so cwold. + + As I zot wi' my teacup, at rest, + There I pull'd out the ta˙s I did bring; + Men a-kickčn, a-wagg'd wi' a string, + An' goggle-ey'd dolls to be drest; + An' oh! vrom the childern there sprung + Such a charm when they handled their ta˙s, + That vor pleasure the bigger woones wrung + Their two hands at the zight o' their ja˙s; + As the bwoys' bigger vaīces vell in + Wi' the maīdens a-titterčn thin, + An' their dancčn an' prancčn, + An' little mouth's laughs. + + Though 'tis hard stripes to breed em all up, + If I'm only a-blest vrom above, + They'll meäke me amends wi' their love, + Vor their pillow, their pleäte, an' their cup; + Though I shall be never a-spweil'd + Wi' the sarvice that money can buy; + Still the hands ov a wife an' a child + Be the blessčns ov low or ov high; + An' if there be mouths to be ved, + He that zent em can zend me their bread, + An' will smile on the chile + That's a-new on the knee. + + + + +THE MAID O' NEWTON. + + + In zummer, when the knaps wer bright + In cool-aīr'd evenčn's western light, + An' ha˙ that had a-dried all day, + Did now lie grey, to dewy night; + I went, by happy chance, or doom, + Vrom Broadwoak Hill, athirt to Coomb, + An' met a maīd in all her bloom: + The feaīrest maīd o' Newton. + + She bore a basket that did ride + So light, she didden leän azide; + Her feäce wer oval, an' she smil'd + So sweet's a child, but walk'd wi' pride. + I spoke to her, but what I zaid + I didden know; wi' thoughts a-vled, + I spoke by heart, an' not by head, + Avore the maīd o' Newton. + + I call'd her, oh! I don't know who, + 'Twer by a neäme she never knew; + An' to the heel she stood upon, + She then brought on her hinder shoe, + An' stopp'd avore me, where we met, + An' wi' a smile woone can't vorget, + She zaid, wi' eyes a-zwimmčn wet, + "No, I be woone o' Newton." + + Then on I rambled to the west, + Below the zunny hangčn's breast, + Where, down athirt the little stream, + The brudge's beam did lie at rest: + But all the birds, wi' lively glee, + Did chirp an' hop vrom tree to tree, + As if it wer vrom pride, to zee + Goo by the maīd o' Newton. + + By fancy led, at evenčn's glow, + I woonce did goo, a-rovčn slow, + Down where the elčms, stem by stem, + Do stan' to hem the grove below; + But after that, my veet vorzook + The grove, to seek the little brook + At Coomb, where I mid zometimes look, + To meet the maīd o' Newton. + + + + +CHILDHOOD. + + + Aye, at that time our days wer but vew, + An' our lim's wer but small, an' a-growčn; + An' then the feäir worold wer new, + An' life wer all hopevul an' ga˙; + An' the times o' the sproutčn o' leaves, + An' the cheäk-burnčn seasons o' mowčn, + An' bindčn o' red-headed sheaves, + Wer all welcome seasons o' ja˙. + + Then the housen seem'd high, that be low, + An' the brook did seem wide that is narrow, + An' time, that do vlee, did goo slow, + An' veelčns now feeble wer strong, + An' our worold did end wi' the neämes + Ov the Sha'sbury Hill or Bulbarrow; + An' life did seem only the geämes + That we pla˙'d as the days rolled along. + + Then the rivers, an' high-timber'd lands, + An' the zilvery hills, 'ithout buyčn, + Did seem to come into our hands + Vrom others that own'd em avore; + An' all zickness, an' sorrow, an' need, + Seem'd to die wi' the wold vo'k a-dyčn, + An' leäve us vor ever a-freed + Vrom evils our vorefathers bore. + + But happy be childern the while + They have elders a-livčn to love em, + An' teäke all the wearisome tweil + That zome hands or others mus' do; + Like the low-headed shrubs that be warm, + In the lewth o' the trees up above em, + A-screen'd vrom the cwold blowčn storm + That the timber avore em must rue. + + + + +MEÄRY'S SMILE. + + + When mornčn winds, a-blowčn high, + Do zweep the clouds vrom all the sky, + An' laurel-leaves do glitter bright, + The while the newly broken light + Do brighten up, avore our view, + The vields wi' green, an' hills wi' blue; + What then can highten to my eyes + The cheerful feäce ov e'th an' skies, + But Meäry's smile, o' Morey's Mill, + My rwose o' Mowy Lea. + + An' when, at last, the evenčn dews + Do now begin to wet our shoes; + An' night's a-ridčn to the west, + To stop our work, an' gi'e us rest, + Oh! let the candle's ruddy gleäre + But brighten up her sheenčn heäir; + Or else, as she do walk abroad, + Let moonlight show, upon the road, + My Meäry's smile, o' Morey's Mill, + My rwose o' Mowy Lea. + + An' O! mid never tears come on, + To wash her feäce's blushes wan, + Nor kill her smiles that now do pla˙ + Like sparklčn weäves in zunny Ma˙; + But mid she still, vor all she's gone + Vrom souls she now do smile upon, + Show others they can vind woone ja˙ + To turn the hardest work to pla˙. + My Meäry's smile, o' Morey's Mill, + My rwose o' Mowy Lea. + + + + +MEÄRY WEDDED. + + + The zun can zink, the stars mid rise, + An' woods be green to sheenčn skies; + The cock mid crow to mornčn light, + An' workvo'k zing to vallčn night; + The birds mid whissle on the spra˙, + An' childern leäp in merry pla˙, + But our's is now a lifeless pleäce, + Vor we've a-lost a smilčn feäce-- + Young Meäry Meäd o' merry mood, + Vor she's a-woo'd an' wedded. + + The dog that woonce wer glad to bear + Her fondlčn vingers down his heäir, + Do leän his head ageän the vloor, + To watch, wi' heavy eyes, the door; + An' men she zent so happy hwome + O' Zadurdays, do seem to come + To door, wi' downcast hearts, to miss + Wi' smiles below the clematis, + Young Meäry Meäd o' merry mood, + Vor she's a-woo'd an' wedded. + + When they do draw the evenčn blind, + An' when the evenčn light's a-tin'd, + The cheerless vier do drow a gleäre + O' light ageän her empty chair; + An' wordless gaps do now meäke thin + Their talk where woonce her vaīce come in. + Zoo lwonesome is her empty pleäce, + An' blest the house that ha' the feäce + O' Meäry Meäd, o' merry mood, + Now she's a-woo'd and wedded. + + The day she left her father's he'th, + Though sad, wer kept a day o' me'th, + An' dry-wheel'd waggons' empty beds + Wer left 'ithin the tree-screen'd sheds; + An' all the hosses, at their eäse, + Went snortčn up the flow'ry leäse, + But woone, the smartest for the roäd, + That pull'd away the dearest lwoad-- + Young Meäry Meäd o' merry mood, + That wer a-woo'd an' wedded. + + + + +THE STWONEN BWOY UPON THE PILLAR. + + + Wi' smokeless tuns an' empty halls, + An' moss a-clingčn to the walls, + In ev'ry wind the lofty tow'rs + Do teäke the zun, an' bear the show'rs; + An' there, 'ithin a geät a-hung, + But vasten'd up, an' never swung, + Upon the pillar, all alwone, + Do stan' the little bwoy o' stwone; + 'S a poppy bud mid linger on, + Vorseäken, when the wheat's a-gone. + An' there, then, wi' his bow let slack, + An' little quiver at his back, + Drough het an' wet, the little chile + Vrom day to day do stan' an' smile. + When vu'st the light, a-risčn weak, + At break o' day, do smite his cheäk, + Or while, at noon, the leafy bough + Do cast a sheäde a-thirt his brow, + Or when at night the warm-breath'd cows + Do sleep by moon-belighted boughs; + An' there the while the rooks do bring + Their scroff to build their nest in Spring, + Or zwallows in the zummer day + Do cling their little huts o' clay, + 'Ithin the raīnless sheädes, below + The steadvast arches' mossy bow. + Or when, in Fall, the woak do shed + The leaves, a-wither'd, vrom his head, + An' western win's, a-blowčn cool, + Do dreve em out athirt the pool, + Or Winter's clouds do gather dark + An' wet, wi' raīn, the elem's bark, + You'll zee his pretty smile betwixt + His little sheäde-mark'd lips a-fix'd; + As there his little sheäpe do bide + Drough day an' night, an' time an' tide, + An' never change his size or dress, + Nor overgrow his prettiness. + But, oh! thik child, that we do vind + In childhood still, do call to mind + A little bwoy a-call'd by death, + Long years agoo, vrom our sad he'th; + An' I, in thought, can zee en dim + The seäme in feäce, the seäme in lim', + My heäir mid whiten as the snow, + My limbs grow weak, my step wear slow, + My droopčn head mid slowly vall + Above the han'-staff's glossy ball, + An' yeet, vor all a wid'nčn span + Ov years, mid change a livčn man, + My little child do still appear + To me wi' all his childhood's gear, + 'Ithout a beard upon his chin, + 'Ithout a wrinkle in his skin, + A-livčn on, a child the seäme + In look, an' sheäpe, an' size, an' neäme. + + + + +THE YOUNG THAT DIED IN BEAUTY. + + + If souls should only sheen so bright + In heaven as in e'thly light, + An' nothčn better wer the ceäse, + How comely still, in sheäpe an' feäce, + Would many reach thik happy pleäce,-- + The hopeful souls that in their prime + Ha' seem'd a-took avore their time-- + The young that died in beauty. + + But when woone's lim's ha' lost their strangth + A-tweilčn drough a lifetime's langth, + An' over cheäks a-growčn wold + The slowly-weästen years ha' rolled, + The deep'nčn wrinkle's hollow vwold; + When life is ripe, then death do call + Vor less ov thought, than when do vall + On young vo'ks in their beauty. + + But pinčn souls, wi' heads a-hung + In heavy sorrow vor the young, + The sister ov the brother dead, + The father wi' a child a-vled, + The husband when his bride ha' laid + Her head at rest, noo mwore to turn, + Have all a-vound the time to murn + Vor youth that died in beauty. + + An' yeet the church, where pra˙er do rise + Vrom thoughtvul souls, wi' downcast eyes. + An' village greens, a-beät half beäre + By dancers that do meet, an' weär + Such merry looks at feäst an' feäir, + Do gather under leātest skies, + Their bloomčn cheäks an' sparklčn eyes, + Though young ha' died in beauty. + + But still the dead shall mwore than keep + The beauty ov their eärly sleep; + Where comely looks shall never weär + Uncomely, under tweil an' ceäre. + The feäir at death be always feäir, + Still feäir to livers' thought an' love, + An' feäirer still to God above, + Than when they died in beauty. + + + + +FAIR EMILY OV YARROW MILL. + + + Dear Yarrowham, 'twer many miles + Vrom thy green meäds that, in my walk, + I met a maīd wi' winnčn smiles, + That talk'd as vo'k at hwome do talk; + An' who at last should she be vound, + Ov all the souls the sky do bound, + But woone that trod at vu'st thy groun' + Fair Emily ov Yarrow Mill. + + But thy wold house an' elmy nook, + An' wall-screen'd geärden's mossy zides, + Thy grassy meäds an' zedgy brook, + An' high-bank'd leänes, wi' sheädy rides, + Wer all a-known to me by light + Ov eärly days, a-quench'd by night, + Avore they met the younger zight + Ov Emily ov Yarrow Mill. + + An' now my heart do leäp to think + O' times that I've a-spent in pla˙, + Bezide thy river's rushy brink, + Upon a deäizybed o' Ma˙; + I lov'd the friends thy land ha' bore, + An' I do love the paths they wore, + An' I do love thee all the mwore, + Vor Emily ov Yarrow Mill. + + When bright above the e'th below + The moon do spread abroad his light, + An' aīr o' zummer nights do blow + Athirt the vields in pla˙some flight, + 'Tis then delightsome under all + The sheädes o' boughs by path or wall, + But mwostly thine when they do vall + On Emily ov Yarrow Mill. + + + + +THE SCUD. + + + Aye, aye, the leäne wi' flow'ry zides + A-kept so lew, by hazzle-wrides, + Wi' beds o' graegles out in bloom, + Below the timber's windless gloon + An' geäte that I've a-swung, + An' rod as he's a-hung, + When I wer young, in Woakley Coomb. + + 'Twer there at feäst we all did pass + The evenčn on the leänezide grass, + Out where the geäte do let us drough, + Below the woak-trees in the lew, + In merry geämes an' fun + That meäde us skip an' run, + Wi' burnčn zun, an' sky o' blue. + + But still there come a scud that drove + The titt'rčn maīdens vrom the grove; + An' there a-left wer flow'ry mound, + 'Ithout a vaīce, 'ithout a sound, + Unless the aīr did blow, + Drough ruslčn leaves, an' drow, + The raīn drops low, upon the ground. + + I linger'd there an' miss'd the naīse; + I linger'd there an' miss'd our ja˙s; + I miss'd woone soul beyond the rest; + The maīd that I do like the best. + Vor where her vaīce is ga˙ + An' where her smiles do pla˙, + There's always ja˙ vor ev'ry breast. + + Vor zome vo'k out abroad ha' me'th, + But nwone at hwome bezide the he'th; + An' zome ha' smiles vor strangers' view; + An' frowns vor kith an' kin to rue; + But her sweet vaīce do vall, + Wi' kindly words to all, + Both big an' small, the whole day drough. + + An' when the evenčn sky wer peäle, + We heärd the warblčn nightčngeäle, + A-drawčn out his lwonesome zong, + In windčn music down the drong; + An' Jenny vrom her he'th, + Come out, though not in me'th, + But held her breath, to hear his zong. + + Then, while the bird wi' oben bill + Did warble on, her vaīce wer still; + An' as she stood avore me, bound + In stillness to the flow'ry mound, + "The bird's a ja˙ to zome," + I thought, "but when he's dum, + Her vaīce will come, wi' sweeter sound." + + + + +MINDEN HOUSE. + + + 'Twer when the vo'k wer out to hawl + A vield o' ha˙ a day in June, + An' when the zun begun to vall + Toward the west in afternoon, + Woone only wer a-left behind + To bide indoors, at hwome, an' mind + The house, an' answer vo'k avore + The geäte or door,--young Fanny Deäne. + + The aīr 'ithin the geärden wall + Wer deadly still, unless the bee + Did hummy by, or in the hall + The clock did ring a-hettčn dree, + An' there, wi' busy hands, inside + The iron ceäsement, oben'd wide, + Did zit an' pull wi' nimble twitch + Her tiny stitch, young Fanny Deäne. + + As there she zot she heärd two blows + A-knock'd upon the rumblčn door, + An' laid azide her work, an' rose, + An' walk'd out feäir, athirt the vloor; + An' there, a-holdčn in his hand + His bridled meäre, a youth did stand, + An' mildly twold his neäme and pleäce + Avore the feäce o' Fanny Deäne. + + He twold her that he had on hand + Zome business on his father's zide, + But what she didden understand; + An' zoo she ax'd en if he'd ride + Out where her father mid be vound, + Bezide the plow, in Cowslip Ground; + An' there he went, but left his mind + Back there behind, wi' Fanny Deäne. + + An' oh! his hwomeward road wer ga˙ + In aīr a-blowčn, whiff by whiff, + While sheenčn water-weäves did pla˙ + An' boughs did swa˙ above the cliff; + Vor Time had now a-show'd en dim + The ja˙ it had in store vor him; + An' when he went thik road ageän + His errand then wer Fanny Deäne. + + How strangely things be brought about + By Providence, noo tongue can tell, + She minded house, when vo'k wer out, + An' zoo mus' bid the house farewell; + The bees mid hum, the clock mid call + The lwonesome hours 'ithin the hall, + But in behind the woaken door, + There's now noo mwore a Fanny Deäne. + + + + +THE LOVELY MAĪD OV ELWELL MEÄD. + + + A maīd wi' many gifts o' greäce, + A maīd wi' ever-smilčn feäce, + A child o' yours my chilhood's pleäce, + O leänčn lawns ov Allen; + 'S a-walkčn where your stream do flow, + A-blushčn where your flowers do blow, + A-smilčn where your zun do glow, + O leänčn lawns ov Allen. + An' good, however good's a-waīgh'd, + 'S the lovely maīd ov Elwell Meäd. + + An' oh! if I could teäme an' guide + The winds above the e'th, an' ride + As light as shootčn stars do glide, + O leänčn lawns ov Allen, + To you I'd teäke my daily flight, + Drough dark'nčn aīr in evenčn's light, + An' bid her every night "Good night," + O leänčn lawns ov Allen. + Vor good, however good's a-waīgh'd, + 'S the lovely maīd ov Elwell Meäd. + + An' when your hedges' slooes be blue, + By blackberries o' dark'nčn hue, + An' spiders' webs behung wi' dew, + O leänčn lawns ov Allen + Avore the winter aīr's a-chill'd, + Avore your winter brook's a-vill'd + Avore your zummer flow'rs be kill'd, + O leänčn lawns ov Allen; + I there would meet, in white arra˙'d, + The lovely maīd ov Elwell Meäd. + + For when the zun, as birds do rise, + Do cast their sheädes vrom autum' skies, + A-sparklčn in her dewy eyes, + O leänčn lawns ov Allen + Then all your mossy paths below + The trees, wi' leaves a-vallčn slow, + Like zinkčn fleäkes o' yollow snow, + O leänčn lawns ov Allen. + Would be mwore teäkčn where they stra˙'d + The lovely maīd ov Elwell Meäd. + + + + +OUR FATHERS' WORKS. + + + Ah! I do think, as I do tread + Theäse path, wi' elems overhead, + A-climčn slowly up vrom Bridge, + By easy steps, to Broadwoak Ridge, + That all theäse roads that we do bruise + Wi' hosses' shoes, or heavy lwoads; + An' hedges' bands, where trees in row + Do rise an' grow aroun' the lands, + Be works that we've a-vound a-wrought + By our vorefathers' ceäre an' thought. + + They clear'd the groun' vor grass to teäke + The pleäce that bore the bremble breäke, + An' draīn'd the fen, where water spread, + A-lyčn dead, a beäne to men; + An' built the mill, where still the wheel + Do grind our meal, below the hill; + An' turn'd the bridge, wi' arch a-spread, + Below a road, vor us to tread. + + They vound a pleäce, where we mid seek + The gifts o' greäce vrom week to week; + An' built wi' stwone, upon the hill, + A tow'r we still do call our own; + With bells to use, an' meäke rejaīce, + Wi' giant vaīce, at our good news: + An' lifted stwones an' beams to keep + The raīn an' cwold vrom us asleep. + + Zoo now mid nwone ov us vorget + The pattern our vorefathers zet; + But each be fäin to underteäke + Some work to meäke vor others' gaīn, + That we mid leäve mwore good to sheäre, + Less ills to bear, less souls to grieve, + An' when our hands do vall to rest, + It mid be vrom a work a-blest. + + + + +THE WOLD VO'K DEAD. + + + My days, wi' wold vo'k all but gone, + An' childern now a-comčn on, + Do bring me still my mother's smiles + In light that now do show my chile's; + An' I've a-sheär'd the wold vo'ks' me'th, + Avore the burnčn Chris'mas he'th, + At friendly bwoards, where feäce by feäce, + Did, year by year, gi'e up its pleäce, + An' leäve me here, behind, to tread + The ground a-trod by wold vo'k dead. + + But wold things be a-lost vor new, + An' zome do come, while zome do goo: + As wither'd beech-tree leaves do cling + Among the nesh young buds o' Spring; + An' frettčn worms ha' slowly wound, + Droo beams the wold vo'k lifted sound, + An' trees they planted little slips + Ha' stems that noo two eärms can clips; + An' grey an' yollow moss do spread + On buildčns new to wold vo'k dead. + + The backs of all our zilv'ry hills, + The brook that still do dreve our mills, + The roads a-climčn up the brows + O' knaps, a-screen'd by meäple boughs, + Wer all a-mark'd in sheäde an' light + Avore our wolder fathers' zight, + In zunny days, a-gied their hands + For happy work, a-tillčn lands, + That now do yield their childern bread + Till they do rest wi' wold vo'k dead. + + But livčn vo'k, a-grievčn on, + Wi' lwonesome love, vor souls a-gone, + Do zee their goodness, but do vind + All else a-stealčn out o' mind; + As air do meäke the vurthest land + Look feäirer than the vield at hand, + An' zoo, as time do slowly pass, + So still's a sheäde upon the grass, + Its wid'nčn speäce do slowly shed + A glory roun' the wold vo'k dead. + + An' what if good vo'ks' life o' breath + Is zoo a-hallow'd after death, + That they mid only know above, + Their times o' faīth, an' ja˙, an' love, + While all the evil time ha' brought + 'S a-lost vor ever out o' thought; + As all the moon that idden bright, + 'S a-lost in darkness out o' zight; + And all the godly life they led + Is glory to the wold vo'k dead. + + If things be zoo, an' souls above + Can only mind our e'thly love, + Why then they'll veel our kindness drown + The thoughts ov all that meäde em frown. + An' ja˙ o' ja˙s will dry the tear + O' sadness that do trickle here, + An' nothčn mwore o' life than love, + An' peace, will then be know'd above. + Do good, vor that, when life's a-vled, + Is still a pleasure to the dead. + + + + +CULVER DELL AND THE SQUIRE. + + + There's noo pleäce I do like so well, + As Elem Knap in Culver Dell, + Where timber trees, wi' lofty shouds, + Did rise avore the western clouds; + An' stan' ageän, wi' veathery tops, + A-swayčn up in North-Hill Copse. + An' on the east the mornčn broke + Above a dewy grove o' woak: + An' noontide shed its burnčn light + On ashes on the southern height; + An' I could vind zome teäles to tell, + O' former days in Culver Dell. + + An' all the vo'k did love so well + The good wold squire o' Culver Dell, + That used to ramble drough the sheädes + O' timber, or the burnčn gleädes, + An' come at evenčn up the leäze + Wi' red-eär'd dogs bezide his knees. + An' hold his gun, a-hangčn drough + His eärmpit, out above his tooe. + Wi' kindly words upon his tongue, + Vor vo'k that met en, wold an' young, + Vor he did know the poor so well + 'S the richest vo'k in Culver Dell. + + An' while the woäk, wi' spreadčn head, + Did sheäde the foxes' verny bed; + An' runnčn heäres, in zunny gleädes, + Did beät the grasses' quiv'rčn' bleädes; + An' speckled pa'tridges took flight + In stubble vields a-feädčn white; + Or he could zee the pheasant strut + In sheädy woods, wi' paīnted cwoat; + Or long-tongued dogs did love to run + Among the leaves, bezide his gun; + We didden want vor call to dwell + At hwome in peace in Culver Dell. + + But now I hope his kindly feäce + Is gone to vind a better pleäce; + But still, wi' vo'k a-left behind + He'll always be a-kept in mind, + Vor all his springy-vooted hounds + Ha' done o' trottčn round his grounds, + An' we have all a-left the spot, + To teäke, a-scatter'd, each his lot; + An' even Father, lik' the rest, + Ha' left our long vorseäken nest; + An' we should vind it sad to dwell, + Ageän at hwome in Culver Dell. + + The aīry mornčns still mid smite + Our windows wi' their rwosy light, + An' high-zunn'd noons mid dry the dew + On growčn groun' below our shoe; + The blushčn evenčn still mid dye, + Wi' viry red, the western sky; + The zunny spring-time's quicknčn power + Mid come to oben leaf an' flower; + An' days an' tides mid bring us on + Woone pleasure when another's gone. + But we must bid a long farewell + To days an' tides in Culver Dell. + + + + +OUR BE'THPLACE. + + + How dear's the door a latch do shut, + An' geärden that a hatch do shut, + Where vu'st our bloomčn cheäks ha' prest + The pillor ov our childhood's rest; + Or where, wi' little tooes, we wore + The paths our fathers trod avore; + Or clim'd the timber's bark aloft, + Below the zingčn lark aloft, + The while we heärd the echo sound + Drough all the ringčn valley round. + + A lwonesome grove o' woak did rise, + To screen our house, where smoke did rise, + A-twistčn blue, while yeet the zun + Did langthen on our childhood's fun; + An' there, wi' all the sheäpes an' sounds + O' life, among the timber'd grounds, + The birds upon their boughs did zing, + An' milkmaīds by their cows did zing, + Wi' merry sounds, that softly died, + A-ringčn down the valley zide. + + By river banks, wi' reeds a-bound, + An' sheenčn pools, wi' weeds a-bound, + The long-neck'd gander's ruddy bill + To snow-white geese did cackle sh'ill; + An' stridčn peewits heästen'd by, + O' tiptooe wi' their screamčn cry; + An' stalkčn cows a-lowčn loud, + An' struttčn cocks a-crowčn loud, + Did rouse the echoes up to mock + Their mingled sounds by hill an' rock. + + The stars that clim'd our skies all dark, + Above our sleepčn eyes all dark, + An' zuns a-rollčn round to bring + The seasons on, vrom Spring to Spring, + Ha' vled, wi' never-restčn flight, + Drough green-bough'd day, an' dark-tree'd night; + Till now our childhood's pleäces there, + Be ga˙ wi' other feäces there, + An' we ourselves do vollow on + Our own vorelivers dead an' gone. + + + + +THE WINDOW FREÄM'D WI' STWONE. + + + When Pentridge House wer still the nest + O' souls that now ha' better rest, + Avore the viër burnt to ground + His beams an' walls, that then wer sound, + 'Ithin a naīl-bestudded door, + An' passage wi' a stwončn vloor, + There spread the hall, where zun-light shone + In drough a window freäm'd wi' stwone. + + A clavy-beam o' sheenčn woak + Did span the he'th wi' twistčn smoke, + Where fleämes did shoot in yollow streaks, + Above the brands, their flashčn peaks; + An' aunt did pull, as she did stand + O'-tip-tooe, wi' her lifted hand, + A curtain feäded wi' the zun, + Avore the window freäm'd wi' stwone. + + When Hwome-ground grass, below the moon, + Wer damp wi' evenčn dew in June, + An' aunt did call the maīdens in + Vrom walkčn, wi' their shoes too thin, + They zot to rest their litty veet + Upon the window's woaken seat, + An' chatted there, in light that shone + In drough the window freäm'd wi' stwone. + + An' as the seasons, in a ring, + Roll'd slowly roun' vrom Spring to Spring, + An' brought em on zome holy-tide, + When they did cast their tools azide; + How glad it meäde em all to spy + In Stwonylands their friends draw nigh, + As they did know em all by neäme + Out drough the window's stwončn freäme. + + O evenčn zun, a-ridčn drough + The sky, vrom Sh'oton Hill o' blue, + To leäve the night a-broodčn dark + At Stalbridge, wi' its grey-wall'd park; + Small ja˙ to me the vields do bring, + Vor all their zummer birds do zing, + Since now thy beams noo mwore do fleäme + In drough the window's stwončn freäme. + + + + +THE WATER-SPRING IN THE LEANE. + + + Oh! aye! the spring 'ithin the leäne, + A-leäden down to Lyddan Brook; + An' still a-nesslčn in his nook, + As weeks do pass, an' moons do weäne. + Nwone the drier, + Nwone the higher, + Nwone the nigher to the door + Where we did live so long avore. + + An' oh! what vo'k his mossy brim + Ha' gathered in the run o' time! + The wife a-blushčn in her prime; + The widow wi' her eyezight dim; + Maīdens dippčn, + Childern sippčn, + Water drippčn, at the cool + Dark wallčn ov the little pool. + + Behind the spring do lie the lands + My father till'd, vrom Spring to Spring, + Awäitčn on vor time to bring + The crops to pa˙ his weary hands. + Wheat a-growčn, + Beäns a-blowčn, + Grass vor mowčn, where the bridge + Do leäd to Ryall's on the ridge. + + But who do know when liv'd an' died + The squier o' the mwoldrčn hall; + That lined en wi' a stwončn wall, + An' steän'd so cleän his wat'ry zide? + We behind en, + Now can't vind en, + But do mind en, an' do thank + His meäker vor his little tank. + + + + +THE POPLARS. + + + If theäse day's work an' burnčn sky + 'V'a-zent hwome you so tired as I, + Let's zit an' rest 'ithin the screen + O' my wold bow'r upon the green; + Where I do goo myself an' let + The evenčn aiër cool my het, + When dew do wet the grasses bleädes, + A-quiv'rčn in the dusky sheädes. + + There yonder poplar trees do pla˙ + Soft music, as their heads do swa˙, + While wind, a-rustlčn soft or loud, + Do stream ageän their lofty sh'oud; + An' seem to heal the ranklčn zore + My mind do meet wi' out o' door, + When I've a-bore, in downcast mood, + Zome evil where I look'd vor good. + + O' they two poplars that do rise + So high avore our naīghbours' eyes, + A-zet by gramfer, hand by hand, + Wi' grammer, in their bit o' land; + The woone upon the western zide + Wer his, an' woone wer grammer's pride, + An' since they died, we all do teäke + Mwore ceäre o'm vor the wold vo'k's seäke. + + An' there, wi' stems a-growčn tall + Avore the houses mossy wall, + The while the moon ha' slowly past + The leafy window, they've a-cast + Their sheädes 'ithin the window peäne; + While childern have a-grown to men, + An' then ageän ha' left their beds, + To bear their childern's heavy heads. + + + + +THE LINDEN ON THE LAWN. + + + No! Jenny, there's noo pleäce to charm + My mind lik' yours at Woakland farm, + A-peärted vrom the busy town, + By longsome miles ov aīry down, + Where woonce the meshy wall did gird + Your flow'ry geärden, an' the bird + Did zing in zummer wind that stirr'd + The spreädčn linden on the lawn. + + An' now ov all the trees wi' sheädes + A-wheelčn round in Blackmwore gleädes, + There's noo tall poplar by the brook, + Nor elem that do rock the rook, + Nor ash upon the shelvčn ledge, + Nor low-bough'd woak bezide the hedge, + Nor withy up above the zedge, + So dear's thik linden on the lawn. + + Vor there, o' zummer nights, below + The wall, we zot when aīr did blow, + An' sheäke the dewy rwose a-tied + Up roun' the window's stwončn zide. + An' while the carter rod' along + A-zingčn, down the dusky drong, + There you did zing a sweeter zong + Below the linden on the lawn. + + An' while your warbled ditty wound + Drough pla˙some flights o' mellow sound, + The nightčngeäle's sh'ill zong, that broke + The stillness ov the dewy woak, + Rung clear along the grove, an' smote + To sudden stillness ev'ry droat; + As we did zit, an' hear it float + Below the linden on the lawn. + + Where dusky light did softly vall + 'Ithin the stwončn-window'd hall, + Avore your father's blinkčn eyes, + His evenčn whiff o' smoke did rise, + An' vrom the bedroom window's height + Your little John, a-cloth'd in white, + An' gwaīn to bed, did cry "good night" + Towards the linden on the lawn. + + But now, as Dobbin, wi' a nod + Vor ev'ry heavy step he trod, + Did bring me on, to-night, avore + The geäbled house's pworchčd door, + Noo laughčn child a-cloth'd in white, + Look'd drough the stwončn window's light, + An' noo vaīce zung, in dusky night, + Below the linden on the lawn. + + An' zoo, if you should ever vind + My kindness seem to grow less kind, + An' if upon my clouded feäce + My smile should yield a frown its pleäce, + Then, Jenny, only laugh an' call + My mind 'ithin the geärden wall, + Where we did pla˙ at even-fall, + Below the linden on the lawn. + + + + +OUR ABODE IN ARBY WOOD. + + + Though ice do hang upon the willows + Out bezide the vrozen brook, + An' storms do roar above our pillows, + Drough the night, 'ithin our nook; + Our evenčn he'th's a-glowčn warm, + Drough wringčn vrost, an' roarčn storm, + Though winds mid meäke the wold beams sheäke, + In our abode in Arby Wood. + + An' there, though we mid hear the timber + Creake avore the windy raīn; + An' climčn ivy quiver, limber, + Up ageän the window peäne; + Our merry vaīces then do sound, + In rollčn glee, or dree-vaīce round; + Though wind mid roar, 'ithout the door, + Ov our abode in Arby Wood. + + + + +SLOW TO COME, QUICK AGONE. + + + Ah! there's a house that I do know + Besouth o' yonder trees, + Where northern winds can hardly blow + But in a softest breeze. + An' there woonce sounded zongs an' teäles + Vrom vaīce o' maīd or youth, + An' sweeter than the nightčngeäle's + Above the copses lewth. + + How swiftly there did run the brooks, + How swift wer winds in flight, + How swiftly to their roost the rooks + Did vlee o'er head at night. + Though slow did seem to us the peäce + O' comčn days a-head, + That now do seem as in a reäce + Wi' aīr-birds to ha' vled. + + + + +THE VIER-ZIDE. + + + 'Tis zome vo'ks ja˙ to teäke the road, + An' goo abro'd, a-wand'rčn wide, + Vrom shere to shere, vrom pleäce to pleäce, + The swiftest peäce that vo'k can ride. + But I've a ja˙ 'ithin the door, + Wi' friends avore the vier-zide. + + An' zoo, when winter skies do lour, + An' when the Stour's a-rollčn wide, + Drough bridge-voot raīls, a-paīnted white, + To be at night the traveller's guide, + Gi'e me a pleäce that's warm an' dry, + A-zittčn nigh my vier-zide. + + Vor where do love o' kith an' kin, + At vu'st begin, or grow an' wride, + Till souls a-lov'd so young, be wold, + Though never cwold, drough time nor tide + But where in me'th their gather'd veet + Do often meet--the vier-zide. + + If, when a friend ha' left the land, + I shook his hand a-most wet-eyed, + I velt too well the ob'nčn door + Would leäd noo mwore where he did bide + An' where I heärd his vaīces sound, + In me'th around the vier-zide. + + As I've a-zeed how vast do vall + The mwold'rčn hall, the wold vo'ks pride, + Where merry hearts wer woonce a-ved + Wi' daily bread, why I've a-sigh'd, + To zee the wall so green wi' mwold, + An' vind so cwold the vier-zide. + + An' Chris'mas still mid bring his me'th + To ouer he'th, but if we tried + To gather all that woonce did wear + Gay feäces there! Ah! zome ha' died, + An' zome be gone to leäve wi' gaps + O' missčn laps, the vier-zide. + + But come now, bring us in your hand, + A heavy brand o' woak a-dried, + To cheer us wi' his het an' light, + While vrosty night, so starry-skied, + Go gather souls that time do speäre + To zit an' sheäre our vier-zide. + + + + +KNOWLWOOD. + + + I don't want to sleep abrode, John, + I do like my hwomeward road, John; + An' like the sound o' Knowlwood bells the best. + Zome would rove vrom pleäce to pleäce, John, + Zome would goo from feäce to feäce, John, + But I be happy in my hwomely nest; + An' slight's the hope vor any pleäce bezide, + To leäve the plaīn abode where love do bide. + + Where the shelvčn knap do vall, John, + Under trees a-springčn tall, John; + 'Tis there my house do show his sheenčn zide, + Wi' his walls vor ever green, John, + Under ivy that's a screen, John, + Vrom wet an' het, an' ev'ry changčn tide, + An' I do little ho vor goold or pride, + To leäve the plaīn abode where love do bide. + + There the bendčn stream do flow, John, + By the mossy bridge's bow, John; + An' there the road do wind below the hill; + There the miller, white wi' meal, John, + Deafen'd wi' his foamy wheel, John, + Do stan' o' times a-lookčn out o' mill: + The while 'ithin his lightly-sheäken door. + His wheatčn flour do whitčn all his floor. + + When my daily work's a-done, John, + At the zettčn o' the zun, John, + An' I all day 've a-pla˙'d a good man's peärt, + I do vind my ease a-blest, John, + While my conscience is at rest, John; + An' while noo worm's a-left to fret my heart; + An' who vor finer hwomes o' restless pride, + Would pass the plaīn abode where peace do bide? + + By a windor in the west, John, + There upon my fiddle's breast, John, + The strings do sound below my bow's white heäir; + While a zingčn drush do swa˙, John, + Up an' down upon a spra˙, John, + An' cast his sheäde upon the window square; + Vor birds do know their friends, an' build their nest, + An' love to roost, where they can live at rest. + + Out o' town the win' do bring, John, + Peals o' bells when they do ring, John, + An' roun' me here, at hand, my ear can catch + The maīd a-zingčn by the stream, John, + Or carter whislčn wi' his team, John, + Or zingčn birds, or water at the hatch; + An' zoo wi' sounds o' vaīce, an' bird an' bell, + Noo hour is dull 'ithin our rwosy dell. + + An' when the darksome night do hide, John, + Land an' wood on ev'ry zide, John; + An' when the light's a-burnčn on my bwoard, + Then vor pleasures out o' door, John, + I've enough upon my vloor, John: + My Jenny's lovčn deed, an' look, an' word, + An' we be lwoth, lik' culvers zide by zide, + To leäve the plaīn abode where love do bide. + + + + +HALLOWED PLEÄCES. + + + At Woodcombe farm, wi' ground an' tree + Hallow'd by times o' youthvul glee, + At Chris'mas time I spent a night + Wi' feäces dearest to my zight; + An' took my wife to tread, woonce mwore, + Her maīden hwome's vorseäken vloor, + An' under stars that slowly wheel'd + Aloft, above the keen-aīr'd vield, + While night bedimm'd the rus'lčn copse, + An' darken'd all the ridges' tops, + The hall, a-hung wi' holly, rung + Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young. + + There, on the he'th's well-hetted ground, + Hallow'd by times o' zittčn round, + The brimvul mug o' cider stood + An' hiss'd avore the bleäzčn wood; + An' zome, a-zittčn knee by knee, + Did tell their teäles wi' hearty glee, + An' others gamboll'd in a roar + O' laughter on the stwončn vloor; + An' while the moss o' winter-tide + Clung chilly roun' the house's zide, + The hall, a-hung wi' holly, rung + Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young. + + There, on the pworches bench o' stwone, + Hallow'd by times o' youthvul fun, + We laugh'd an' sigh'd to think o' neämes + That rung there woonce, in evenčn geämes; + An' while the swa˙čn cypress bow'd, + In chilly wind, his darksome sh'oud + An' honeyzuckles, beäre o' leäves, + Still reach'd the window-sheädčn eaves + Up where the clematis did trim + The stwončn arches mossy rim, + The hall, a-hung wi' holly, rung + Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young. + + There, in the geärden's wall-bound square, + Hallow'd by times o' strollčn there, + The winter wind, a-hufflčn loud, + Did swa˙ the pear-tree's leafless sh'oud, + An' beät the bush that woonce did bear + The damask rwose vor Jenny's heäir; + An' there the walk o' peävčn stwone + That burn'd below the zummer zun, + Struck icy-cwold drough shoes a-wore + By maīdens vrom the hetted vloor + In hall, a-hung wi' holm, where rung + Vull many a tongue o' wold an' young. + + There at the geäte that woonce wer blue + Hallow'd by times o' passčn drough, + Light strawmotes rose in flaggčn flight, + A-floated by the winds o' night, + Where leafy ivy-stems did crawl + In moonlight on the windblown wall, + An' merry maīdens' vaīces vled + In echoes sh'ill, vrom wall to shed, + As shiv'rčn in their frocks o' white + They come to bid us there "Good night," + Vrom hall, a-hung wi' holm, that rung + Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young. + + There in the narrow leäne an' drong + Hallow'd by times o' gwaīn along, + The lofty ashes' leafless sh'ouds + Rose dark avore the clear-edged clouds, + The while the moon, at girtest height, + Bespread the pooly brook wi' light, + An' as our child, in loose-limb'd rest, + Lay peäle upon her mother's breast, + Her waxen eyelids seal'd her eyes + Vrom darksome trees, an' sheenčn skies, + An' halls a-hung wi' holm, that rung + Wi' many a tongue, o' wold an' young. + + + + +THE WOLD WALL. + + + Here, Jeäne, we vu'st did meet below + The leafy boughs, a-swingčn slow, + Avore the zun, wi' evenčn glow, + Above our road, a-beamčn red; + The grass in zwath wer in the meäds, + The water gleam'd among the reeds + In aīr a-steälčn roun' the hall, + Where ivy clung upon the wall. + Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu! + The wall is wold, my grief is new. + + An' there you walk'd wi' blushčn pride, + Where softly-wheelčn streams did glide, + Drough sheädes o' poplars at my zide, + An' there wi' love that still do live, + Your feäce did wear the smile o' youth, + The while you spoke wi' age's truth, + An' wi' a rwosebud's mossy ball, + I deck'd your bosom vrom the wall. + Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu! + The wall is wold, my grief is new. + + But now when winter's raīn do vall, + An' wind do beät ageän the hall, + The while upon the wat'ry wall + In spots o' grey the moss do grow; + The ruf noo mwore shall overspread + The pillor ov our weary head, + Nor shall the rwose's mossy ball + Behang vor you the house's wall. + Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu! + The wall is wold, my grief is new. + + + + +BLEÄKE'S HOUSE IN BLACKMWORE. + + + John Bleäke he had a bit o' ground + Come to en by his mother's zide; + An' after that, two hunderd pound + His uncle left en when he died; + "Well now," cried John, "my mind's a-bent + To build a house, an' pa˙ noo rent." + An' Meäry gi'ed en her consent. + "Do, do,"--the maīdens cried + "True, true,"--his wife replied. + "Done, done,--a house o' brick or stwone," + Cried merry Bleäke o' Blackmwore. + + Then John he call'd vor men o' skill, + An' builders answer'd to his call; + An' met to reckon, each his bill; + Vor vloor an' window, ruf an' wall. + An' woone did mark it on the groun', + An' woone did think, an' scratch his crown, + An' reckon work, an' write it down: + "Zoo, zoo,"--woone treädesman cried, + "True, true,"--woone mwore replied. + "Aye, aye,--good work, an' have good pa˙," + Cried merry Bleäke o' Blackmwore. + + The work begun, an' trowels rung, + An' up the brickčn wall did rise, + An' up the slantčn refters sprung, + Wi' busy blows, an' lusty cries! + An' woone brought planks to meäke a vloor, + An' woone did come wi' durns or door, + An' woone did zaw, an' woone did bore, + "Brick, brick,--there down below, + Quick, quick,--why b'ye so slow?" + "Lime, lime,--why we do weäste the time, + Vor merry Bleäke o' Blackmwore." + + The house wer up vrom groun' to tun, + An' thatch'd ageän the raīny sky, + Wi' windows to the noonday zun, + Where rushy Stour do wander by. + In coo'se he had a pworch to screen + The inside door, when win's wer keen, + An' out avore the pworch, a green. + "Here! here!"--the childern cried: + "Dear! dear!"--the wife replied; + "There, there,--the house is perty feäir," + Cried merry Bleäke o' Blackmwore. + + Then John he ax'd his friends to warm + His house, an' they, a goodish batch, + Did come alwone, or eärm in eärm, + All roads, a-meäkčn vor his hatch: + An' there below the clavy beam + The kettle-spout did zing an' steam; + An' there wer ceäkes, an' tea wi' cream. + "Lo! lo!"--the women cried; + "Ho! ho!"--the men replied; + "Health, health,--attend ye wi' your wealth, + Good merry Bleäke o' Blackmwore." + + Then John, a-praīs'd, flung up his crown, + All back a-laughčn in a roar. + They praīs'd his wife, an' she look'd down + A-simperčn towards the vloor. + Then up they sprung a-dancčn reels, + An' up went tooes, an' up went heels, + A-windčn roun' in knots an' wheels. + "Brisk, brisk,"--the maīdens cried; + "Frisk, frisk,"--the men replied; + "Quick, quick,--there wi' your fiddle-stick," + Cried merry Bleäke o' Blackmwore. + + An' when the morrow's zun did sheen, + John Bleäke beheld, wi' ja˙ an' pride, + His brickčn house, an' pworch, an' green, + Above the Stour's rushy zide. + The zwallows left the lwonesome groves, + To build below the thatchčn oves, + An' robins come vor crumbs o' lwoaves: + "Tweet, tweet,"--the birds all cried; + "Sweet, sweet,"--John's wife replied; + "Dad, dad,"--the childern cried so glad, + To merry Bleäke o' Blackmwore. + + + + +JOHN BLEÄKE AT HWOME AT NIGHT. + + + No: where the woak do overspread, + The grass begloom'd below his head, + An' water, under bowčn zedge, + A-springčn vrom the river's edge, + Do ripple, as the win' do blow, + An' sparkle, as the sky do glow; + An' grey-leav'd withy-boughs do cool, + Wi' darksome sheädes, the clear-feäced pool, + My chimny smoke, 'ithin the lew + O' trees is there arisčn blue; + Avore the night do dim our zight, + Or candle-light, a-sheenčn bright, + Do sparkle drough the window. + + When crumpled leaves o' Fall do bound + Avore the wind, along the ground, + An' wither'd bennet-stems do stand + A-quiv'rčn on the chilly land; + The while the zun, wi' zettčn rim, + Do leäve the workman's pathway dim; + An' sweet-breath'd childern's hangčn heads + Be laid wi' kisses, on their beds; + Then I do seek my woodland nest, + An' zit bezide my vier at rest, + While night's a-spread, where day's a-vled, + An' lights do shed their beams o' red, + A-sparklčn drough the window. + + If winter's whistlčn winds do vreeze + The snow a-gather'd on the trees, + An' sheädes o' poplar stems do vall + In moonlight up athirt the wall; + An' icicles do hang below + The oves, a-glitt'rčn in a row, + An' risčn stars do slowly ride + Above the ruf's upslantčn zide; + Then I do lay my weary head + Asleep upon my peaceful bed, + When middle-night ha' quench'd the light + Ov embers bright, an' candles white + A-beamčn drough the window. + + + + +MILKEN TIME. + + + 'Twer when the busy birds did vlee, + Wi' sheenčn wings, vrom tree to tree, + To build upon the mossy lim', + Their hollow nestes' rounded rim; + The while the zun, a-zinkčn low, + Did roll along his evenčn bow, + I come along where wide-horn'd cows, + 'Ithin a nook, a-screen'd by boughs, + Did stan' an' flip the white-hoop'd paīls + Wi' heäiry tufts o' swingčn taīls; + An' there wer Jenny Coom a-gone + Along the path a vew steps on. + A-beärčn on her head, upstraīght, + Her paīl, wi' slowly-ridčn waīght, + An' hoops a-sheenčn, lily-white, + Ageän the evenčn's slantčn light; + An' zo I took her paīl, an' left + Her neck a-freed vrom all his heft; + An' she a-lookčn up an' down, + Wi' sheäpely head an' glossy crown, + Then took my zide, an' kept my peäce + A-talkčn on wi' smilčn feäce, + An' zettčn things in sich a light, + I'd faīn ha' heär'd her talk all night; + An' when I brought her milk avore + The geäte, she took it in to door, + An' if her paīl had but allow'd + Her head to vall, she would ha' bow'd, + An' still, as 'twer, I had the zight + Ov her sweet smile droughout the night. + + + + +WHEN BIRDS BE STILL. + + + Vor all the zun do leäve the sky, + An' all the sounds o' day do die, + An' noo mwore veet do walk the dim + Vield-path to clim' the stiel's bars, + Yeet out below the rizčn stars, + The dark'nčn day mid leäve behind + Woone tongue that I shall always vind, + A-whisperčn kind, when birds be still. + + Zoo let the day come on to spread + His kindly light above my head, + Wi' zights to zee, an' sounds to hear, + That still do cheer my thoughtvul mind; + Or let en goo, an' leäve behind + An' hour to stroll along the gleädes, + Where night do drown the beeches' sheädes, + On grasses' bleädes, when birds be still. + + Vor when the night do lull the sound + O' cows a-bleärčn out in ground, + The sh'ill-vaīc'd dog do stan' an' bark + 'Ithin the dark, bezide the road; + An' when noo cracklčn waggon's lwoad + Is in the leäne, the wind do bring + The merry peals that bells do ring + O ding-dong-ding, when birds be still. + + Zoo teäke, vor me, the town a-drown'd, + 'Ithin a storm o' rumblčn sound, + An' gi'e me vaīces that do speak + So soft an' meek, to souls alwone; + The brook a-gurglčn round a stwone, + An' birds o' day a-zingčn clear, + An' leaves, that I mid zit an' hear + A-rustlčn near, when birds be still. + + + + +RIDEN HWOME AT NIGHT. + + + Oh! no, I quite inja˙'d the ride + Behind wold Dobbin's heavy heels, + Wi' Jeäne a-prattlčn at my zide, + Above our peäir o' spinnčn wheels, + As grey-rin'd ashes' swa˙čn tops + Did creak in moonlight in the copse, + Above the quiv'rčn grass, a-beät + By wind a-blowčn drough the geät. + + If weary souls did want their sleep, + They had a-zent vor sleep the night; + Vor vo'k that had a call to keep + Awake, lik' us, there still wer light. + An' He that shut the sleepers' eyes, + A-waītčn vor the zun to rise, + Ha' too much love to let em know + The ling'rčn night did goo so slow. + + But if my wife did catch a zight + O' zome queer pollard, or a post, + Poor soul! she took en in her fright + To be a robber or a ghost. + A two-stump'd withy, wi' a head, + Mus' be a man wi' eärms a-spread; + An' foam o' water, round a rock, + Wer then a drownčn leädy's frock. + + Zome staddle stwones to bear a mow, + Wer dancčn veäries on the lag; + An' then a snow-white sheeted cow + Could only be, she thought, their flag, + An owl a-vlečn drough the wood + Wer men on watch vor little good; + An' geätes a slam'd by wind, did goo, + She thought, to let a robber drough. + + But after all, she lik'd the zight + O' cows asleep in glitt'rčn dew; + An' brooks that gleam'd below the light, + An' dim vield paths 'ithout a shoe. + An' gaīly talk'd bezide my ears, + A-laughčn off her needless fears: + Or had the childern uppermost + In mind, instead o' thief or ghost. + + An' when our house, wi' open door, + Did rumble hollow round our heads, + She heästen'd up to tother vloor, + To zee the childern in their beds; + An' vound woone little head awry, + Wi' woone a-turn'd toward the sky; + An' wrung her hands ageän her breast, + A-smilčn at their happy rest. + + + + +ZUN-ZET. + + + Where the western zun, unclouded, + Up above the grey hill-tops, + Did sheen drough ashes, lofty sh'ouded + On the turf bezide the copse, + In zummer weather, + We together, + Sorrow-slightčn, work-vorgettčn. + Gambol'd wi' the zun a-zetten. + + There, by flow'ry bows o' bramble, + Under hedge, in ash-tree sheädes, + The dun-heaīr'd ho'se did slowly ramble + On the grasses' dewy bleädes, + Zet free o' lwoads, + An' stwony rwoads, + Vorgetvul o' the lashes frettčn, + Grazčn wi' the zun a-zettčn. + + There wer rooks a-beätčn by us + Drough the aīr, in a vlock, + An' there the lively blackbird, nigh us, + On the meäple bough did rock, + Wi' ringčn droat, + Where zunlight smote + The yollow boughs o' zunny hedges + Over western hills' blue edges. + + Waters, drough the meäds a-purlčn, + Glissen'd in the evenčn's light, + An' smoke, above the town a-curlčn, + Melted slowly out o' zight; + An' there, in glooms + Ov unzunn'd rooms, + To zome, wi' idle sorrows frettčn, + Zuns did set avore their zettčn. + + We were out in geämes and reäces, + Loud a-laughčn, wild in me'th, + Wi' windblown heäir, an' zunbrown'd feäces, + Leäpen on the high-sky'd e'th, + Avore the lights + Wer tin'd o' nights, + An' while the gossamer's light nettčn + Sparkled to the zun a-zettčn. + + + + +SPRING. + + + Now the zunny aīr's a-blowčn + Softly over flowers a-growčn; + An' the sparklčn light do quiver + On the ivy-bough an' river; + Bleätčn lambs, wi' woolly feäces, + Now do pla˙, a-runnčn reäces; + An' the springčn + Lark's a-zingčn, + Lik' a dot avore the cloud, + High above the ashes sh'oud. + + Housčn, in the open brightness, + Now do sheen in spots o' whiteness; + Here an' there, on upland ledges, + In among the trees an' hedges, + Where, along by vlocks o' sparrows, + Chatt'rčn at the ploughman's harrows. + Dousty rwoaded, + Errand-lwoaded; + Jenny, though her cloak is thin, + Do wish en hwome upon the pin. + + Zoo come along, noo longer heedvul + Ov the viër, leätely needvul, + Over grass o' slopčn leäzes, + Zingčn zongs in zunny breezes; + Out to work in copse, a-mootčn, + Where the primrwose is a-shootčn, + An in gladness, + Free o' sadness, + In the warmth o' Spring vorget + Leafless winter's cwold an' wet. + + + + +THE ZUMMER HEDGE. + + + As light do gleäre in ev'ry ground, + Wi' boughy hedges out a-round + A-climmčn up the slopčn brows + O' hills, in rows o' sheädy boughs: + The while the hawthorn buds do blow + As thick as stars, an' white as snow; + Or cream-white blossoms be a-spread + About the guelder-rwoses' head; + How cool's the sheäde, or warm's the lewth, + Bezide a zummer hedge in blooth. + + When we've a-work'd drough longsome hours, + Till dew's a-dried vrom dazzlčn flow'rs, + The while the climmčn zun ha' glow'd + Drough mwore than half his daily road: + Then where the sheädes do slily pass + Athirt our veet upon the grass, + As we do rest by lofty ranks + Ov elems on the flow'ry banks; + How cool's the sheäde, or warm's the lewth, + Bezide a zummer hedge in blooth. + + But oh! below woone hedge's zide + Our ja˙ do come a-most to pride; + Out where the high-stemm'd trees do stand, + In row bezide our own free land, + An' where the wide-leav'd clote mid zwim + 'Ithin our water's rushy rim: + An' raīn do vall, an' zuns do burn, + An' each in season, and in turn, + To cool the sheäde or warm the lewth + Ov our own zummer hedge in blooth. + + How soft do sheäke the zummer hedge-- + How soft do sway the zummer zedge-- + How bright be zummer skies an' zun-- + How bright the zummer brook do run; + An' feäir the flow'rs do bloom, to feäde + Behind the swa˙en mower's bleäde; + An' sweet be merry looks o' ja˙, + By weäles an' pooks o' June's new ha˙, + Wi' smilčn age, an laughčn youth, + Bezide the zummer hedge in blooth. + + + + +THE WATER CROWVOOT. + + + O' small-feäc'd flow'r that now dost bloom + To stud wi' white the shallow Frome, + An' leäve the clote to spread his flow'r + On darksome pools o' stwoneless Stour, + When sof'ly-rizčn aīrs do cool + The water in the sheenčn pool, + Thy beds o' snow-white buds do gleam + So feäir upon the sky-blue stream, + As whitest clouds, a-hangčn high + Avore the blueness o' the sky; + An' there, at hand, the thin-heäir'd cows, + In aīry sheädes o' withy boughs, + Or up bezide the mossy raīls, + Do stan' an' zwing their heavy taīls, + The while the ripplčn stream do flow + Below the dousty bridge's bow; + An' quiv'rčn water-gleams do mock + The weäves, upon the sheäded rock; + An' up athirt the copčn stwone + The laītren bwoy do leän alwone, + A-watchčn, wi' a stedvast look, + The vallčn waters in the brook, + The while the zand o' time do run + An' leäve his errand still undone. + An' oh! as long's thy buds would gleam + Above the softly-slidčn stream, + While sparklčn zummer-brooks do run + Below the lofty-climčn zun, + I only wish that thou could'st sta˙ + Vor noo man's harm, an' all men's ja˙. + But no, the waterman 'ull weäde + Thy water wi' his deadly bleäde, + To slay thee even in thy bloom, + Fair small-feäced flower o' the Frome. + + + + +THE LILAC. + + + Dear lilac-tree, a-spreadčn wide + Thy purple blooth on ev'ry zide, + As if the hollow sky did shed + Its blue upon thy flow'ry head; + Oh! whether I mid sheäre wi' thee + Thy open aīr, my bloomčn tree, + Or zee thy blossoms vrom the gloom, + 'Ithin my zunless workčn-room, + My heart do leäp, but leäp wi' sighs, + At zight o' thee avore my eyes, + For when thy grey-blue head do swa˙ + In cloudless light, 'tis Spring, 'tis Ma˙. + + 'Tis Spring, 'tis Ma˙, as Ma˙ woonce shed + His glowčn light above thy head-- + When thy green boughs, wi' bloomy tips, + Did sheäde my childern's laughčn lips; + A-screenčn vrom the noonday gleäre + Their rwosy cheäks an' glossy heäir; + The while their mother's needle sped, + Too quick vor zight, the snow-white thread, + Unless her han', wi' lovčn ceäre, + Did smooth their little heads o' heäir; + + Or wi' a sheäke, tie up anew + Vor zome wild voot, a slippčn shoe; + An' I did leän bezide thy mound + Ageän the deäsy-dappled ground, + The while the woaken clock did tick + My hour o' rest away too quick, + An' call me off to work anew, + Wi' slowly-ringčn strokes, woone, two. + + Zoo let me zee noo darksome cloud + Bedim to-day thy flow'ry sh'oud, + But let en bloom on ev'ry spra˙, + Drough all the days o' zunny Ma˙. + + + + +THE BLACKBIRD. + + + 'Twer out at Penley I'd a-past + A zummer day that went too vast, + An' when the zettčn zun did spread + On western clouds a vi'ry red; + The elems' leafy limbs wer still + Above the gravel-bedded rill, + An' under en did warble sh'ill, + Avore the dusk, the blackbird. + + An' there, in sheädes o' darksome yews, + Did vlee the maīdens on their tooes, + A-laughčn sh'ill wi' merry feäce + When we did vind their hidčn pleäce. + 'Ithin the loose-bough'd ivys gloom, + Or lofty lilac, vull in bloom, + Or hazzle-wrides that gi'ed em room + Below the zingčn blackbird. + + Above our heads the rooks did vlee + To reach their nested elem-tree, + An' splashčn vish did rise to catch + The wheelčn gnots above the hatch; + An' there the miller went along, + A-smilčn, up the sheädy drong, + But yeet too deaf to hear the zong + A-zung us by the blackbird. + + An' there the sh'illy-bubblčn brook + Did leäve behind his rocky nook, + To run drough meäds a-chill'd wi' dew, + Vrom hour to hour the whole night drough; + But still his murmurs wer a-drown'd + By vaīces that mid never sound + Ageän together on that ground, + Wi' whislčns o' the blackbird. + + + + +THE SLANTČN LIGHT O' FALL. + + + Ah! Jeäne, my maīd, I stood to you, + When you wer christen'd, small an' light, + Wi' tiny eärms o' red an' blue, + A-hangčn in your robe o' white. + We brought ye to the hallow'd stwone, + Vor Christ to teäke ye vor his own, + When harvest work wer all a-done, + An' time brought round October zun-- + The slantčn light o' Fall. + + An' I can mind the wind wer rough, + An' gather'd clouds, but brought noo storms, + An' you did nessle warm enough, + 'Ithin your smilčn mother's eärms. + The whindlčn grass did quiver light, + Among the stubble, feäded white, + An' if at times the zunlight broke + Upon the ground, or on the vo'k, + 'Twer slantčn light o' Fall. + + An' when we brought ye drough the door + O' Knapton Church, a child o' greäce, + There cluster'd round a'most a score + O' vo'k to zee your tiny feäce. + An' there we all did veel so proud, + To zee an' op'nčn in the cloud, + An' then a stream o' light break drough, + A-sheenčn brightly down on you-- + The slantčn light o' Fall. + + But now your time's a-come to stand + In church, a-blushčn at my zide, + The while a bridegroom vrom my hand + Ha' took ye vor his faīthvul bride. + Your christčn neäme we gi'd ye here, + When Fall did cool the weästčn year; + An' now, ageän, we brought ye drough + The doorway, wi' your surneäme new, + In slantčn light o' Fall. + + An' zoo vur, Jeäne, your life is feäir, + An' God ha' been your steadvast friend, + An' mid ye have mwore ja˙ than ceäre, + Vor ever, till your journey's end. + An' I've a-watch'd ye on wi' pride, + But now I soon mus' leäve your zide, + Vor you ha' still life's spring-tide zun, + But my life, Jeäne, is now a-run + To slantčn light o' Fall. + + + + +THISSLEDOWN. + + + The thissledown by wind's a-roll'd + In Fall along the zunny plaīn, + Did catch the grass, but lose its hold, + Or cling to bennets, but in vaīn. + + But when it zwept along the grass, + An' zunk below the hollow's edge, + It lay at rest while winds did pass + Above the pit-bescreenčn ledge. + + The plaīn ha' brightness wi' his strife, + The pit is only dark at best, + There's pleasure in a worksome life, + An' sloth is tiresome wi' its rest. + + Zoo, then, I'd sooner beär my peärt, + Ov all the trials vo'k do rue, + Than have a deadness o' the heart, + Wi' nothčn mwore to veel or do. + + + + +THE MAY-TREE. + + + I've a-come by the Ma˙-tree all times o' the year, + When leaves wer a-springčn, + When vrost wer a-stingčn, + When cool-winded mornčn did show the hills clear, + When night wer bedimmčn the vields vur an' near. + + When, in zummer, his head wer as white as a sheet, + Wi' white buds a-zwellčn, + An' blossom, sweet-smellčn, + While leaves wi' green leaves on his bough-zides did meet, + A-sheädčn the deäisies down under our veet. + + When the zun, in the Fall, wer a-wanderčn wan, + An' haws on his head + Did sprinkle en red, + Or bright drops o' raīn wer a-hung loosely on, + To the tips o' the sprigs when the scud wer a-gone. + + An' when, in the winter, the zun did goo low, + An' keen win' did huffle, + But never could ruffle + The hard vrozen feäce o' the water below, + His limbs wer a-fringed wi' the vrost or the snow. + + + + +LYDLINCH BELLS. + + + When skies wer peäle wi' twinklčn stars, + An' whislčn aīr a-risčn keen; + An' birds did leäve the icy bars + To vind, in woods, their mossy screen; + When vrozen grass, so white's a sheet, + Did scrunchy sharp below our veet, + An' water, that did sparkle red + At zunzet, wer a-vrozen dead; + The ringers then did spend an hour + A-ringčn changes up in tow'r; + Vor Lydlinch bells be good vor sound, + An' liked by all the naīghbours round. + + An' while along the leafless boughs + O' ruslčn hedges, win's did pass, + An' orts ov ha˙, a-left by cows, + Did russle on the vrozen grass, + An' maīdens' paīls, wi' all their work + A-done, did hang upon their vurk, + An' they, avore the fleämčn brand, + Did teäke their needle-work in hand, + The men did cheer their heart an hour + A-ringčn changes up in tow'r; + Vor Lydlinch bells be good vor sound, + An' liked by all the naīghbours round. + + There sons did pull the bells that rung + Their mothers' weddčn peals avore, + The while their fathers led em young + An' blushčn vrom the churches door, + An' still did cheem, wi' happy sound, + As time did bring the Zundays round, + An' call em to the holy pleäce + Vor heav'nly gifts o' peace an' greäce; + An' vo'k did come, a-streamčn slow + Along below the trees in row, + While they, in merry peals, did sound + The bells vor all the naīghbours round. + + An' when the bells, wi' changčn peal, + Did smite their own vo'ks window-peänes, + Their sof'en'd sound did often steal + Wi' west winds drough the Bagber leänes; + Or, as the win' did shift, mid goo + Where woody Stock do nessle lew, + Or where the risčn moon did light + The walls o' Thornhill on the height; + An' zoo, whatever time mid bring + To meäke their vive clear vaīces zing, + Still Lydlinch bells wer good vor sound, + An' liked by all the naīghbours round. + + + + +THE STAGE COACH. + + + Ah! when the wold vo'k went abroad + They thought it vast enough, + If vow'r good ho'ses beät the road + Avore the coach's ruf; + An' there they zot, + A-cwold or hot, + An' roll'd along the ground, + While the whip did smack + On the ho'ses' back, + An' the wheels went swiftly round, Good so's; + The wheels went swiftly round. + + Noo iron raīls did streak the land + To keep the wheels in track. + The coachman turn'd his vow'r-in-hand, + Out right, or left, an' back; + An' he'd stop avore + A man's own door, + To teäke en up or down: + While the reīns vell slack + On the ho'ses' back, + Till the wheels did rottle round ageän; + Till the wheels did rottle round. + + An' there, when wintry win' did blow, + Athirt the plaīn an' hill, + An' the zun wer peäle above the snow, + An' ice did stop the mill, + They did laugh an' joke + Wi' cwoat or cloke, + So warmly roun' em bound, + While the whip did crack + On the ho'ses' back, + An' the wheels did trundle round, d'ye know; + The wheels did trundle round. + + An' when the rumblčn coach did pass + Where hufflčn winds did roar, + They'd stop to teäke a warmčn glass + By the sign above the door; + An' did laugh an' joke + An' ax the vo'k + The miles they wer vrom town, + Till the whip did crack + On the ho'ses back, + An' the wheels did truckle roun', good vo'k; + The wheels did truckle roun'. + + An' gaīly rod wold age or youth, + When zummer light did vall + On woods in leaf, or trees in blooth, + Or girt vo'ks parkzide wall. + An' they thought they past + The pleäces vast, + Along the dousty groun', + When the whip did smack + On the ho'ses' back, + An' the wheels spun swiftly roun'. Them days + The wheels spun swiftly roun'. + + + + +WAYFEAREN. + + + The sky wer clear, the zunsheen glow'd + On droopčn flowers drough the day, + As I did beät the dousty road + Vrom hinder hills, a-feädčn gray; + Drough hollows up the hills, + Vrom knaps along by mills, + Vrom mills by churches tow'rs, wi' bells + That twold the hours to woody dells. + + An' when the windčn road do guide + The thirsty vootman where mid flow + The water vrom a rock bezide + His vootsteps, in a sheenčn bow; + The hand a-hollow'd up + Do beät a goolden cup, + To catch an' drink it, bright an' cool, + A-vallčn light 'ithin the pool. + + Zoo when, at last, I hung my head + Wi' thirsty lips a-burnčn dry, + I come bezide a river-bed + Where water flow'd so blue's the sky; + An' there I meäde me up + O' coltsvoot leaf a cup, + Where water vrom his lip o' gray, + Wer sweet to sip thik burnčn day. + + But when our work is right, a ja˙ + Do come to bless us in its traīn, + An' hardships ha' zome good to pa˙ + The thoughtvul soul vor all their päin: + The het do sweetčn sheäde, + An' weary lim's ha' meäde + A bed o' slumber, still an' sound, + By woody hill or grassy mound. + + An' while I zot in sweet delay + Below an elem on a hill, + Where boughs a-halfway up did swa˙ + In sheädes o' lim's above em still, + An' blue sky show'd between + The flutt'rčn leäves o' green; + I woulden gi'e that gloom an' sheäde + Vor any room that weälth ha' meäde. + + But oh! that vo'k that have the roads + Where weary-vooted souls do pass, + Would leäve bezide the stwone vor lwoads, + A little strip vor zummer grass; + That when the stwones do bruise + An' burn an' gall our tooes, + We then mid cool our veet on beds + O' wild-thyme sweet, or deäisy-heads. + + + + +THE LEANE. + + + They do zay that a travellčn chap + Have a-put in the newspeäper now, + That the bit o' green ground on the knap + Should be all a-took in vor the plough. + He do fancy 'tis easy to show + That we can be but stunpolls at best, + Vor to leäve a green spot where a flower can grow, + Or a voot-weary walker mid rest. + Tis hedge-grubbčn, Thomas, an' ledge-grubbčn, + Never a-done + While a sov'rčn mwore's to be won. + + The road, he do zay, is so wide + As 'tis wanted vor travellers' wheels, + As if all that did travel did ride + An' did never get galls on their heels. + He would leäve sich a thin strip o' groun', + That, if a man's veet in his shoes + Wer a-burnčn an' zore, why he coulden zit down + But the wheels would run over his tooes. + Vor 'tis meäke money, Thomas, an' teäke money, + What's zwold an' bought + Is all that is worthy o' thought. + + Years agoo the leäne-zides did bear grass, + Vor to pull wi' the geeses' red bills, + That did hiss at the vo'k that did pass, + Or the bwoys that pick'd up their white quills. + But shortly, if vower or vive + Ov our goslčns do creep vrom the agg, + They must mwope in the geärden, mwore dead than alive, + In a coop, or a-tied by the lag. + Vor to catch at land, Thomas, an' snatch at land, + Now is the plan; + Meäke money wherever you can. + + The childern wull soon have noo pleäce + Vor to pla˙ in, an' if they do grow, + They wull have a thin musheroom feäce, + Wi' their bodies so sumple as dough. + But a man is a-meäde ov a child, + An' his limbs do grow worksome by pla˙; + An' if the young child's little body's a-spweil'd, + Why, the man's wull the sooner deca˙. + But wealth is wo'th now mwore than health is wo'th; + Let it all goo, + If't 'ull bring but a sov'rčn or two. + + Vor to breed the young fox or the heäre, + We can gi'e up whole eäcres o' ground, + But the greens be a-grudg'd, vor to rear + Our young childern up healthy an' sound, + Why, there woont be a-left the next age + A green spot where their veet can goo free; + An' the goocoo wull soon be committed to cage + Vor a trespass in zomebody's tree. + Vor 'tis lockčn up, Thomas, an' blockčn up, + Stranger or brother, + Men mussen come nigh woone another. + + Woone day I went in at a geäte, + Wi' my child, where an echo did sound, + An' the owner come up, an' did reäte + Me as if I would car off his ground. + But his vield an' the grass wer a-let, + An' the damage that he could a-took + Wer at mwost that the while I did open the geäte + I did rub roun' the eye on the hook. + But 'tis drevčn out, Thomas, an' hevčn out. + Trample noo grounds, + Unless you be after the hounds. + + Ah! the Squiër o' Culver-dell Hall + Wer as diff'rent as light is vrom dark, + Wi' zome vo'k that, as evenčn did vall, + Had a-broke drough long grass in his park; + Vor he went, wi' a smile, vor to meet + Wi' the trespassers while they did pass, + An' he zaid, "I do fear you'll catch cwold in your veet, + You've a-walk'd drough so much o' my grass." + His mild words, Thomas, cut em like swords, Thomas, + Newly a-whet, + An' went vurder wi' them than a dreat. + + + + +THE RAILROAD. + + + I took a flight, awhile agoo, + Along the raīls, a stage or two, + An' while the heavy wheels did spin + An' rottle, wi' a deafnčn din, + In clouds o' steam, the zweepčn traīn + Did shoot along the hill-bound plaīn, + As sheädes o' birds in flight, do pass + Below em on the zunny grass. + An' as I zot, an' look'd abrode + On leänen land an' windčn road, + The ground a-spread along our flight + Did vlee behind us out o' zight; + The while the zun, our heav'nly guide, + Did ride on wi' us, zide by zide. + An' zoo, while time, vrom stage to stage, + Do car us on vrom youth to age, + The e'thly pleasures we do vind + Be soon a-met, an' left behind; + But God, beholdčn vrom above + Our lowly road, wi' yearnčn love, + Do keep bezide us, stage by stage, + Vrom be'th to youth, vrom youth to age. + + + + +THE RAILROAD. + + + An' while I went 'ithin a traīn, + A-ridčn on athirt the plaīn, + A-cleären swifter than a hound, + On twin-laid rails, the zwimmčn ground; + I cast my eyes 'ithin a park, + Upon a woak wi' grey-white bark, + An' while I kept his head my mark, + The rest did wheel around en. + + An' when in life our love do cling + The clwosest round zome single thing, + We then do vind that all the rest + Do wheel roun' that, vor vu'st an' best; + Zoo while our life do last, mid nought + But what is good an' feäir be sought, + In word or deed, or heart or thought, + An' all the rest wheel round it. + + + + +SEATS. + + + When starbright maīdens be to zit + In silken frocks, that they do wear, + The room mid have, as 'tis but fit, + A han'some seat vor vo'k so feäir; + But we, in zun-dried vield an' wood, + Ha' seats as good's a goolden chair. + + Vor here, 'ithin the woody drong, + A ribbčd elem-stem do lie, + A-vell'd in Spring, an' stratch'd along + A bed o' grægles up knee-high, + A sheädy seat to rest, an' let + The burnčn het o' noon goo by. + + Or if you'd look, wi' wider scope, + Out where the gray-tree'd plaīn do spread, + The ash bezide the zunny slope, + Do sheäde a cool-aīr'd deäisy bed, + An' grassy seat, wi' spreadčn eaves + O' rus'lčn leaves, above your head. + + An' there the traīn mid come in zight, + Too vur to hear a-rollčn by, + A-breathčn quick, in heästy flight, + His breath o' tweil, avore the sky, + The while the waggon, wi' his lwoad, + Do crawl the rwoad a-windčn nigh. + + Or now theäse happy holiday + Do let vo'k rest their weäry lim's, + An' lwoaded hay's a-hangčn gray, + Above the waggon-wheels' dry rims, + The meäd ha' seats in weäles or pooks, + By windčn brooks, wi' crumblčn brims. + + Or if you'd gi'e your thoughtvul mind + To yonder long-vorseäken hall, + Then teäke a stwončn seat behind + The ivy on the broken wall, + An' learn how e'thly wealth an' might + Mid clim' their height, an' then mid vall. + + + + +SOUND O' WATER. + + + I born in town! oh no, my dawn + O' life broke here beside theäse lawn; + Not where pent aīr do roll along, + In darkness drough the wall-bound drong, + An' never bring the goo-coo's zong, + Nor sweets o' blossoms in the hedge, + Or bendčn rush, or sheenčn zedge, + Or sounds o' flowčn water. + + The aīr that I've a-breath'd did sheäke + The draps o' raīn upon the breäke, + An' bear aloft the swingčn lark, + An' huffle roun' the elem's bark, + In boughy grove, an' woody park, + An' brought us down the dewy dells, + The high-wound zongs o' nightingeäles. + An' sounds o' flowčn water. + + An' when the zun, wi' vi'ry rim, + 'S a-zinkčn low, an' wearčn dim, + Here I, a-most too tired to stand, + Do leäve my work that's under hand + In pathless wood or oben land, + To rest 'ithin my thatchčn oves, + Wi' ruslčn win's in leafy groves, + An' sounds o' flowčn water. + + + + +TREES BE COMPANY. + + + When zummer's burnčn het's a-shed + Upon the droopčn grasses head, + A-drevčn under sheädy leaves + The workvo'k in their snow-white sleeves, + We then mid yearn to clim' the height, + Where thorns be white, above the vern; + An' aīr do turn the zunsheen's might + To softer light too weak to burn-- + On woodless downs we mid be free, + But lowland trees be company. + + Though downs mid show a wider view + O' green a-reachčn into blue + Than roads a-windčn in the glen, + An' ringčn wi' the sounds o' men; + The thissle's crown o' red an' blue + In Fall's cwold dew do wither brown, + An' larks come down 'ithin the lew, + As storms do brew, an' skies do frown-- + An' though the down do let us free, + The lowland trees be company. + + Where birds do zing, below the zun, + In trees above the blue-smok'd tun, + An' sheädes o' stems do overstratch + The mossy path 'ithin the hatch; + If leaves be bright up over head, + When Ma˙ do shed its glitt'rčn light; + Or, in the blight o' Fall, do spread + A yollow bed avore our zight-- + Whatever season it mid be, + The trees be always company. + + When dusky night do nearly hide + The path along the hedge's zide, + An' dailight's hwomely sounds be still + But sounds o' water at the mill; + Then if noo feäce we long'd to greet + Could come to meet our lwonesome treäce + Or if noo peäce o' weary veet, + However fleet, could reach its pleäce-- + However lwonesome we mid be, + The trees would still be company. + + + + +A PLEÄCE IN ZIGHT. + + + As I at work do look aroun' + Upon the groun' I have in view, + To yonder hills that still do rise + Avore the skies, wi' backs o' blue; + 'Ithin the ridges that do vall + An' rise roun' Blackmwore lik' a wall, + 'Tis yonder knap do teäke my zight + Vrom dawn till night, the mwost ov all. + + An' there, in Ma˙, 'ithin the lewth + O' boughs in blooth, be sheädy walks, + An' cowslips up in yollow beds + Do hang their heads on downy stalks; + An' if the weather should be feäir + When I've a holiday to speäre, + I'll teäke the chance o' gettčn drough + An hour or two wi' zome vo'k there. + + An' there I now can dimly zee + The elem-tree upon the mound, + An' there meäke out the high-bough'd grove + An' narrow drove by Redcliff ground; + An' there by trees a-risčn tall, + The glowčn zunlight now do vall, + Wi' shortest sheädes o' middle day, + Upon the gray wold house's wall. + + An' I can zee avore the sky + A-risčn high the churches speer, + Wi' bells that I do goo to swing, + An' like to ring, an' like to hear; + An' if I've luck upon my zide, + They bells shall sound bwoth loud an' wide, + A peal above they slopes o' gray, + Zome merry day wi' Jeäne a bride. + + + + +GWAIN TO BROOKWELL. + + + At Easter, though the wind wer high, + We vound we had a zunny sky, + An' zoo wold Dobbin had to trudge + His dousty road by knap an' brudge, + An' jog, wi' hangčn vetterlocks + A-sheäkčn roun' his heavy hocks, + An' us, a lwoad not much too small, + A-ridčn out to Brookwell Hall; + An' there in doust vrom Dobbin's heels, + An' green light-waggon's vower wheels, + Our merry laughs did loudly sound, + In rollčn winds athirt the ground; + While sheenčn-ribbons' color'd streäks + Did flutter roun' the maīdens' cheäks, + As they did zit, wi' smilčn lips, + A-reachčn out their vinger-tips + Toward zome teäkčn pleäce or zight + That they did shew us, left or right; + An' woonce, when Jimmy tried to pleäce + A kiss on cousin Polly's feäce, + She push'd his hat, wi' wicked leers, + Right off above his two red ears, + An' there he roll'd along the groun' + Wi' spreadčn brim an' rounded crown, + An' vound, at last, a cowpon's brim, + An' launch'd hizzelf, to teäke a zwim; + An' there, as Jim did run to catch + His neäked noddle's bit o' thatch, + To zee his straīnčns an' his strides, + We laugh'd enough to split our zides. + At Harwood Farm we pass'd the land + That father's father had in hand, + An' there, in oben light did spread, + The very groun's his cows did tread, + An' there above the stwončn tun + Avore the dazzlčn mornčn zun, + Wer still the rollčn smoke, the breath + A-breath'd vrom his wold house's he'th; + An' there did lie below the door, + The drashol' that his vootsteps wore; + But there his meäte an' he bwoth died, + Wi' hand in hand, an' zide by zide; + Between the seäme two peals a-rung, + Two Zundays, though they wer but young, + An' laid in sleep, their worksome hands, + At rest vrom tweil wi' house or lands. + Then vower childern laid their heads + At night upon their little beds, + An' never rose ageän below + A mother's love, or father's ho: + Dree little maīdens, small in feäce, + An' woone small bwoy, the fourth in pleäce + Zoo when their heedvul father died, + He call'd his brother to his zide, + To meäke en stand, in hiz own stead, + His childern's guide, when he wer dead; + But still avore zix years brought round + The woodland goo-coo's zummer sound, + He weästed all their little store, + An' hardship drove em out o' door, + To tweil till tweilsome life should end. + 'Ithout a single e'thly friend. + But soon wi' Harwood back behind, + An' out o' zight an' out o' mind, + We went a-rottlčn on, an' meäde + Our way along to Brookwell Sleäde; + An' then we vound ourselves draw nigh + The Leädy's Tow'r that rose on high, + An' seem'd a-comčn on to meet, + Wi' growčn height, wold Dobbin's veet. + + + + +BROOKWELL. + + + Well, I do zay 'tis wo'th woone's while + To beät the doust a good six mile + To zee the pleäce the squier plann'd + At Brookwell, now a-meäde by hand; + Wi' oben lawn, an' grove, an' pon', + An' gravel-walks as cleän as bron; + An' grass a'most so soft to tread + As velvet-pile o' silken thread; + An' mounds wi' mæsh, an' rocks wi' flow'rs, + An' ivy-sheäded zummer bow'rs, + An' dribblčn water down below + The stwončn archčs lofty bow. + An' there do sound the watervall + Below a cavern's maeshy wall, + Where peäle-green light do struggle down + A leafy crevice at the crown. + An' there do gush the foamy bow + O' water, white as driven snow: + An' there, a zittčn all alwone, + A little maīd o' marble stwone + Do leän her little cheäk azide + Upon her lily han', an' bide + Bezide the vallčn stream to zee + Her pitcher vill'd avore her knee. + An' then the brook, a-rollčn dark + Below a leänčn yew-tree's bark, + Wi' pla˙some ripples that do run + A-flashčn to the western zun, + Do shoot, at last, wi' foamy shocks, + Athirt a ledge o' craggy rocks, + A-castčn in his heästy flight, + Upon the stwones a robe o' white; + An' then ageän do goo an' vall + Below a bridge's archčd wall, + Where vo'k agwaīn athirt do pass + Vow'r little bwoys a-cast in brass; + An' woone do hold an angler's wand, + Wi' steady hand, above the pond; + An' woone, a-pweīntčn to the stream + His little vinger-tip, do seem + A-showčn to his playmeätes' eyes, + Where he do zee the vishes rise; + An' woone ageän, wi' smilčn lips, + Do put a vish his han' do clips + 'Ithin a basket, loosely tied + About his shoulder at his zide: + An' after that the fourth do stand + A-holdčn back his pretty hand + Behind his little ear, to drow + A stwone upon the stream below. + An' then the housčn, that be all + Sich pretty hwomes, vrom big to small, + A-lookčn south, do cluster round + A zunny ledge o' risčn ground, + Avore a wood, a-nestled warm, + In lewth ageän the northern storm, + Where smoke, a-wreathčn blue, do spread + Above the tuns o' dusky red, + An' window-peänes do glitter bright + Wi' burnčn streams o' zummer light, + Below the vine, a-traīn'd to hem + Their zides 'ithin his leafy stem, + An' rangle on, wi' flutt'rčn leaves, + Below the houses' thatchen eaves. + An' drough a lawn a-spread avore + The windows, an' the pworchčd door, + A path do wind 'ithin a hatch, + A-vastčn'd wi' a clickčn latch, + An' there up over ruf an' tun, + Do stan' the smooth-wall'd church o' stwone, + Wi' carvčd windows, thin an' tall, + A-reachčn up the lofty wall; + An' battlements, a-stannčn round + The tower, ninety veet vrom ground, + Vrom where a teäp'rčn speer do spring + So high's the mornčn lark do zing. + Zoo I do zay 'tis wo'th woone's while + To beät the doust a good six mile, + To zee the pleäce the squier plann'd + At Brookwell, now a-meäde by hand. + + + + +THE SHY MAN. + + + Ah! good Meäster Gwillet, that you mid ha' know'd, + Wer a-bred up at Coomb, an' went little abroad: + An' if he got in among strangers, he velt + His poor heart in a twitter, an' ready to melt; + Or if, by ill luck, in his rambles, he met + Wi' zome maīdens a-titt'rčn, he burn'd wi' a het, + That shot all drough the lim's o'n, an' left a cwold zweat, + The poor little chap wer so shy, + He wer ready to drap, an' to die. + + But at last 'twer the lot o' the poor little man + To vall deeply in love, as the best ov us can; + An' 'twer noo easy task vor a shy man to tell + Sich a dazzlčn feäir maīd that he loved her so well; + An' woone day when he met her, his knees nearly smote + Woone another, an' then wi' a struggle he bro't + A vew vords to his tongue, wi' some mwore in his droat. + But she, 'ithout doubt, could soon vind + Vrom two words that come out, zix behind. + + Zoo at langth, when he vound her so smilčn an' kind, + Why he wrote her zome laīns, vor to tell her his mind, + Though 'twer then a hard task vor a man that wer shy, + To be married in church, wi' a crowd stannčn by. + But he twold her woone day, "I have housen an' lands, + We could marry by licence, if you don't like banns," + An' he cover'd his eyes up wi' woone ov his han's, + Vor his head seem'd to zwim as he spoke, + An' the aīr look'd so dim as a smoke. + + Well! he vound a good naīghbour to goo in his pleäce + Vor to buy the goold ring, vor he hadden the feäce. + An' when he went up vor to put in the banns, + He did sheäke in his lags, an' did sheäke in his han's. + Then they ax'd vor her neäme, an' her parish or town, + An' he gi'ed em a leaf, wi' her neäme a-wrote down; + Vor he coulden ha' twold em outright, vor a poun', + Vor his tongue wer so weak an' so loose, + When he wanted to speak 'twer noo use. + + Zoo they went to be married, an' when they got there + All the vo'k wer a-gather'd as if 'twer a feäir, + An' he thought, though his pleäce mid be pleazčn to zome, + He could all but ha' wish'd that he hadden a-come. + The bride wer a-smilčn as fresh as a rwose, + An' when he come wi' her, an' show'd his poor nose. + All the little bwoys shouted, an' cried "There he goes," + "There he goes." Oh! vor his peärt he velt + As if the poor heart o'n would melt. + + An' when they stood up by the chancel together, + Oh! a man mid ha' knock'd en right down wi' a veather, + He did veel zoo asheäm'd that he thought he would rather + He wërden the bridegroom, but only the father. + But, though 'tis so funny to zee en so shy, + Yeet his mind is so lowly, his aīms be so high, + That to do a meän deed, or to tell woone a lie, + You'd vind that he'd shun mwore by half, + Than to stan' vor vo'ks fun, or their laugh. + + + + +THE WINTER'S WILLOW. + + + There Liddy zot bezide her cow, + Upon her lowly seat, O; + A hood did overhang her brow, + Her paīl wer at her veet, O; + An' she wer kind, an' she wer feäir, + An' she wer young, an' free o' ceäre; + Vew winters had a-blow'd her heäir, + Bezide the Winter's Willow. + + She idden woone a-rear'd in town + Where many a ga˙er lass, O, + Do trip a-smilčn up an' down, + So peäle wi' smoke an' gas, O; + But here, in vields o' greäzčn herds, + Her väice ha' mingled sweetest words + Wi' evenčn cheärms o' busy birds, + Bezide the Winter's Willow. + + An' when, at last, wi' beätčn breast, + I knock'd avore her door, O, + She ax'd me in to teäke the best + O' pleäces on the vloor, O; + An' smilčn feäir avore my zight, + She blush'd bezide the yollow light + O' bleäzčn brands, while winds o' night + Do sheäke the Winter's Willow. + + An' if there's readship in her smile, + She don't begrudge to speäre, O, + To zomebody, a little while, + The empty woaken chair, O; + An' if I've luck upon my zide, + Why, I do think she'll be my bride + Avore the leaves ha' twice a-died + Upon the Winter's Willow. + + Above the coach-wheels' rollčn rims + She never rose to ride, O, + Though she do zet her comely lim's + Above the mare's white zide, O; + But don't become too proud to stoop + An' scrub her milkčn paīl's white hoop, + Or zit a-milkčn where do droop, + The wet-stemm'd Winter's Willow. + + An' I've a cow or two in leäze, + Along the river-zide, O, + An' paīls to zet avore her knees, + At dawn an' evenčn-tide, O; + An' there she still mid zit, an' look + Athirt upon the woody nook + Where vu'st I zeed her by the brook + Bezide the Winter's Willow. + + Zoo, who would heed the treeless down, + A-beät by all the storms, O, + Or who would heed the busy town, + Where vo'k do goo in zwarms, O; + If he wer in my house below + The elems, where the vier did glow + In Liddy's feäce, though winds did blow + Ageän the Winter's Willow. + + + + +I KNOW WHO. + + + Aye, aye, vull rathe the zun mus' rise + To meäke us tired o' zunny skies, + A-sheenčn on the whole day drough, + From mornčn's dawn till evenčn's dew. + When trees be brown an' meäds be green, + An' skies be blue, an' streams do sheen, + An' thin-edg'd clouds be snowy white + Above the bluest hills in zight; + But I can let the daylight goo, + When I've a-met wi'--I know who. + + In Spring I met her by a bed + O' laurels higher than her head; + The while a rwose hung white between + Her blushes an' the laurel's green; + An' then in Fall, I went along + The row of elems in the drong, + An' heärd her zing bezide the cows, + By yollow leaves o' meäple boughs; + But Fall or Spring is feäir to view + When day do bring me--I know who. + + An' when, wi' wint'r a-comčn roun', + The purple he'th's a-feädčn brown, + An' hangčn vern's a-sheäkčn dead, + Bezide the hill's besheäded head: + An' black-wing'd rooks do glitter bright + Above my head, in peäler light; + Then though the birds do still the glee + That sounded in the zummer tree, + My heart is light the winter drough, + In me'th at night, wi'--I know who. + + + + +JESSIE LEE. + + + Above the timber's bendčn sh'ouds, + The western wind did softly blow; + An' up avore the knap, the clouds + Did ride as white as driven snow. + Vrom west to east the clouds did zwim + Wi' wind that plied the elem's lim'; + Vrom west to east the stream did glide, + A-sheenčn wide, wi' windčn brim. + + How feäir, I thought, avore the sky + The slowly-zwimmčn clouds do look; + How soft the win's a-streamčn by; + How bright do roll the weävy brook: + When there, a-passčn on my right, + A-waikčn slow, an' treadčn light, + Young Jessie Lee come by, an' there + Took all my ceäre, an' all my zight. + + Vor lovely wer the looks her feäce + Held up avore the western sky: + An' comely wer the steps her peäce + Did meäke a-walkčn slowly by: + But I went east, wi' beätčn breast, + Wi' wind, an' cloud, an' brook, vor rest, + Wi' rest a-lost, vor Jessie gone + So lovely on, toward the west. + + Blow on, O winds, athirt the hill; + Zwim on, O clouds; O waters vall, + Down mæshy rocks, vrom mill to mill; + I now can overlook ye all. + But roll, O zun, an' bring to me + My day, if such a day there be, + When zome dear path to my abode + Shall be the road o' Jessie Lee. + + + + +TRUE LOVE. + + + As evenčn aīr, in green-treed Spring, + Do sheäke the new-sprung pa'sley bed, + An' wither'd ash-tree keys do swing + An' vall a-flutt'rčn roun' our head: + There, while the birds do zing their zong + In bushes down the ash-tree drong, + Come Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleäce + Your vaīce an' feäce can meäke vor me. + + Below the buddčn ashes' height + We there can linger in the lew, + While boughs, a-gilded by the light, + Do sheen avore the sky o' blue: + But there by zettčn zun, or moon + A-risčn, time wull vlee too soon + Wi' Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleäce + Her vaīce an' feäce can meäke vor me. + + Down where the darksome brook do flow, + Below the bridge's archčd wall, + Wi' alders dark, a-leančn low, + Above the gloomy watervall; + There I've a-led ye hwome at night, + Wi' noo feäce else 'ithin my zight + But yours so feäir, an' sweet's the pleäce + Your vaīce an' feäce ha' meäde me there. + + An' oh! when other years do come, + An' zettčn zuns, wi' yollow gleäre, + Drough western window-peänes, at hwome, + Do light upon my evenčn chair: + While day do weäne, an' dew do vall, + Be wi' me then, or else in call, + As time do vlee, vor sweet's the pleäce + Your vaīce an' feäce do meäke vor me. + + Ah! you do smile, a-thinkčn light + O' my true words, but never mind; + Smile on, smile on, but still your flight + Would leäve me little ja˙ behind: + But let me not be zoo a-tried + Wi' you a-lost where I do bide, + O Jessie Lee, in any pleäce + Your vaīce an' feäce ha' blest vor me. + + I'm sure that when a soul's a-brought + To this our life ov aīr an' land, + Woone mwore's a-mark'd in God's good thought, + To help, wi' love, his heart an' hand. + An' oh! if there should be in store + An angel here vor my poor door, + 'Tis Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleäce + Her vaīce an' feace can meäke vor me. + + + + +THE BEAN VIELD. + + + 'Twer where the zun did warm the lewth, + An' win' did whiver in the sheäde, + The sweet-aīr'd beäns were out in blooth, + Down there 'ithin the elem gleäde; + A yollow-banded bee did come, + An' softly-pitch, wi' hushčn hum, + Upon a beän, an' there did sip, + Upon a swa˙čn blossom's lip: + An' there cried he, "Aye, I can zee, + This blossom's all a-zent vor me." + + A-jilted up an' down, astride + Upon a lofty ho'se a-trot, + The meäster then come by wi' pride, + To zee the beäns that he'd a-got; + An' as he zot upon his ho'se, + The ho'se ageän did snort an' toss + His high-ear'd head, an' at the zight + Ov all the blossom, black an' white: + "Ah! ah!" thought he, the seäme's the bee, + "Theäse beäns be all a-zent vor me." + + Zoo let the worold's riches breed + A strife o' claīms, wi' weak and strong, + Vor now what cause have I to heed + Who's in the right, or in the wrong; + Since there do come drough yonder hatch, + An' bloom below the house's thatch, + The best o' maīdens, an' do own + That she is mine, an' mine alwone: + Zoo I can zee that love do gi'e + The best ov all good gifts to me. + + Vor whose be all the crops an' land + A-won an' lost, an' bought, an zwold + Or whose, a-roll'd vrom hand to hand, + The highest money that's a-twold? + Vrom man to man a passčn on, + 'Tis here to-day, to-morrow gone. + But there's a blessčn high above + It all--a soul o' stedvast love: + Zoo let it vlee, if God do gi'e + Sweet Jessie vor a gift to me. + + + + +WOLD FRIENDS A-MET. + + + Aye, vull my heart's blood now do roll, + An' ga˙ do rise my happy soul, + An' well they mid, vor here our veet + Avore woone vier ageän do meet; + Vor you've avoun' my feäce, to greet + Wi' welcome words my startlčn ear. + An' who be you, but John o' Weer, + An' I, but William Wellburn. + + Here, light a candle up, to shed + Mwore light upon a wold friend's head, + An' show the smile, his feäce woonce mwore + Ha' brought us vrom another shore. + An' I'll heave on a brand avore + The vier back, to meäke good cheer, + O' roarčn fleämes, vor John o' Weer + To chat wi' William Wellburn. + + Aye, aye, it mid be true that zome, + When they do wander out vrom hwome, + Do leäve their nearest friends behind, + Bwoth out o' zight, an' out o' mind; + But John an' I ha' ties to bind + Our souls together, vur or near, + For, who is he but John o' Weer. + An' I, but William Wellburn. + + Look, there he is, with twinklčn eyes, + An' elbows down upon his thighs. + A-chucklčn low, wi' merry grin. + Though time ha' roughen'd up his chin, + 'Tis still the seäme true soul 'ithin, + As woonce I know'd, when year by year, + Thik very chap, thik John o' Weer, + Did pla˙ wi' William Wellburn. + + Come, John, come; don't be dead-alive + Here, reach us out your clust'r o' vive. + Oh! you be happy. Ees, but that + Woon't do till you can laugh an' chat. + Don't blinky, lik' a purrčn cat, + But leäp an' laugh, an' let vo'k hear + What's happen'd, min, that John o' Weer + Ha' met wi' William Wellburn. + + Vor zome, wi' selfishness too strong + Vor love, do do each other wrong; + An' zome do wrangle an' divide + In hets ov anger, bred o' pride; + But who do think that time or tide + Can breed ill-will in friends so dear, + As William wer to John o' Weer, + An' John to William Wellburn? + + If other vo'ks do gleen to zee + How lovčn an' how glad we be, + What, then, poor souls, they had but vew + Sich happy days, so long agoo, + As they that I've a-spent wi' you; + But they'd hold woone another dear, + If woone o' them wer John o' Weer, + An' tother William Wellburn. + + + + +FIFEHEAD. + + + 'Twer where my fondest thoughts do light, + At Fifehead, while we spent the night; + The millwheel's restčn rim wer dry, + An' houn's held up their evenčn cry; + An' lofty, drough the midnight sky, + Above the vo'k, wi' heavy heads, + Asleep upon their darksome beds, + The stars wer all awake, John. + + Noo birds o' day wer out to spread + Their wings above the gully's bed, + An' darkness roun' the elem-tree + 'D a-still'd the charmy childern's glee. + All he'ths wer cwold but woone, where we + Wer ga˙, 'tis true, but ga˙ an' wise, + An' laugh'd in light o' maīden's eyes, + That glissen'd wide awake, John. + + An' when we all, lik' loosen'd hounds, + Broke out o' doors, wi' merry sounds, + Our friends among the pla˙some team, + All brought us gwäin so vur's the stream. + But Jeäne, that there, below a gleam + O' light, watch'd woone o's out o' zight; + Vor willčnly, vor his "Good night," + She'd longer bide awake, John. + + An' while up _Leighs_ we stepp'd along + Our grassy path, wi' joke an' zong, + There _Plumber_, wi' its woody ground, + O' slopčn knaps a-screen'd around, + Rose dim 'ithout a breath o' sound, + The wold abode o' squiers a-gone, + Though while they lay a-sleepčn on, + Their stars wer still awake, John. + + + + +IVY HALL. + + + If I've a-stream'd below a storm, + An' not a-velt the raīn, + An' if I ever velt me warm, + In snow upon the plaīn, + 'Twer when, as evenčn skies wer dim, + An' vields below my eyes wer dim, + I went alwone at evenčn-fall, + Athirt the vields to Ivy Hall. + + I voun' the wind upon the hill, + Last night, a-roarčn loud, + An' rubbčn boughs a-creakčn sh'ill + Upon the ashes' sh'oud; + But oh! the reelčn copse mid groan; + An' timber's lofty tops mid groan; + The hufflčn winds be music all, + Bezide my road to Ivy Hall. + + A sheädy grove o' ribbčd woaks, + Is Wootton's shelter'd nest, + An' woaks do keep the winter's strokes + Vrom Knapton's evenčn rest. + An' woaks ageän wi' bossy stems, + An' elems wi' their mossy stems, + Do rise to screen the leafy wall + An' stwončn ruf ov Ivy Hall. + + The darksome clouds mid fling their sleet. + An' vrost mid pinch me blue, + Or snow mid cling below my veet, + An' hide my road vrom view. + The winter's only ja˙ ov heart, + An' storms do meäke me ga˙ ov heart, + When I do rest, at evenčn-fall, + Bezide the he'th ov Ivy Hall. + + There leafy stems do clim' around + The mossy stwončn eaves; + An' there be window-zides a-bound + Wi' quiv'rčn ivy-leaves. + But though the sky is dim 'ithout, + An' feäces mid be grim 'ithout, + Still I ha' smiles when I do call, + At evenčn-tide, at Ivy Hall. + + + + +FALSE FRIENDS-LIKE. + + + When I wer still a bwoy, an' mother's pride, + A bigger bwoy spoke up to me so kind-like, + "If you do like, I'll treat ye wi' a ride + In theäse wheel-barrow here." Zoo I wer blind-like + To what he had a-workčn in his mind-like, + An' mounted vor a passenger inside; + An' comčn to a puddle, perty wide, + He tipp'd me in, a-grinnčn back behind-like. + Zoo when a man do come to me so thick-like, + An' sheäke my hand, where woonce he pass'd me by, + An' tell me he would do me this or that, + I can't help thinkčn o' the big bwoy's trick-like. + An' then, vor all I can but wag my hat + An' thank en, I do veel a little shy. + + + + +THE BACHELOR. + + + No! I don't begrudge en his life, + Nor his goold, nor his housen, nor lands; + Teäke all o't, an' gi'e me my wife, + A wife's be the cheapest ov hands. + Lie alwone! sigh alwone! die alwone! + Then be vorgot. + No! I be content wi' my lot. + + Ah! where be the vingers so feäir, + Vor to pat en so soft on the feäce, + To mend ev'ry stitch that do tear, + An' keep ev'ry button in pleäce? + Crack a-tore! brack a-tore! back a-tore! + Buttons a-vled! + Vor want ov a wife wi' her thread. + + Ah! where is the sweet-perty head + That do nod till he's gone out o' zight? + An' where be the two eärms a-spread, + To show en he's welcome at night? + Dine alwone! pine alwone! whine alwone! + Oh! what a life! + I'll have a friend in a wife. + + An' when vrom a meetčn o' me'th + Each husban' do leäd hwome his bride, + Then he do slink hwome to his he'th, + Wi' his eärm a-hung down his cwold zide. + Slinkčn on! blinkčn on! thinkčn on! + Gloomy an' glum; + Nothčn but dullness to come. + + An' when he do onlock his door, + Do rumble as hollow's a drum, + An' the veäries a-hid roun' the vloor, + Do grin vor to see en so glum. + Keep alwone! sleep alwone! weep alwone! + There let en bide, + I'll have a wife at my zide. + + But when he's a-laid on his bed + In a zickness, O, what wull he do! + Vor the hands that would lift up his head, + An' sheäke up his pillor anew. + Ills to come! pills to come! bills to come! + Noo soul to sheäre + The trials the poor wratch must bear. + + + + +MARRIED PEÄIR'S LOVE WALK. + + + Come let's goo down the grove to-night; + The moon is up, 'tis all so light + As day, an' win' do blow enough + To sheäke the leaves, but tiddčn rough. + Come, Esther, teäke, vor wold time's seäke, + Your hooded cloke, that's on the pin, + An' wrap up warm, an' teäke my eärm, + You'll vind it better out than in. + Come, Etty dear; come out o' door, + An' teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore. + + How charmčn to our very souls, + Wer woonce your evenčn maīden strolls, + The while the zettčn zunlight dyed + Wi' red the beeches' western zide, + But back avore your vinger wore + The weddčn ring that's now so thin; + An' you did sheäre a mother's ceäre, + To watch an' call ye eärly in. + Come, Etty dear; come out o' door, + An' teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore. + + An' then ageän, when you could slight + The clock a-strikčn leäte at night, + The while the moon, wi' risčn rim, + Did light the beeches' eastern lim'. + When I'd a-bound your vinger round + Wi' thik goold ring that's now so thin, + An' you had nwone but me alwone + To teäke ye leäte or eärly in. + Come, Etty dear; come out o' door, + An' teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore. + + But often when the western zide + O' trees did glow at evenčn-tide, + Or when the leäter moon did light + The beeches' eastern boughs at night, + An' in the grove, where vo'k did rove + The crumpled leaves did vlee an' spin, + You couldčn sheäre the pleasure there: + Your work or childern kept ye in. + Come, Etty dear, come out o' door, + An' teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore. + + But ceäres that zunk your oval chin + Ageän your bosom's lily skin, + Vor all they meäde our life so black, + Be now a-lost behind our back. + Zoo never mwope, in midst of hope, + To slight our blessčns would be sin. + Ha! ha! well done, now this is fun; + When you do like I'll bring ye in. + Here, Etty dear; here, out o' door, + We'll teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore. + + + + +A WIFE A-PRAĪS'D. + + + 'Twer Ma˙, but ev'ry leaf wer dry + All day below a sheenčn sky; + The zun did glow wi' yollow gleäre, + An' cowslips blow wi' yollow gleäre, + Wi' grægles' bells a-droopčn low, + An' bremble boughs a-stoopčn low; + While culvers in the trees did coo + Above the vallčn dew. + + An' there, wi' heäir o' glossy black, + Bezide your neck an' down your back, + You rambled ga˙ a-bloomčn feäir; + By boughs o' ma˙ a-bloomčn feäir; + An' while the birds did twitter nigh, + An' water weäves did glitter nigh, + You gather'd cowslips in the lew, + Below the vallčn dew. + + An' now, while you've a-been my bride + As years o' flow'rs ha' bloom'd an' died, + Your smilčn feäce ha' been my ja˙; + Your soul o' greäce ha' been my ja˙; + An' wi' my evenčn rest a-come, + An' zunsheen to the west a-come, + I'm glad to teäke my road to you + Vrom vields o' vallčn dew. + + An' when the raīn do wet the ma˙, + A-bloomčn where we woonce did stra˙, + An' win' do blow along so vast, + An' streams do flow along so vast; + Ageän the storms so rough abroad, + An' angry tongues so gruff abroad, + The love that I do meet vrom you + Is lik' the vallčn dew. + + An' you be sprack's a bee on wing, + In search ov honey in the Spring: + The dawn-red sky do meet ye up; + The birds vu'st cry do meet ye up; + An' wi' your feäce a-smilčn on, + An' busy hands a-tweilčn on, + You'll vind zome useful work to do + Until the vallčn dew. + + + + +THE WIFE A-LOST. + + + Since I noo mwore do zee your feäce, + Up steäirs or down below, + I'll zit me in the lwonesome pleäce, + Where flat-bough'd beech do grow: + Below the beeches' bough, my love, + Where you did never come, + An' I don't look to meet ye now, + As I do look at hwome. + + Since you noo mwore be at my zide, + In walks in zummer het, + I'll goo alwone where mist do ride, + Drough trees a-drippčn wet: + Below the raīn-wet bough, my love, + Where you did never come, + An' I don't grieve to miss ye now, + As I do grieve at home. + + Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard + Your vaīce do never sound, + I'll eat the bit I can avword, + A-vield upon the ground; + Below the darksome bough, my love, + Where you did never dine, + An' I don't grieve to miss ye now, + As I at hwome do pine. + + Since I do miss your vaīce an' feäce + In pra˙er at eventide, + I'll pra˙ wi' woone said vaīce vor greäce + To goo where you do bide; + Above the tree an' bough, my love, + Where you be gone avore, + An' be a-waītčn vor me now, + To come vor evermwore. + + + + +THE THORNS IN THE GEÄTE. + + + Ah! Meäster Collins overtook + Our knot o' vo'k a-stannčn still, + Last Zunday, up on Ivy Hill, + To zee how strong the corn did look. + An' he stay'd back awhile an' spoke + A vew kind words to all the vo'k, + Vor good or joke, an' wi' a smile + Begun a-pla˙čn wi' a chile. + + The zull, wi' iron zide awry, + Had long a-vurrow'd up the vield; + The heavy roller had a-wheel'd + It smooth vor showers vrom the sky; + The bird-bwoy's cry, a-risčn sh'ill, + An' clacker, had a-left the hill, + All bright but still, vor time alwone + To speed the work that we'd a-done. + + Down drough the wind, a-blowčn keen, + Did gleäre the nearly cloudless sky, + An' corn in bleäde, up ancle-high, + 'lthin the geäte did quiver green; + An' in the geäte a-lock'd there stood + A prickly row o' thornčn wood + Vor vo'k vor food had done their best, + An' left to Spring to do the rest. + + "The geäte," he cried, "a-seal'd wi' thorn + Vrom harmvul veet's a-left to hold + The bleäde a-springčn vrom the mwold, + While God do ripen it to corn. + An' zoo in life let us vulvil + Whatever is our Meäker's will, + An' then bide still, wi' peacevul breast, + While He do manage all the rest." + + + + +ANGELS BY THE DOOR. + + + Oh! there be angels evermwore, + A-passčn onward by the door, + A-zent to teäke our ja˙s, or come + To bring us zome--O Meärianne. + Though doors be shut, an' bars be stout, + Noo bolted door can keep em out; + But they wull leäve us ev'ry thing + They have to bring--My Meärianne. + + An' zoo the days a-stealčn by, + Wi' zuns a-ridčn drough the sky, + Do bring us things to leäve us sad, + Or meäke us glad--O Meärianne. + The day that's mild, the day that's stern, + Do teäke, in stillness, each his turn; + An' evils at their worst mid mend, + Or even end--My Meärianne. + + But still, if we can only bear + Wi' faīth an' love, our paīn an' ceäre, + We shan't vind missčn ja˙s a-lost, + Though we be crost--O Meärianne. + But all a-took to heav'n, an' stow'd + Where we can't weäste em on the road, + As we do wander to an' fro, + Down here below--My Meärianne. + + But there be ja˙s I'd soonest choose + To keep, vrom them that I must lose; + Your workzome hands to help my tweil, + Your cheerful smile--O Meärianne. + The Zunday bells o' yonder tow'r, + The moonlight sheädes o' my own bow'r, + An' rest avore our vier-zide, + At evenčn-tide--My Meärianne. + + + + +VO'K A-COMČN INTO CHURCH. + + + The church do zeem a touchčn zight, + When vo'k, a-comčn in at door, + Do softly tread the long-aīl'd vloor + Below the pillar'd arches' height, + Wi' bells a-pealčn, + Vo'k a-kneelčn, + Hearts a-healčn, wi' the love + An' peäce a-zent em vrom above. + + An' there, wi' mild an' thoughtvul feäce, + Wi' downcast eyes, an' vaīces dum', + The wold an' young do slowly come, + An' teäke in stillness each his pleäce, + A-zinkčn slowly, + Kneelčn lowly, + Seekčn holy thoughts alwone, + In pra˙'r avore their Meäker's throne. + + An' there be sons in youthvul pride, + An' fathers weak wi' years an' paīn, + An' daughters in their mother's traīn. + The tall wi' smaller at their zide; + Heads in murnčn + Never turnčn, + Cheäks a-burnčn, wi' the het + O' youth, an' eyes noo tears do wet. + + There friends do settle, zide by zide, + The knower speechless to the known; + Their vaīce is there vor God alwone + To flesh an' blood their tongues be tied. + Grief a-wringčn, + Ja˙ a-zingčn, + Pray'r a-bringčn welcome rest + So softly to the troubled breast. + + + + +WOONE RULE. + + + An' while I zot, wi' thoughtvul mind, + Up where the lwonesome Coombs do wind, + An' watch'd the little gully slide + So crookčd to the river-zide; + I thought how wrong the Stour did zeem + To roll along his ramblčn stream, + A-runnčn wide the left o' south, + To vind his mouth, the right-hand zide. + + But though his stream do teäke, at mill. + An' eastward bend by Newton Hill, + An' goo to lay his welcome boon + O' daīly water round Hammoon, + An' then wind off ageän, to run + By Blanvord, to the noonday zun, + 'Tis only bound by woone rule all, + An' that's to vall down steepest ground. + + An' zoo, I thought, as we do bend + Our wa˙ drough life, to reach our end, + Our God ha' gi'ed us, vrom our youth, + Woone rule to be our guide--His truth. + An' zoo wi' that, though we mid teäke + Wide rambles vor our callčns' seäke, + What is, is best, we needen fear, + An' we shall steer to happy rest. + + + + +GOOD MEÄSTER COLLINS. + + + Aye, Meäster Collins wer a-blest + Wi' greäce, an' now's a-gone to rest; + An' though his heart did beät so meek + 'S a little child's, when he did speak, + The godly wisdom ov his tongue + Wer dew o' greäce to wold an' young. + + 'Twer woonce, upon a zummer's tide, + I zot at Brookwell by his zide, + Avore the leäke, upon the rocks, + Above the water's idle shocks, + As little pla˙some weäves did zwim + Ageän the water's windy brim, + Out where the lofty tower o' stwone + Did stan' to years o' wind an' zun; + An' where the zwellčn pillars bore + A pworch above the heavy door, + Wi' sister sheädes a-reachčn cool + Athirt the stwones an' sparklčn pool. + + I spoke zome word that meäde en smile, + O' girt vo'k's wealth an' poor vo'k's tweil, + As if I pin'd, vor want ov greäce, + To have a lord's or squier's pleäce. + "No, no," he zaid, "what God do zend + Is best vor all o's in the end, + An' all that we do need the mwost + Do come to us wi' leäst o' cost;-- + Why, who could live upon the e'th + 'Ithout God's gīft ov aīr vor breath? + Or who could bide below the zun + If water didden rise an' run? + An' who could work below the skies + If zun an' moon did never rise? + Zoo aīr an' water, an' the light, + Be higher gifts, a-reckon'd right, + Than all the goold the darksome cla˙ + Can ever yield to zunny da˙: + But then the aīr is roun' our heads, + Abroad by day, or on our beds; + Where land do gi'e us room to bide, + Or seas do spread vor ships to ride; + An' He do zend his waters free, + Vrom clouds to lands, vrom lands to sea: + An' mornčn light do blush an' glow, + 'Ithout our tweil--'ithout our ho. + + "Zoo let us never pine, in sin, + Vor gifts that ben't the best to win; + The heaps o' goold that zome mid pile, + Wi' sleepless nights an' peaceless tweil; + Or manor that mid reach so wide + As Blackmwore is vrom zide to zide, + Or kingly swa˙, wi' life or death, + Vor helpless childern ov the e'th: + Vor theäse ben't gifts, as He do know, + That He in love should vu'st bestow; + Or else we should have had our sheäre + O'm all wi' little tweil or ceäre. + + "Ov all His choicest gifts, His cry + Is, 'Come, ye moneyless, and buy.' + Zoo blest is he that can but lift + His prayer vor a happy gift." + + + + +HERRENSTON. + + + Zoo then the leädy an' the squier, + At Chris'mas, gather'd girt an' small, + Vor me'th, avore their roarčn vier, + An! roun' their bwoard, 'ithin the hall; + An' there, in glitt'rčn rows, between + The roun'-rimm'd pleätes, our knives did sheen, + Wi' frothy eäle, an' cup an' can, + Vor maīd an' man, at Herrenston. + + An' there the jeints o' beef did stand, + Lik' cliffs o' rock, in goodly row; + Where woone mid quarry till his hand + Did tire, an' meäke but little show; + An' after we'd a-took our seat, + An' greäce had been a-zaid vor meat, + We zet to work, an' zoo begun + Our feäst an' fun at Herrenston. + + An' mothers there, bezide the bwoards, + Wi' little childern in their laps, + Did stoop, wi' lovčn looks an' words, + An' veed em up wi' bits an' draps; + An' smilčn husbands went in quest + O' what their wives did like the best; + An' you'd ha' zeed a happy zight, + Thik merry night, at Herrenston. + + An' then the band, wi' each his leaf + O' notes, above us at the zide, + Play'd up the praīse ov England's beef + An' vill'd our hearts wi' English pride; + An' leafy chaīns o' garlands hung, + Wi' dazzlčn stripes o' flags, that swung + Above us, in a bleäze o' light, + Thik happy night, at Herrenston. + + An' then the clerk, avore the vier, + Begun to lead, wi' smilčn feäce, + A carol, wi' the Monkton quire, + That rung drough all the crowded pleäce. + An' dins' o' words an' laughter broke + In merry peals drough clouds o' smoke; + Vor hardly wer there woone that spoke, + But pass'd a joke, at Herrenston. + + Then man an' maīd stood up by twos, + In rows, drough passage, out to door, + An' gaīly beät, wi' nimble shoes, + A dance upon the stwončn floor. + But who is worthy vor to tell, + If she that then did bear the bell, + Wer woone o' Monkton, or o' Ceäme, + Or zome sweet neäme ov Herrenston. + + Zoo peace betide the girt vo'k's land, + When they can stoop, wi' kindly smile, + An' teäke a poor man by the hand, + An' cheer en in his daily tweil. + An' oh! mid He that's vur above + The highest here, reward their love, + An' gi'e their happy souls, drough greäce, + A higher pleäce than Herrenston. + + + + +OUT AT PLOUGH. + + + Though cool avore the sheenčn sky + Do vall the sheädes below the copse, + The timber-trees, a-reachčn high, + Ha' zunsheen on their lofty tops, + Where yonder land's a-lyčn plow'd, + An' red, below the snow-white cloud, + An' vlocks o' pitchčn rooks do vwold + Their wings to walk upon the mwold. + While floods be low, + An' buds do grow, + An' aīr do blow, a-broad, O. + + But though the aīr is cwold below + The creakčn copses' darksome screen, + The truest sheäde do only show + How strong the warmer zun do sheen; + An' even times o' grief an' paīn, + Ha' good a-comčn in their traīn, + An' 'tis but happiness do mark + The sheädes o' sorrow out so dark. + As tweils be sad, + Or smiles be glad, + Or times be bad, at hwome, O + + An' there the zunny land do lie + Below the hangčn, in the lew, + Wi' vurrows now a-crumblčn dry, + Below the plowman's dousty shoe; + An' there the bwoy do whissel sh'ill, + Below the skylark's merry bill, + Where primrwose beds do deck the zides + O' banks below the meäple wrides. + As trees be bright + Wi' bees in flight, + An' weather's bright, abroad, O. + + An' there, as sheenčn wheels do spin + Vull speed along the dousty rwoad, + He can but stan', an' wish 'ithin + His mind to be their happy lwoad, + That he mid gaīly ride, an' goo + To towns the rwoad mid teäke en drough, + An' zee, for woonce, the zights behind + The bluest hills his eyes can vind, + O' towns, an' tow'rs, + An' downs, an' flow'rs, + In zunny hours, abroad, O. + + But still, vor all the weather's feäir, + Below a cloudless sky o' blue, + The bwoy at plough do little ceäre + How vast the brightest day mid goo; + Vor he'd be glad to zee the zun + A-zettčn, wi' his work a-done, + That he, at hwome, mid still inja˙ + His happy bit ov evenčn pla˙, + So light's a lark + Till night is dark, + While dogs do bark, at hwome, O. + + + + +THE BWOAT. + + + Where cows did slowly seek the brink + O' _Stour_, drough zunburnt grass, to drink; + Wi' vishčn float, that there did zink + An' rise, I zot as in a dream. + The dazzlčn zun did cast his light + On hedge-row blossom, snowy white, + Though nothčn yet did come in zight, + A-stirrčn on the stra˙čn stream; + + Till, out by sheädy rocks there show'd, + A bwoat along his foamy road, + Wi' thik feäir maīd at mill, a-row'd + Wi' Jeäne behind her brother's oars. + An' steätely as a queen o' vo'k, + She zot wi' floatčn scarlet cloak, + An' comčn on, at ev'ry stroke, + Between my withy-sheäded shores. + + The broken stream did idly try + To show her sheäpe a-ridčn by, + The rushes brown-bloom'd stems did ply, + As if they bow'd to her by will. + The rings o' water, wi' a sock, + Did break upon the mossy rock, + An' gi'e my beätčn heart a shock, + Above my float's up-leapčn quill. + + Then, lik' a cloud below the skies, + A-drifted off, wi' less'nčn size, + An' lost, she floated vrom my eyes, + Where down below the stream did wind; + An' left the quiet weäves woonce mwore + To zink to rest, a sky-blue'd vloor, + Wi' all so still's the clote they bore, + Aye, all but my own ruffled mind. + + + + +THE PLEÄCE OUR OWN AGEÄN. + + + Well! thanks to you, my faīthful Jeäne, + So worksome wi' your head an' hand, + We seäved enough to get ageän + My poor vorefather's plot o' land. + 'Twer folly lost, an' cunnčn got, + What should ha' come to me by lot. + But let that goo; 'tis well the land + Is come to hand, by be'th or not. + + An' there the brook, a-windčn round + The parrick zide, do run below + The grey-stwon'd bridge wi' gurglčn sound, + A-sheäded by the arches' bow; + Where former days the wold brown meäre, + Wi' father on her back, did wear + Wi' heavy shoes the grav'ly leäne, + An' sheäke her meäne o' yollor heäir. + + An' many zummers there ha' glow'd, + To shrink the brook in bubblčn shoals, + An' warm the doust upon the road, + Below the trav'ller's burnčn zoles. + An' zome ha' zent us to our bed + In grief, an' zome in ja˙ ha' vled; + But vew ha' come wi' happier light + Than what's now bright, above our head. + + The brook did peärt, zome years agoo, + Our Grenley meäds vrom Knapton's Ridge + But now you know, between the two, + A-road's a-meäde by Grenley Bridge. + Zoo why should we shrink back at zight + Ov hindrances we ought to slight? + A hearty will, wi' God our friend, + Will gaīn its end, if 'tis but right. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +_John an' Thomas._ + + + THOMAS. + + How b'ye, then, John, to-night; an' how + Be times a-waggčn on w' ye now? + I can't help slackenčn my peäce + When I do come along your pleäce, + To zee what crops your bit o' groun' + Do bear ye all the zummer roun'. + 'Tis true you don't get fruit nor blooth, + 'Ithin the glassčn houses' lewth; + But if a man can rear a crop + Where win' do blow an' raīn can drop, + Do seem to come, below your hand, + As fine as any in the land. + + JOHN. + + Well, there, the geärden stuff an' flow'rs + Don't leäve me many idle hours; + But still, though I mid plant or zow, + 'Tis Woone above do meäke it grow. + + THOMAS. + + Aye, aye, that's true, but still your strip + O' groun' do show good workmanship: + You've onions there nine inches round, + An' turmits that would waīgh a pound; + An' cabbage wi' its hard white head, + An' teäties in their dousty bed, + An' carrots big an' straīght enough + Vor any show o' geärden stuff; + An' trees ov apples, red-skinn'd balls + An' purple plums upon the walls, + An' peas an' beäns; bezides a store + O' heärbs vor ev'ry paīn an' zore. + + JOHN. + + An' over hedge the win's a-heärd, + A ruslčn drough my barley's beard; + An' swa˙en wheat do overspread + Zix ridges in a sheet o' red; + An' then there's woone thing I do call + The girtest handiness ov all: + My ground is here at hand, avore + My eyes, as I do stand at door; + An' zoo I've never any need + To goo a mile to pull a weed. + + THOMAS. + + No, sure, a miël shoulden stratch + Between woone's geärden an' woone's hatch. + A man would like his house to stand + Bezide his little bit o' land. + + JOHN. + + Ees. When woone's groun' vor geärden stuff + Is roun' below the house's ruf, + Then woone can spend upon woone's land + Odd minutes that mid lie on hand, + The while, wi' night a-comčn on, + The red west sky's a-wearčn wan; + Or while woone's wife, wi' busy hands, + Avore her vier o' burnčn brands, + Do put, as best she can avword, + Her bit o' dinner on the bwoard. + An' here, when I do teäke my road, + At breakfast-time, agwaīn abrode, + Why, I can zee if any plot + O' groun' do want a hand or not; + An' bid my childern, when there's need, + To draw a reäke or pull a weed, + Or heal young beäns or peas in line, + Or tie em up wi' rods an' twine, + Or peel a kindly withy white + To hold a droopčn flow'r upright. + + THOMAS. + + No. Bits o' time can zeldom come + To much on groun' a mile vrom hwome. + A man at hwome should have in view + The jobs his childern's hands can do, + An' groun' abrode mid teäke em all + Beyond their mother's zight an' call, + To get a zoakčn in a storm, + Or vall, i' may be, into harm. + + JOHN. + + Ees. Geärden groun', as I've a-zed, + Is better near woone's bwoard an' bed. + + + + +PENTRIDGE BY THE RIVER. + + + Pentridge!--oh! my heart's a-zwellčn + Vull o' ja˙ wi' vo'k a-tellčn + Any news o' thik wold pleäce, + An' the boughy hedges round it, + An' the river that do bound it + Wi' his dark but glis'nčn feäce. + Vor there's noo land, on either hand, + To me lik' Pentridge by the river. + + Be there any leaves to quiver + On the aspen by the river? + Doo he sheäde the water still, + Where the rushes be a-growčn, + Where the sullen Stour's a-flowčn + Drough the meäds vrom mill to mill? + Vor if a tree wer dear to me, + Oh! 'twer thik aspen by the river. + + There, in eegrass new a-shootčn, + I did run on even vootčn, + Happy, over new-mow'd land; + Or did zing wi' zingčn drushes + While I plaīted, out o' rushes, + Little baskets vor my hand; + Bezide the clote that there did float, + Wi' yollow blossoms, on the river. + + When the western zun's a vallčn, + What sh'ill vaīce is now a-callčn + Hwome the deäiry to the paīls; + Who do dreve em on, a-flingčn + Wide-bow'd horns, or slowly zwingčn + Right an' left their tufty taīls? + As they do goo a-huddled drough + The geäte a-leädčn up vrom river. + + Bleäded grass is now a-shootčn + Where the vloor wer woonce our vootčn, + While the hall wer still in pleäce. + Stwones be looser in the wallčn; + Hollow trees be nearer vallčn; + Ev'ry thing ha' chang'd its feäce. + But still the neäme do bide the seäme-- + 'Tis Pentridge--Pentridge by the river. + + + + +WHEAT. + + + In brown-leav'd Fall the wheat a-left + 'Ithin its darksome bed, + Where all the creakčn roller's heft + Seal'd down its lowly head, + Sprung sheäkčn drough the crumblčn mwold, + Green-yollow, vrom below, + An' bent its bleädes, a-glitt'rčn cwold, + At last in winter snow. + Zoo luck betide + The upland zide, + Where wheat do wride, + In corn-vields wide, + By crowns o' Do'set Downs, O. + + An' while the screamčn bird-bwoy shook + Wi' little zun-burnt hand, + His clacker at the bright-wing'd rook, + About the zeeded land; + His meäster there did come an' stop + His bridle-champčn meäre, + Wi' thankvul heart, to zee his crop + A-comčn up so feäir. + As there awhile + By geäte or stile, + He gi'ed the chile + A cheerčn smile, + By crowns o' Do'set Downs, O. + + At last, wi' eärs o' darksome red, + The yollow stalks did ply, + A-swa˙čn slow, so heavy 's lead, + In aīr a-blowčn by; + An' then the busy reapers laid + In row their russlčn grips, + An' sheäves, a-leänčn head by head, + Did meäke the stitches tips. + Zoo food's a-vound, + A-comčn round, + Vrom zeed in ground, + To sheaves a-bound, + By crowns o' Do'set Downs, O. + + An' now the wheat, in lofty lwoads, + Above the meäres' broad backs, + Do ride along the cracklčn rwoads, + Or dousty waggon-tracks. + An' there, mid every busy pick, + Ha' work enough to do; + An' where, avore, we built woone rick, + Mid theäse year gi'e us two; + Wi' God our friend, + An' wealth to spend, + Vor zome good end, + That times mid mend, + In towns, an' Do'set Downs, O. + + Zoo let the merry thatcher veel + Fine weather on his brow, + As he, in happy work, do kneel + Up roun' the new-built mow, + That now do zwell in sich a size, + An' rise to sich a height, + That, oh! the miller's wistful eyes + Do sparkle at the zight + An' long mid stand, + A happy band, + To till the land, + Wi' head an' hand, + By crowns o' Do'set Downs, O. + + + + +THE MEÄD IN JUNE. + + + Ah! how the looks o' sky an' ground + Do change wi' months a-stealčn round, + When northern winds, by starry night, + Do stop in ice the river's flight; + Or brooks in winter raīns do zwell, + Lik' rollčn seas athirt the dell; + Or trickle thin in zummer-tide; + Among the mossy stwones half dried; + But still, below the zun or moon, + The feārest vield's the meäd in June. + + An' I must own, my heart do beät + Wi' pride avore my own blue geäte, + Where I can bid the steätely tree + Be cast, at langth, avore my knee; + An' clover red, an' deäzies feaīr, + An' gil'cups wi' their yollow gleäre, + Be all a-match'd avore my zight + By wheelčn buttervlees in flight, + The while the burnčn zun at noon + Do sheen upon my meäd in June. + + An' there do zing the swingčn lark + So ga˙'s above the finest park, + An' day do sheäde my trees as true + As any steätely avenue; + An' show'ry clouds o' Spring do pass + To shed their raīn on my young grass, + An' aīr do blow the whole day long, + To bring me breath, an' teäke my zong, + An' I do miss noo needvul boon + A-gi'ed to other meäds in June. + + An' when the bloomčn rwose do ride + Upon the boughy hedge's zide, + We haymeäkers, in snow-white sleeves, + Do work in sheädes o' quiv'rčn leaves, + In afternoon, a-liftčn high + Our reäkes avore the viery sky, + A-reäken up the hay a-dried + By day, in lwongsome weäles, to bide + In chilly dew below the moon, + O' shorten'd nights in zultry June. + + An' there the brook do softly flow + Along, a-bendčn in a bow, + An' vish, wi' zides o' zilver-white, + Do flash vrom shoals a dazzlčn light; + An' alders by the water's edge, + Do sheäde the ribbon-bleäded zedge, + An' where, below the withy's head, + The zwimmčn clote-leaves be a-spread, + The angler is a-zot at noon + Upon the flow'ry bank in June. + + Vor all the aiër that do bring + My little meäd the breath o' Spring, + By day an' night's a-flowčn wide + Above all other vields bezide; + Vor all the zun above my ground + 'S a-zent vor all the naīghbours round, + An' raīn do vall, an' streams do flow, + Vor lands above, an' lands below, + My bit o' meäd is God's own boon, + To me alwone, vrom June to June. + + + + +EARLY RISČN. + + + The aīr to gi'e your cheäks a hue + O' rwosy red, so feaīr to view, + Is what do sheäke the grass-bleädes gray + At breäk o' day, in mornčn dew; + Vor vo'k that will be rathe abrode, + Will meet wi' health upon their road. + + But bidčn up till dead o' night, + When han's o' clocks do stan' upright, + By candle-light, do soon consume + The feäce's bloom, an' turn it white. + An' light a-cast vrom midnight skies + Do blunt the sparklčn ov the eyes. + + Vor health do weäke vrom nightly dreams + Below the mornčn's eärly beams, + An' leäve the dead-aīr'd houses' eaves, + Vor quiv'rčn leaves, an' bubblčn streams, + A-glitt'rčn brightly to the view, + Below a sky o' cloudless blue. + + + + +ZELLEN WOONE'S HONEY TO BUY ZOME'HAT SWEET. + + + Why, his heart's lik' a popple, so hard as a stwone, + Vor 'tis money, an' money's his ho, + An' to handle an' reckon it up vor his own, + Is the best o' the ja˙s he do know. + Why, vor money he'd gi'e up his lags an' be leäme, + Or would peärt wi' his zight an' be blind, + Or would lose vo'k's good will, vor to have a bad neäme, + Or his peace, an' have trouble o' mind. + But wi' ev'ry good thing that his meänness mid bring, + He'd pa˙ vor his money, + An' only zell honey to buy zome'hat sweet. + + He did whisper to me, "You do know that you stood + By the Squier, wi' the vote that you had, + You could ax en to help ye to zome'hat as good, + Or to vind a good pleäce vor your lad." + "Aye, aye, but if I wer beholdčn vor bread + To another," I zaid, "I should bind + All my body an' soul to the nod of his head, + An' gi'e up all my freedom o' mind." + An' then, if my paīn wer a-zet wi' my gaīn, + I should pa˙ vor my money, + An' only zell honey to buy zome'hat sweet. + + Then, if my bit o' brook that do wind so vur round, + Wer but his, why, he'd straīghten his bed, + An' the wold stunpole woak that do stan' in my ground, + Shoudden long sheäde the grass wi' his head. + But if I do vind ja˙ where the leaves be a-shook + On the limbs, wi' their sheädes on the grass, + Or below, in the bow o' the withy-bound nook, + That the rock-washčn water do pass, + Then wi' they ja˙s a-vled an' zome goold in their stead, + I should pay vor my money, + An' only zell honey to buy zome'hat sweet. + + No, be my lot good work, wi' the lungs well in pla˙, + An' good rest when the body do tire, + Vor the mind a good conscience, wi' hope or wi' ja˙, + Vor the body, good lewth, an' good vire, + There's noo good o' goold, but to buy what 'ull meäke + Vor our happiness here among men; + An' who would gi'e happiness up vor the seäke + O' zome money to buy it ageän? + Vor 'twould seem to the eyes ov a man that is wise, + Lik' money vor money, + Or zellčn woone's honey to buy zome'hat sweet. + + + + +DOBBIN DEAD. + +_Thomas_ (1) _an' John_ (2) _a-ta'čn o't._ + + + 2. I do veel vor ye, Thomas, vor I be a-feär'd + You've a-lost your wold meäre then, by what I've a-heärd. + + 1. Ees, my meäre is a-gone, an' the cart's in the shed + Wi' his wheelbonds a-rustčn, an' I'm out o' bread; + Vor what be my han's vor to eärn me a croust, + Wi' noo meäre's vower legs vor to trample the doust. + + 2. Well, how did it happen? He vell vrom the brim + Ov a cliff, as the teäle is, an' broke ev'ry lim'. + + 1. Why, I gi'ed en his run, an' he shook his wold meäne, + An' he rambled a-veedčn in Westergap Leäne; + An' there he must needs goo a-riggčn, an' crope + Vor a vew bleädes o' grass up the wo'st o' the slope; + Though I should ha' thought his wold head would ha' know'd + That vor stiff lags, lik' his, the best pleäce wer the road. + + 2. An' you hadden a-kept en so short, he must clim', + Lik' a gwoat, vor a bleäde, at the risk ov a lim'. + + 1. Noo, but there, I'm a-twold, he did clim' an' did slide, + An' did screäpe, an' did slip, on the shelvčn bank-zide, + An' at langth lost his vootčn, an' roll'd vrom the top, + Down, thump, kick, an' higgledly, piggledly, flop. + + 2. Dear me, that is bad! I do veel vor your loss, + Vor a vew years agoo, Thomas, I lost my ho'se. + + 1. How wer't? If I heärd it, I now ha' vorgot; + Wer the poor thing bewitch'd or a-pweison'd, or what? + + 2. He wer out, an' a-meäkčn his way to the brink + O' the stream at the end o' Church Leäne, vor to drink; + An' he met wi' zome yew-twigs the men had a-cast + Vrom the yew-tree, in churchyard, the road that he past. + He wer pweison'd. (1.) O dear, 'tis a hard loss to bear, + Vor a tranter's whole bread is a-lost wi' his meäre; + But ov all churches' yew-trees, I never zet eyes + On a tree that would come up to thik woone vor size. + + 2. Noo, 'tis long years agone, but do linger as clear + In my mind though as if I'd a-heärd it to year. + When King George wer in Do'set, an' show'd us his feäce + By our very own doors, at our very own pleäce, + That he look'd at thik yew-tree, an' nodded his head, + An' he zaid,--an' I'll tell ye the words that he zaid:-- + "I'll be bound, if you'll sarch my dominions all drough. + That you woon't vind the fellow to thik there wold yew." + + + + +HAPPINESS. + + + Ah! you do seem to think the ground, + Where happiness is best a-vound, + Is where the high-peäl'd park do reach + Wi' elem-rows, or clumps o' beech; + Or where the coach do stand avore + The twelve-tunn'd house's lofty door, + Or men can ride behin' their hounds + Vor miles athirt their own wide grounds, + An' seldom wi' the lowly; + Upon the green that we do tread, + Below the welsh-nut's wide-limb'd head, + Or grass where apple trees do spread? + No, so's; no, no: not high nor low: + 'Tis where the heart is holy. + + 'Tis true its veet mid tread the vloor, + 'Ithin the marble-pillar'd door, + Where day do cast, in high-ruf'd halls. + His light drough lofty window'd walls; + An' wax-white han's do never tire + Wi' strokes ov heavy work vor hire, + An' all that money can avword + Do lwoad the zilver-brighten'd bwoard: + Or mid be wi' the lowly, + Where turf's a-smwolderčn avore + The back, to warm the stwončn vloor + An' love's at hwome 'ithin the door? + No, so's; no, no; not high nor low: + 'Tis where the heart is holy. + + An' ceäre can come 'ithin a ring + O' sworded guards, to smite a king, + Though he mid hold 'ithin his hands + The zwarmčn vo'k o' many lands; + Or goo in drough the iron-geäte + Avore the house o' lofty steäte; + Or reach the miser that do smile + A-buildčn up his goolden pile; + Or else mid smite the lowly, + That have noo pow'r to loose or bind + Another's body, or his mind, + But only hands to help mankind. + If there is rest 'ithin the breast, + 'Tis where the heart is holy. + + + + +GRUFFMOODY GRIM. + + + Aye, a sad life his wife must ha' led, + Vor so snappish he's leätely a-come, + That there's nothčn but anger or dread + Where he is, abroad or at hwome; + He do wreak all his spite on the bwones + O' whatever do vlee, or do crawl; + He do quarrel wi' stocks, an' wi' stwones, + An' the raīn, if do hold up or vall; + There is nothčn vrom mornčn till night + Do come right to Gruffmoody Grim. + + Woone night, in his anger, he zwore + At the vier, that didden burn free: + An' he het zome o't out on the vloor, + Vor a vlanker it cast on his knee. + Then he kicked it vor burnčn the child, + An' het it among the cat's heaīrs; + An' then beät the cat, a-run wild, + Wi' a spark on her back up the steaīrs: + Vor even the vier an' fleäme + Be to bleäme wi' Gruffmoody Grim. + + Then he snarl'd at the tea in his cup, + Vor 'twer all a-got cwold in the pot, + But 'twer woo'se when his wife vill'd it up + Vrom the vier, vor 'twer then scaldčn hot; + Then he growl'd that the bread wer sich stuff + As noo hammer in parish could crack, + An' flung down the knife in a huff; + Vor the edge o'n wer thicker'n the back. + Vor beäkers an' meäkers o' tools + Be all fools wi' Gruffmoody Grim. + + Oone day as he vish'd at the brook, + He flung up, wi' a quick-handed knack, + His long line, an' his high-vlečn hook + Wer a-hitch'd in zome briars at his back. + Then he zwore at the brembles, an' prick'd + His beäre hand, as he pull'd the hook free; + An' ageän, in a rage, as he kick'd + At the briars, wer a-scratch'd on the knee. + An' he wish'd ev'ry bremble an' briar + Wer o' vier, did Gruffmoody Grim. + + Oh! he's welcome, vor me, to breed dread + Wherever his sheäde mid alight, + An' to live wi' noo me'th round his head, + An' noo feäce wi' a smile in his zight; + But let vo'k be all merry an' zing + At the he'th where my own logs do burn, + An' let anger's wild vist never swing + In where I have a door on his durn; + Vor I'll be a happier man, + While I can, than Gruffmoody Grim. + + To zit down by the vier at night, + Is my ja˙--vor I woon't call it pride,-- + Wi' a brand on the bricks, all alight, + An' a pile o' zome mwore at the zide. + Then tell me o' zome'hat that's droll, + An' I'll laugh till my two zides do eäche + Or o' naīghbours in sorrow o' soul, + An' I'll tweil all the night vor their seäke; + An' show that to teäke things amiss + Idden bliss, to Gruffmoody Grim. + + An' then let my child clim' my lag, + An' I'll lift en, wi' love, to my chin; + Or my maīd come an' coax me to bag + Vor a frock, an' a frock she shall win; + Or, then if my wife do meäke light + O' whatever the bwoys mid ha' broke, + It wull seem but so small in my zight, + As a leaf a-het down vrom a woak + An' not meäke me ceäper an' froth + Vull o' wrath, lik' Gruffmoody Grim. + + + + +THE TURN O' THE DAYS. + + + O the wings o' the rook wer a-glitterčn bright, + As he wheel'd on above, in the zun's evenčn light, + An' noo snow wer a-left, but in patches o' white, + On the hill at the turn o' the days. + An' along on the slope wer the beäre-timber'd copse, + Wi' the dry wood a-sheäkčn, wi' red-twiggčd tops. + Vor the dry-flowčn wind, had a-blow'd off the drops + O' the raīn, at the turn o' the days. + + There the stream did run on, in the sheäde o' the hill, + So smooth in his flowčn, as if he stood still, + An' bright wi' the skylight, did slide to the mill, + By the meäds, at the turn o' the days. + An' up by the copse, down along the hill brow, + Wer vurrows a-cut down, by men out at plough, + So straīght as the zunbeams, a-shot drough the bough + O' the tree at the turn o' the days. + + Then the boomčn wold clock in the tower did mark + His vive hours, avore the cool evenčn wer dark, + An' ivy did glitter a-clung round the bark + O' the tree, at the turn o' the days. + An' womčn a-fraīd o' the road in the night, + Wer a-heästenčn on to reach hwome by the light, + A-castčn long sheädes on the road, a-dried white, + Down the hill, at the turn o' the days. + + The father an' mother did walk out to view + The moss-bedded snow-drop, a-sprung in the lew, + An' hear if the birds wer a-zingčn anew, + In the boughs, at the turn o' the days. + An' young vo'k a-laughčn wi' smooth glossy feäce, + Did hie over vields, wi' a light-vooted peäce, + To friends where the tow'r did betoken a pleäce + Among trees, at the turn o' the days. + + + + +THE SPARROW CLUB. + + + Last night the merry farmers' sons, + Vrom biggest down to leäst, min, + Gi'ed in the work of all their guns, + An' had their sparrow feäst, min. + An' who vor woone good merry soul + Should goo to sheäre their me'th, min, + But Gammon Ga˙, a chap so droll, + He'd meäke ye laugh to death, min. + + Vor heads o' sparrows they've a-shot + They'll have a prize in cwein, min, + That is, if they can meäke their scot, + Or else they'll pa˙ a fine, min. + An' all the money they can teäke + 'S a-gather'd up there-right, min, + An' spent in meat an' drink, to meäke + A supper vor the night, min. + + Zoo when they took away the cloth, + In middle of their din, min, + An' cups o' eäle begun to froth, + Below their merry chin, min. + An' when the zong, by turn or chaīce, + Went roun' vrom tongue to tongue, min, + Then Gammon pitch'd his merry vaīce, + An' here's the zong he zung, min. + + _Zong._ + + If you'll but let your clackers rest + Vrom jabberčn an' hootčn, + I'll teäke my turn, an' do my best, + To zing o' sparrow shootčn. + Since every woone mus' pitch his key, + An' zing a zong, in coo'se, lads, + Why sparrow heads shall be to-day + The heads o' my discoo'se, lads. + + We'll zend abroad our viery haīl + Till ev'ry foe's a-vled, lads, + An' though the rogues mid all turn taīl, + We'll quickly show their head, lads. + In corn, or out on oben ground, + In bush, or up in tree, lads, + If we don't kill em, I'll be bound, + We'll meäke their veathers vlee, lads. + + Zoo let the belted spwortsmen brag + When they've a-won a neäme, so's, + That they do vind, or they do bag, + Zoo many head o' geäme, so's; + Vor when our cwein is woonce a-won, + By heads o' sundry sizes, + Why, who can slight what we've a-done? + We've all a-won _head_ prizes. + + Then teäke a drap vor harmless fun, + But not enough to quarrel; + Though where a man do like the gun, + He can't but need the barrel. + O' goodly feäre, avore we'll start, + We'll zit an' teäke our vill, min; + Our supper-bill can be but short, + 'Tis but a sparrow-bill, min. + + + + +GAMMONY GA[:Y]. + + + Oh! thik Gammony Ga˙ is so droll, + That if he's at hwome by the he'th, + Or wi' vo'k out o' door, he's the soul + O' the meetčn vor antics an' me'th; + He do cast off the thoughts ov ill luck + As the water's a-shot vrom a duck; + He do zing where his naīghbours would cry + He do laugh where the rest o's would sigh: + Noo other's so merry o' feäce, + In the pleäce, as Gammony Ga˙. + + An' o' workčn days, Oh! he do wear + Such a funny roun' hat,--you mid know't-- + Wi' a brim all a-strout roun' his heäir, + An' his glissenčn eyes down below't; + An' a cwoat wi' broad skirts that do vlee + In the wind ov his walk, round his knee; + An' a peäir o' girt pockets lik' bags, + That do swing an' do bob at his lags: + While me'th do walk out drough the pleäce, + In the feäce o' Gammony Ga˙. + + An' if he do goo over groun' + Wi' noo soul vor to greet wi' his words, + The feäce o'n do look up an' down, + An' round en so quick as a bird's; + An' if he do vall in wi' vo'k, + Why, tidden vor want ov a joke, + If he don't zend em on vrom the pleäce + Wi' a smile or a grin on their feäce: + An' the young wi' the wold have a-heärd + A kind word vrom Gammony Ga˙. + + An' when he do whissel or hum, + 'Ithout thinkčn o' what he's a-dočn, + He'll beät his own lags vor a drum, + An' bob his ga˙ head to the tučn; + An' then you mid zee, 'etween whiles, + His feäce all alive wi' his smiles, + An' his ga˙-breathčn bozom do rise, + An' his me'th do sheen out ov his eyes: + An' at last to have praīse or have bleäme, + Is the seäme to Gammony Ga˙. + + When he drove his wold cart out, an' broke + The nut o' the wheel at a butt. + There wer "woo'se things," he cried, wi' a joke. + "To grieve at than crackčn a nut." + An' when he tipp'd over a lwoad + Ov his reed-sheaves woone day on the rwoad, + Then he spet in his han's, out o' sleeves, + An' whissel'd, an' flung up his sheaves, + As very vew others can wag, + Eärm or lag, but Gammony Ga˙. + + He wer wi' us woone night when the band + Wer a-come vor to gi'e us a hop, + An' he pull'd Grammer out by the hand + All down drough the dance vrom the top; + An' Grammer did hobble an' squall, + Wi' Gammon a-leädčn the ball; + While Gammon did sheäke up his knee + An' his voot, an' zing "Diddle-ee-dee!" + An' we laugh'd ourzelves all out o' breath + At the me'th o' Gammony Ga˙. + + When our tun wer' o' vier he rod + Out to help us, an' meäde us sich fun, + Vor he clomb up to dreve in a wad + O' wet thorns, to the he'th, vrom the tun; + An' there he did stamp wi' his voot, + To push down the thorns an' the zoot, + Till at last down the chimney's black wall + Went the wad, an' poor Gammon an' all: + An' seäfe on the he'th, wi' a grin + On his chin pitch'd Gammony Ga˙. + + All the house-dogs do waggle their taīls, + If they do but catch zight ov his feäce; + An' the ho'ses do look over raīls, + An' do whicker to zee'n at the pleäce; + An' he'll always bestow a good word + On a cat or a whisselčn bird; + An' even if culvers do coo, + Or an owl is a-cryčn "Hoo, hoo," + Where he is, there's always a joke + To be spoke, by Gammony Ga˙. + + + + +THE HEARE. + +(_Dree o'm a-ta'kčn o't._) + + + (1) There be the greyhounds! lo'k! an' there's the heäre! + (2) What houn's, the squier's, Thomas? where, then, where? + + (1) Why, out in Ash Hill, near the barn, behind + Thik tree. (3) The pollard? (1) Pollard! no, b'ye blind? + (2) There, I do zee em over-right thik cow. + (3) The red woone? (1) No, a mile beyand her now. + (3) Oh! there's the heäre, a-meäkčn for the drong. + (2) My goodness! How the dogs do zweep along, + A-pokčn out their pweinted noses' tips. + (3) He can't allow hizzelf much time vor slips! + (1) They'll hab'en, after all, I'll bet a crown. + (2) Done vor a crown. They woon't! He's gwäin to groun'. + (3) He is! (1) He idden! (3) Ah! 'tis well his tooes + Ha' got noo corns, inside o' hobnaīl shoes. + (1) He's geäme a runnčn too. Why, he do mwore + Than eärn his life. (3) His life wer his avore. + (1) There, now the dogs wull turn en. (2) No! He's right. + (1) He idden! (2) Ees he is! (3) He's out o' zight. + (1) Aye, aye. His mettle wull be well a-tried + Agwaīn down Verny Hill, o' tother zide. + They'll have en there. (3) O no! a vew good hops + Wull teäke en on to Knapton Lower Copse. + (2) An' that's a meesh that he've a-took avore. + (3) Ees, that's his hwome. (1) He'll never reach his door. + (2) He wull. (1) He woon't. (3) Now, hark, d'ye heär em now? + (2) O! here's a bwoy a-come athirt the brow + O' Knapton Hill. We'll ax en. (1) Here, my bwoy! + Can'st tell us where's the heäre? (4) He's got awoy. + (2) Ees, got awoy, in coo'se, I never zeed + A heäre a-scotčn on wi' half his speed. + (1) Why, there, the dogs be wold, an' half a-done. + They can't catch anything wi' lags to run. + (2) Vrom vu'st to last they had but little chance + O' catchčn o'n. (3) They had a perty dance. + (1) No, catch en, no! I little thought they would; + He know'd his road too well to Knapton Wood. + (3) No! no! I wish the squier would let me feäre + On rabbits till his hounds do catch thik heäre. + + + + +NANNY GILL. + + + Ah! they wer times, when Nanny Gill + Went so'jerčn ageänst her will, + Back when the King come down to view + His ho'se an' voot, in red an' blue, + An' they did march in rows, + An' wheel in lines an' bows, + Below the King's own nose; + An' guns did pwoint, an' swords did gleäre, + A-fightčn foes that werden there. + + Poor Nanny Gill did goo to zell + In town her glitt'rčn macarel, + A-pack'd wi' ceäre, in even lots, + A-ho'seback in a peäir o' pots. + An' zoo when she did ride + Between her panniers wide, + Red-cloked in all her pride, + Why, who but she, an' who but broke + The road avore her scarlet cloke! + + But Nanny's ho'se that she did ride, + Woonce carr'd a sword ageän his zide, + An' had, to prick en into rank, + A so'jer's spurs ageän his flank; + An' zoo, when he got zight + O' swords a-gleamčn bright, + An' men agwaīn to fight, + He set his eyes athirt the ground, + An' prick'd his ears to catch the sound. + + Then Nanny gi'ed his zide a kick, + An' het en wi' her limber stick; + But suddenly a horn did sound, + An' zend the ho'semen on vull bound; + An' her ho'se at the zight + Went after em, vull flight, + Wi' Nanny in a fright, + A-pullčn, wi' a scream an' grin, + Her wold brown raīns to hold en in. + + But no! he went away vull bound, + As vast as he could tear the ground, + An' took, in line, a so'jer's pleäce, + Vor Nanny's cloke an' frighten'd feäce; + While vo'k did laugh an' shout + To zee her cloke stream out, + As she did wheel about, + A-cryčn, "Oh! la! dear!" in fright, + The while her ho'se did pla˙ sham fight. + + + + +MOONLIGHT ON THE DOOR. + + + A-swa˙čn slow, the poplar's head, + Above the slopčn thatch did ply, + The while the midnight moon did shed + His light below the spangled sky. + An' there the road did reach avore + The hatch, all vootless down the hill; + An' hands, a-tired by day, wer still, + Wi' moonlight on the door. + + A-boomčn deep, did slowly sound + The bell, a-tellčn middle night; + The while the quiv'rčn ivy, round + The tree, did sheäke in softest light. + But vootless wer the stwone avore + The house where I, the maīdens guest, + At evenčn, woonce did zit at rest + By moonlight on the door. + + Though till the dawn, where night's a-meäde + The day, the laughčn crowds be ga˙, + Let evenčn zink wi' quiet sheäde, + Where I do hold my little swa˙. + An' childern dear to my heart's core, + A-sleep wi' little heavčn breast, + That pank'd by day in pla˙, do rest + Wi' moonlight on the door. + + But still 'tis good, woonce now an' then + To rove where moonlight on the land + Do show in vaīn, vor heedless men, + The road, the vield, the work in hand. + When curtains be a-hung avore + The glitt'rčn windows, snowy white, + An' vine-leaf sheädes do sheäke in light + O' moonlight on the door. + + + + +MY LOVE'S GUARDIAN ANGEL. + + + As in the cool-aīr'd road I come by, + --in the night, + Under the moon-clim'd height o' the sky, + --in the night, + There by the lime's broad lim's as I sta˙'d, + Dark in the moonlight, bough's sheädows pla˙'d + Up on the window-glass that did keep + Lew vrom the wind, my true love asleep, + --in the night. + + While in the grey-wall'd height o' the tow'r, + --in the night, + Sounded the midnight bell wi' the hour, + --in the night, + There lo! a bright-heäir'd angel that shed + Light vrom her white robe's zilvery thread, + Put her vore-vinger up vor to meäke + Silence around lest sleepers mid weäke, + --in the night. + + "Oh! then," I whisper'd, do I behold + --in the night. + Linda, my true-love, here in the cwold, + --in the night?" + "No," she meäde answer, "you do misteäke: + She is asleep, but I that do weäke, + Here be on watch, an' angel a-blest, + Over her slumber while she do rest, + --in the night." + + "Zee how the winds, while here by the bough, + --in the night, + They do pass on, don't smite on her brow, + in the night; + Zee how the cloud-sheädes naīseless do zweep + Over the house-top where she's asleep. + You, too, goo by, in times that be near, + You too, as I, mid speak in her ear + --in the night." + + + + +LEEBURN MILL, + + + Ov all the meäds wi' shoals an' pools, + Where streams did sheäke the limber zedge, + An' milkčn vo'k did teäke their stools, + In evenčn zun-light under hedge: + Ov all the wears the brook did vill, + Or all the hatches where a sheet + O' foam did leäp below woone's veet, + The pleäce vor me wer Leeburn Mill. + + An' while below the mossy wheel + All day the foamčn stream did roar, + An' up in mill the floatčn meal + Did pitch upon the sheäkčn vloor. + We then could vind but vew han's still, + Or veet a-restčn off the ground, + An' seldom hear the merry sound + O' geämes a-play'd at Leeburn Mill. + + But when they let the stream goo free, + Bezide the drippčn wheel at rest, + An' leaves upon the poplar-tree + Wer dark avore the glowčn west; + An' when the clock, a-ringčn sh'ill, + Did slowly beät zome evenčn hour, + Oh! then 'ithin the leafy bow'r + Our tongues did run at Leeburn Mill. + + An' when November's win' did blow, + Wi' hufflčn storms along the plaīn, + An' blacken'd leaves did lie below + The neäked tree, a-zoak'd wi' raīn, + I werden at a loss to vill + The darkest hour o' raīny skies, + If I did vind avore my eyes + The feäces down at Leeburn Mill. + + + + +PRAISE O' DO'SET. + + + We Do'set, though we mid be hwomely, + Be'nt asheäm'd to own our pleäce; + An' we've zome women not uncomely; + Nor asheäm'd to show their feäce: + We've a meäd or two wo'th mowčn, + We've an ox or two we'th showčn, + In the village, + At the tillage, + Come along an' you shall vind + That Do'set men don't sheäme their kind. + Friend an' wife, + Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, + Happy, happy, be their life! + Vor Do'set dear, + Then gi'e woone cheer; + D'ye hear? woone cheer! + + If you in Do'set be a-roamčn, + An' ha' business at a farm, + Then woont ye zee your eäle a-foamčn! + Or your cider down to warm? + Woont ye have brown bread a-put ye, + An' some vinny cheese a-cut ye? + Butter?--rolls o't! + Cream?--why bowls o't! + Woont ye have, in short, your vill, + A-gi'ed wi' a right good will? + Friend an' wife, + Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers. + Happy, happy, be their life! + Vor Do'set dear, + Then gi'e woone cheer; + D'ye hear? woone cheer! + + An' woont ye have vor ev'ry shillčn, + Shillčn's wo'th at any shop, + Though Do'set chaps be up to zellčn, + An' can meäke a tidy swop? + Use em well, they'll use you better; + In good turns they woont be debtor. + An' so comely, + An' so hwomely, + Be the maīdens, if your son + Took woone o'm, then you'd cry "Well done!" + Friend an' wife, + Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, + Happy, happy, be their life! + Vor Do'set dear, + Then gi'e woone cheer; + D'ye hear? woone cheer! + + If you do zee our good men travel, + Down a-voot, or on their meäres, + Along the windčn leänes o' gravel, + To the markets or the feäirs,-- + Though their ho'ses cwoats be ragged, + Though the men be muddy-laggčd, + Be they roughish, + Be they gruffish, + They be sound, an' they will stand + By what is right wi' heart an' hand. + Friend an' wife, + Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, + Happy, happy, be their life! + Vor Do'set dear, + Then gi'e woone cheer; + D'ye hear? woone cheer! + + + + +POEMS OF RURAL LIFE. + + +THIRD COLLECTION. + + + + +WOONE SMILE MWORE. + + + O! Meäry, when the zun went down, + Woone night in Spring, wi' vi'ry rim, + Behind thik nap wi' woody crown, + An' left your smilčn feäce so dim; + Your little sister there, inside, + Wi' bellows on her little knee, + Did blow the vier, a-glearčn wide + Drough window-peänes, that I could zee,-- + As you did stan' wi' me, avore + The house, a-peärten,--woone smile mwore. + + The chatt'rčn birds, a-risčn high, + An' zinkčn low, did swiftly vlee + Vrom shrinkčn moss, a-growčn dry, + Upon the leänčn apple tree. + An' there the dog, a-whippčn wide + His heäiry taīl, an' comčn near, + Did fondly lay ageän your zide + His coal-black nose an' russet ear: + To win what I'd a-won avore, + Vrom your ga˙ feäce, his woone smile mwore. + + An' while your mother bustled sprack, + A-gettčn supper out in hall, + An' cast her sheäde, a-whiv'rčn black + Avore the vier, upon the wall; + Your brother come, wi' easy peäce, + In drough the slammčn geäte, along + The path, wi' healthy-bloomčn feäce, + A-whis'lčn shrill his last new zong; + An' when he come avore the door, + He met vrom you his woone smile mwore. + + Now you that wer the daughter there, + Be mother on a husband's vloor, + An' mid ye meet wi' less o' ceäre + Than what your hearty mother bore; + An' if abroad I have to rue + The bitter tongue, or wrongvul deed, + Mid I come hwome to sheäre wi' you + What's needvul free o' pinchčn need: + An' vind that you ha' still in store, + My evenčn meal, an' woone smile mwore. + + + + +THE ECHO. + + + About the tow'r an' churchyard wall, + Out nearly overright our door, + A tongue ov wind did always call + Whatever we did call avore. + The vaīce did mock our neämes, our cheers, + Our merry laughs, our hands' loud claps, + An' mother's call "Come, come, my dears" + --_my dears_; + Or "Do as I do bid, bad chaps" + --_bad chaps_. + + An' when o' Zundays on the green, + In frocks an' cwoats as ga˙ as new, + We walk'd wi' shoes a-meäde to sheen + So black an' bright's a vull-ripe slooe + We then did hear the tongue ov aīr + A-mockčn mother's vaīce so thin, + "Come, now the bell do goo vor pra˙'r" + --_vor pray'r_; + "'Tis time to goo to church; come in" + --_come in_. + + The night when little Anne, that died, + Begun to zickčn, back in Ma˙, + An' she, at dusk ov evenčn-tide, + Wer out wi' others at their pla˙, + Within the churchyard that do keep + Her little bed, the vaīce o' thin + Dark aīr, mock'd mother's call "To sleep" + --_to sleep_; + "'Tis bed time now, my love, come in" + --_come in_. + + An' when our Jeäne come out so smart + A-married, an' we help'd her in + To Henry's newly-paīnted cart, + The while the wheels begun to spin, + An' her ga˙ nods, vor all she smil'd, + Did sheäke a tear-drop vrom each eye, + The vaīce mock'd mother's call, "Dear child" + --_dear child_; + "God bless ye evermwore; good bye" + --_good bye_. + + + + +VULL A MAN. + + + No, I'm a man, I'm vull a man, + You beät my manhood, if you can. + You'll be a man if you can teäke + All steätes that household life do meäke. + The love-toss'd child, a-croodlčn loud, + The bwoy a-screamčn wild in pla˙, + The tall grown youth a-steppčn proud, + The father staīd, the house's sta˙. + No; I can boast if others can, + I'm vull a man. + + A young-cheäk'd mother's tears mid vall, + When woone a-lost, not half man-tall, + Vrom little hand, a-called vrom pla˙, + Do leäve noo tool, but drop a ta˙, + An' die avore he's father-free + To sheäpe his life by his own plan; + An' vull an angel he shall be, + But here on e'th not vull a man, + No; I could boast if others can, + I'm vull a man. + + I woonce, a child, wer father-fed, + An' I've a vound my childern bread; + My eärm, a sister's trusty crook, + Is now a faīthvul wife's own hook; + An' I've a-gone where vo'k did zend, + An' gone upon my own free mind, + An' of'en at my own wits' end. + A-led o' God while I wer blind. + No; I could boast if others can + I'm vull a man. + + An' still, ov all my tweil ha' won, + My lovčn maīd an' merry son, + Though each in turn's a ja˙ an' ceäre, + 'Ve a-had, an' still shall have, their sheäre: + An' then, if God should bless their lives, + Why I mid zend vrom son to son + My life, right on drough men an' wives, + As long, good now, as time do run. + No; I could boast if others can, + I'm vull a man. + + + + +NAIGHBOUR PLA[:Y]MEÄTES. + + + O ja˙ betide the dear wold mill, + My naīghbour pla˙meätes' happy hwome, + Wi' rollčn wheel, an' leäpčn foam, + Below the overhangčn hill, + Where, wide an' slow, + The stream did flow, + An' flags did grow, an' lightly vlee + Below the grey-leav'd withy tree, + While clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour, + Wi' whirlčn stwone, an' streamčn flour, + Did goo the mill by cloty Stour. + + An' there in geämes by evenčn skies, + When Meäry zot her down to rest, + The broach upon her pankčn breast, + Did quickly vall an' lightly rise, + While swans did zwim + In steätely trim. + An' swifts did skim the water, bright + Wi' whirlčn froth, in western light; + An' clack, clack, clack, that happy hour, + Wi' whirlčn stwone, an' streamčn flour, + Did goo the mill by cloty Stour. + + Now mortery jeints, in streaks o' white, + Along the geärdčn wall do show + In Ma˙, an' cherry boughs do blow, + Wi' bloomčn tutties, snowy white, + Where rollčn round, + Wi' rumblčn sound, + The wheel woonce drown'd the vaīce so dear + To me. I faīn would goo to hear + The clack, clack, clack, vor woone short hour, + Wi' whirlčn stwone, an' streamčn flour, + Bezide the mill on cloty Stour. + + But should I vind a-heavčn now + Her breast wi' aīr o' thik dear pleäce? + Or zee dark locks by such a brow, + Or het o' pla˙ on such a feäce? + No! She's now staīd, + An' where she pla˙'d, + There's noo such maīd that now ha' took + The pleäce that she ha' long vorsook, + Though clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour, + Wi' whirlčn stwone an' streamčn flour, + Do goo the mill by cloty Stour. + + An' still the pulley rwope do heist + The wheat vrom red-wheeled waggon beds. + An' ho'ses there wi' lwoads of grist, + Do stand an' toss their heavy heads; + But on the vloor, + Or at the door, + Do show noo mwore the kindly feäce + Her father show'd about the pleäce, + As clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour, + Wi' whirlčn stwone, an' streamčn flour, + Did goo his mill by cloty Stour. + + + + +THE LARK. + + + As I, below the mornčn sky, + Wer out a workčn in the lew + O' black-stemm'd thorns, a-springčn high, + Avore the worold-boundčn blue, + A-reäkčn, under woak tree boughs, + The orts a-left behin' by cows. + + Above the grey-grow'd thistle rings, + An' deäisy-buds, the lark, in flight, + Did zing a-loft, wi' flappčn wings, + Tho' mwore in heärčn than in zight; + The while my bwoys, in pla˙vul me'th, + Did run till they wer out o' breath. + + Then woone, wi' han'-besheäded eyes, + A-stoppčn still, as he did run, + Look'd up to zee the lark arise + A-zingčn to the high-gone zun; + The while his brother look'd below + Vor what the groun' mid have to show + + Zoo woone did watch above his head + The bird his hands could never teäke; + An' woone, below, where he did tread, + Vound out the nest within the breäke; + But, aggs be only woonce a-vound, + An' uncaught larks ageän mid sound. + + + + +THE TWO CHURCHES. + + + A happy day, a happy year. + A zummer Zunday, dazzlčn clear, + I went athirt vrom Lea to Noke. + To goo to church wi' Fanny's vo'k: + The sky o' blue did only show + A cloud or two, so white as snow, + An' aīr did swa˙, wi' softest strokes, + The eltrot roun' the dark-bough'd woaks. + O day o' rest when bells do toll! + O day a-blest to ev'ry soul! + How sweet the zwells o' Zunday bells. + + An' on the cowslip-knap at Creech, + Below the grove o' steätely beech, + I heärd two tow'rs a-cheemčn clear, + Vrom woone I went, to woone drew near, + As they did call, by flow'ry ground, + The bright-shod veet vrom housen round, + A-drownčn wi' their holy call, + The goocoo an' the water-vall. + Die off, O bells o' my dear pleäce, + Ring out, O bells avore my feäce, + Vull sweet your zwells, O ding-dong bells. + + Ah! then vor things that time did bring + My kinsvo'k, _Lea_ had bells to ring; + An' then, ageän, vor what bevell + My wife's, why _Noke_ church had a bell; + But soon wi' hopevul lives a-bound + In woone, we had woone tower's sound, + Vor our high ja˙s all vive bells rung + Our losses had woone iron tongue. + Oh! ring all round, an' never mwoän + So deep an' slow woone bell alwone, + Vor sweet your swells o' vive clear bells. + + + + +WOAK HILL. + + + When sycamore leaves wer a-spreadčn, + Green-ruddy, in hedges, + Bezide the red doust o' the ridges, + A-dried at Woak Hill; + + I packed up my goods all a-sheenčn + Wi' long years o' handlčn, + On dousty red wheels ov a waggon, + To ride at Woak Hill. + + The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellčn, + I then wer a-leävčn, + Had shelter'd the sleek head o' Meäry, + My bride at Woak Hill. + + But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall + 'S a-lost vrom the vloorčn. + Too soon vor my ja˙ an' my childern, + She died at Woak Hill. + + But still I do think that, in soul, + She do hover about us; + To ho vor her motherless childern, + Her pride at Woak Hill. + + Zoo--lest she should tell me hereafter + I stole off 'ithout her, + An' left her, uncall'd at house-riddčn, + To bide at Woak Hill-- + + I call'd her so fondly, wi' lippčns + All soundless to others, + An' took her wi' aīr-reachčn hand, + To my zide at Woak Hill. + + On the road I did look round, a-talkčn + To light at my shoulder, + An' then led her in at the door-way, + Miles wide vrom Woak Hill. + + An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season, + My mind wer a-wandrčn + Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely + A-tried at Woak Hill. + + But no; that my Meäry mid never + Behold herzelf slighted, + I wanted to think that I guided + My guide vrom Woak Hill. + + + + +THE HEDGER. + + + Upon the hedge theäse bank did bear, + Wi' lwonesome thought untwold in words, + I woonce did work, wi' noo sound there + But my own strokes, an' chirpčn birds; + As down the west the zun went wan, + An' days brought on our Zunday's rest, + When sounds o' cheemčn bells did vill + The aīr, an' hook an' axe wer stīll. + + Along the wold town-path vo'k went, + An' met unknown, or friend wi' friend, + The maīd her busy mother zent, + The mother wi' noo maīd to zend; + An' in the light the gleäzier's glass, + As he did pass, wer dazzlčn bright, + Or woone went by wī' down-cast head, + A wrapp'd in blackness vor the dead. + + An' then the bank, wi' risčn back, + That's now a-most a-troddčn down, + Bore thorns wi' rind o' sheeny black, + An' meäple stems o' ribby brown; + An' in the lewth o' theäse tree heads, + Wer primrwose beds a-sprung in blooth, + An' here a geäte, a-slammčn to, + Did let the slow-wheel'd plough roll drough. + + Ov all that then went by, but vew + Be now a-left behine', to beät + The mornčn flow'rs or evenčn dew, + Or slam the woakčn vive-bar'd geäte; + But woone, my wife, so litty-stepp'd, + That have a-kept my path o' life, + Wi' her vew errands on the road, + Where woonce she bore her mother's lwoad. + + + + +IN THE SPRING. + + + My love is the maīd ov all maīdens, + Though all mid be comely, + Her skin's lik' the jessamy blossom + A-spread in the Spring. + + Her smile is so sweet as a beäby's + Young smile on his mother, + Her eyes be as bright as the dew drop + A-shed in the Spring. + + O grey-leafy pinks o' the geärden, + Now bear her sweet blossoms; + Now deck wi' a rwose-bud, O briar. + Her head in the Spring. + + O light-rollčn wind blow me hither, + The väice ov her talkčn, + Or bring vrom her veet the light doust, + She do tread in the Spring. + + O zun, meäke the gil'cups all glitter, + In goold all around her; + An' meäke o' the deäisys' white flowers + A bed in the Spring. + + O whissle ga˙ birds, up bezide her, + In drong-wa˙, an' woodlands, + O zing, swingčn lark, now the clouds, + Be a-vled in the Spring. + + An' who, you mid ax, be my praīses + A-meäkčn so much o', + An' oh! 'tis the maīd I'm a-hopčn + To wed in the Spring. + + + + +THE FLOOD IN SPRING. + + + Last night below the elem in the lew + Bright the sky did gleam + On water blue, while aīr did softly blow + On the flowčn stream, + An' there wer gil'cups' buds untwold, + An' deäisies that begun to vwold + Their low-stemm'd blossoms vrom my zight + Ageän the night, an' evenčn's cwold. + + But, oh! so cwold below the darksome cloud + Soon the night-wind roar'd, + Wi' raīny storms that zent the zwollčn streams + Over ev'ry vword. + The while the drippčn tow'r did tell + The hour, wi' storm-be-smother'd bell, + An' over ev'ry flower's bud + Roll'd on the flood, 'ithin the dell. + + But when the zun arose, an' lik' a rwose + Shone the mornčn sky; + An' roun' the woak, the wind a-blowčn weak, + Softly whiver'd by. + Though drown'd wer still the deaīsy bed + Below the flood, its feäce instead + O' flow'ry grown', below our shoes + Show'd feäirest views o' skies o'er head. + + An' zoo to try if all our faīth is true + Ja˙ mid end in tears, + An' hope, woonce feäir, mid saddčn into fear, + Here in e'thly years. + But He that tried our soul do know + To meäke us good amends, an' show + Instead o' things a-took awa˙, + Some higher ja˙ that He'll bestow. + + + + +COMEN HWOME. + + + As clouds did ride wi' heästy flight. + An' woods did swäy upon the height, + An' bleädes o' grass did sheäke, below + The hedge-row bremble's swingčn bow, + I come back hwome where winds did zwell, + In whirls along the woody gleädes, + On primrwose beds, in windy sheädes, + To Burnley's dark-tree'd dell. + + There hills do screen the timber's bough, + The trees do screen the leäze's brow, + The timber-sheäded leäze do bear + A beäten path that we do wear. + The path do stripe the leäze's zide, + To willows at the river's edge. + Where hufflčn winds did sheäke the zedge + An' sparklčn weäves did glide. + + An' where the river, bend by bend, + Do dräin our meäd, an' mark its end, + The hangčn leäze do teäke our cows, + An' trees do sheäde em wi' their boughs, + An' I the quicker beät the road, + To zee a-comčn into view, + Still greener vrom the sky-line's blue, + Wold Burnley our abode. + + + + +GRAMMER A-CRIPPLED. + + + "The zunny copse ha' birds to zing, + The leäze ha' cows to low, + The elem trees ha' rooks on wing, + The meäds a brook to flow, + But I can walk noo mwore, to pass + The drashel out abrode, + To wear a path in theäse year's grass + Or tread the wheelworn road," + Cried Grammer, "then adieu, + O runnčn brooks, + An' vlečn rooks, + I can't come out to you. + If 'tis God's will, why then 'tis well, + That I should bide 'ithin a wall." + + An' then the childern, wild wi' fun, + An' loud wi' ja˙vul sounds, + Sprung in an' cried, "We had a run, + A-pla˙čn heäre an' hounds; + But oh! the cowslips where we stopt + In Ma˙creech, on the knap!" + An' vrom their little han's each dropt + Some cowslips in her lap. + Cried Grammer, "Only zee! + I can't teäke strolls, + An' little souls + Would bring the vields to me. + Since 'tis God's will, an' mus' be well + That I should bide 'ithin a wall." + + "Oh! there be prison walls to hold + The han's o' lawless crimes, + An' there be walls arear'd vor wold + An' zick in tryčn times; + But oh! though low mid slant my ruf, + Though hard my lot mid be, + Though dry mid come my daily lwoaf, + Mid mercy leäve me free!" + Cried Grammer, "Or adieu + To ja˙; O grounds, + An' bird's ga˙ sounds + If I mus' gi'e up you, + Although 'tis well, in God's good will, + That I should bide 'ithin a wall." + + "Oh! then," we answer'd, "never fret, + If we shall be a-blest, + We'll work vull hard drough het an' wet + To keep your heart at rest: + To woaken chair's vor you to vill, + For you shall glow the coal, + An' when the win' do whissle sh'ill + We'll screen it vrom your poll." + Cried Grammer, "God is true. + I can't but feel + He smote to heal + My wounded heart in you; + An' zoo 'tis well, if 'tis His will, + That I be here 'ithin a wall." + + + + +THE CASTLE RUINS. + + + A happy day at Whitsuntide, + As soon's the zun begun to vall, + We all stroll'd up the steep hill-zide + To Meldon, girt an' small; + Out where the castle wall stood high + A-mwoldrčn to the zunny sky. + + An' there wi' Jenny took a stroll + Her youngest sister, Poll, so ga˙, + Bezide John Hind, ah! merry soul, + An' mid her wedlock fa˙; + An' at our zides did play an' run + My little maīd an' smaller son. + + Above the beäten mwold upsprung + The driven doust, a-spreadën light, + An' on the new-leav'd thorn, a-hung, + Wer wool a-quiv'rčn white; + An' corn, a sheenčn bright, did bow, + On slopčn Meldon's zunny brow. + + There, down the rufless wall did glow + The zun upon the grassy vloor, + An' weakly-wandrčn winds did blow, + Unhinder'd by a door; + An' smokeless now avore the zun + Did stan' the ivy-girded tun. + + My bwoy did watch the daws' bright wings + A-flappčn vrom their ivy bow'rs; + My wife did watch my maīd's light springs, + Out here an' there vor flow'rs; + And John did zee noo tow'rs, the pleäce + Vor him had only Polly's feäce. + + An' there, of all that pried about + The walls, I overlook'd em best, + An' what o' that? Why, I meäde out + Noo mwore than all the rest: + That there wer woonce the nest of zome + That wer a-gone avore we come. + + When woonce above the tun the smoke + Did wreathy blue among the trees, + An' down below, the livčn vo'k, + Did tweil as brisk as bees; + Or zit wi' weary knees, the while + The sky wer lightless to their tweil. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +JOHN, JEALOUS AT SHROTON FEÄIR. + +_Jeäne; her Brother; John, her Sweetheart; and Racketčn Joe_ + + + JEÄNE. + + I'm thankvul I be out o' that + Thick crowd, an' not asquot quite flat. + That ever we should plunge in where the vo'k do drunge + So tight's the cheese-wring on the veät! + I've sca'ce a thing a-left in pleäce. + 'Tis all a-tore vrom pin an' leäce. + My bonnet's like a wad, a-beät up to a dod, + An' all my heäir's about my feäce. + + HER BROTHER. + + Here, come an' zit out here a bit, + An' put yourzelf to rights. + + JOHN. + + No, Jeäne; no, no! Now you don't show + The very wo'st o' plights. + + HER BROTHER. + + Come, come, there's little harm adone; + Your hoops be out so roun's the zun. + + JOHN. + + An' there's your bonnet back in sheäpe. + + HER BROTHER. + + An' there's your pin, and there's your ceäpe. + + JOHN. + + An' there your curls do match, an' there + 'S the vittiest maīd in all the feäir. + + JEÄNE. + + Now look, an' tell us who's a-spied + Vrom Sturminster, or Manston zide. + + HER BROTHER. + + There's rantčn Joe! How he do stalk, + An' zwang his whip, an' laugh, an' talk! + + JOHN. + + An' how his head do wag, avore his steppčn lag. + Jist like a pigeon's in a walk! + + HER BROTHER. + + Heigh! there, then, Joey, ben't we proud + + JEÄNE. + + He can't hear you among the crowd. + + HER BROTHER. + + Why, no, the thunder peals do drown the sound o' wheels. + His own pipe is a-pitched too loud. + What, you here too? + + RACKETČN JOE. + + Yes, Sir, to you. + All o' me that's a-left. + + JEÄNE. + + A body plump's a goodish lump + Where reämes ha' such a heft. + + JOHN. + + Who lost his crown a-racčn? + + RACKETČN JOE. + + Who? + Zome silly chap abackčn you. + Well, now, an' how do vo'k treat Jeäne? + + JEÄNE. + + Why not wi' feärčns. + + RACKETČN JOE. + + What d'ye meän, + When I've a-brought ye such a bunch + O' theäse nice ginger-nuts to crunch? + An' here, John, here! you teäke a vew. + + JOHN. + + No, keep em all vor Jeäne an' you! + + RACKETČN JOE. + + Well, Jeäne, an' when d'ye meän to come + An' call on me, then, up at hwome. + You han't a-come athirt, since I'd my voot a-hurt, + A-slippčn vrom the tree I clomb. + + JEÄNE. + + Well, if so be that you be stout + On voot ageän, you'll vind me out. + + JOHN. + + Aye, better chaps woont goo, not many steps vor you, + If you do hawk yourzelf about. + + RACKETČN JOE. + + Wull John, come too? + + JOHN. + + No, thanks to you. + Two's company, dree's nwone. + + HER BROTHER. + + There don't be stung by his mad tongue, + 'Tis nothčn else but fun. + + JEÄNE. + + There, what d'ye think o' my new ceäpe? + + JOHN. + + Why, think that 'tis an ugly sheäpe. + + JEÄNE. + + Then you should buy me, now theäse feäir, + A mwore becomčn woone to wear. + + JOHN. + + I buy your ceäpe! No; Joe wull screäpe + Up dibs enough to buy your ceäpe. + As things do look, to meäke you fine + Is long Joe's business mwore than mine. + + JEÄNE. + + Lauk, John, the mwore that you do pout + The mwore he'll gl[=e]ne. + + JOHN. + + A yelpčn lout. + + + + +EARLY PLA[:Y]MEÄTE. + + + After many long years had a-run, + The while I wer a-gone vrom the pleäce, + I come back to the vields, where the zun + Ov her childhood did show me her feäce. + There her father, years wolder, did stoop. + An' her brother, wer now a-grow'd staīd, + An' the apple tree lower did droop. + Out in the orcha'd where we had a-pla˙'d, + There wer zome things a-seemčn the seäme, + But Meäry's a-married awa˙. + + There wer two little childern a-zent, + Wi' a message to me, oh! so feaīr + As the mother that they did zoo ment, + When in childhood she pla˙'d wi' me there. + Zoo they twold me that if I would come + Down to Coomb, I should zee a wold friend, + Vor a pla˙meäte o' mine wer at hwome, + An' would sta˙ till another week's end. + At the dear pworchčd door, could I dare + To zee Meäry a-married awa˙! + + On the flower-not, now all a-trod + Stwony hard, the green grass wer a-spread, + An' the long-slighted woodbine did nod + Vrom the wall, wi' a loose-hangčn head. + An' the martin's clay nest wer a-hung + Up below the brown oves, in the dry, + An' the rooks had a-rock'd broods o' young + On the elems below the Ma˙ sky; + But the bud on the bed, coulden bide, + Wi' young Meäry a-married awa˙. + + There the copse-wood, a-grow'd to a height, + Wer a-vell'd, an' the primrwose in blooth, + Among chips on the ground a-turn'd white, + Wer a-quiv'rčn, all beäre ov his lewth. + The green moss wer a-spread on the thatch, + That I left yollow reed, an' avore + The small green, there did swing a new hatch, + Vor to let me walk into the door. + Oh! the rook did still rock o'er the rick, + But wi' Meäry a-married awa˙. + + + + +PICKEN O' SCROFF. + + + Oh! the wood wer a-vell'd in the copse, + An' the moss-bedded primrwose did blow; + An' vrom tall-stemmčd trees' leafless tops, + There did lie but slight sheädes down below. + An' the sky wer a-showčn, in drough + By the tree-stems, the deepest o' blue, + Wi' a light that did vall on an' off + The dry ground, a-strew'd over wi' scroff. + + There the hedge that wer leätely so high, + Wer a-plush'd, an' along by the zide, + Where the waggon 'd a-haul'd the wood by, + There did reach the deep wheelrouts, a-dried. + An' the groun' wi' the sticks wer bespread, + Zome a-cut off alive, an' zome dead. + An' vor burnčn, well wo'th reäkčn off, + By the childern a-pickčn o' scroff. + + In the tree-studded leäze, where the woak + Wer a-spreadčn his head out around, + There the scrags that the wind had a-broke, + Wer a-lyčn about on the ground + Or the childern, wi' little red hands, + Wer a-tyčn em up in their bands; + Vor noo squier or farmer turn'd off + Little childern a-pickčn o' scroff. + + There wer woone bloomčn child wi' a cloak + On her shoulders, as green as the ground; + An' another, as gray as the woak, + Wi' a bwoy in a brown frock, a-brown'd. + An' woone got up, in pla˙, vor to taīt, + On a woak-limb, a-growčn out straīght. + But she soon wer a-taīted down off, + By her meätes out a-pickčn o' scroff. + + When they childern do grow to staīd vo'k, + An' goo out in the worold, all wide + Vrom the copse, an' the zummerleäze woak, + Where at last all their elders ha' died, + They wull then vind it touchčn to bring, + To their minds, the sweet springs o' their spring, + Back avore the new vo'k did turn off + The poor childern a-pickčn o' scroff. + + + + +GOOD NIGHT. + + + While down the meäds wound slow, + Water vor green-wheel'd mills, + Over the streams bright bow, + Win' come vrom dark-back'd hills. + Birds on the win' shot along down steep + Slopes, wi' a swift-swung zweep. + Dim weän'd the red streak'd west + Lim'-weary souls "Good rest." + + Up on the plough'd hill brow, + Still wer the zull's wheel'd beam, + Still wer the red-wheel'd plough, + Free o' the strong limb'd team, + Still wer the shop that the smith meäde ring, + Dark where the sparks did spring; + Low shot the zun's last beams. + Lim'-weary souls "Good dreams." + + Where I vrom dark bank-sheädes + Turn'd up the west hill road, + Where all the green grass bleädes + Under the zunlight glow'd. + Startled I met, as the zunbeams play'd + Light, wi' a zunsmote maīd, + Come vor my day's last zight, + Zun-brighten'd maīd "Good night." + + + + +WENT HWOME. + + + Upon the slope, the hedge did bound + The yield wi' blossom-whited zide, + An' charlock patches, yollow-dyed, + Did reach along the white-soil'd ground, + An' vo'k, a-comčn up vrom meäd, + Brought gil'cup meal upon the shoe; + Or went on where the road did leäd, + Wi' smeechy doust from heel to tooe. + As noon did smite, wi' burnčn light, + The road so white, to Meldonley. + + An' I did tramp the zun-dried ground, + By hedge-climb'd hills, a-spread wi' flow'rs, + An' watershootčn dells, an' tow'rs, + By elem-trees a-hemm'd all round, + To zee a vew wold friends, about + Wold Meldon, where I still ha' zome, + That bid me speed as I come out, + An' now ha' bid me welcome hwome, + As I did goo, while skies wer blue, + Vrom view to view, to Meldonley. + + An' there wer timber'd knaps, that show'd + Cool sheädes, vor rest, on grassy ground, + An' thatch-brow'd windows, flower-bound, + Where I could wish wer my abode. + I pass'd the maīd avore the spring, + An' shepherd by the thornčn tree; + An' heärd the merry dréver zing, + But met noo kith or kin to me, + Till I come down, vrom Meldon's crown + To rufs o' brown, at Meldonley. + + + + +THE HOLLOW WOAK. + + + The woaken tree, so hollow now, + To souls ov other times wer sound, + An' reach'd on ev'ry zide a bough + Above their heads, a-gather'd round, + But zome light veet + That here did meet + In friendship sweet, vor rest or ja˙, + Shall be a-miss'd another Ma˙. + + My childern here, in pla˙vul pride + Did zit 'ithin his wooden walls, + A-mentčn steätely vo'k inside + O' castle towers an' lofty halls. + But now the vloor + An' mossy door + That woonce they wore would be too small + To teäke em in, so big an' tall. + + Theäse year do show, wi' snow-white cloud, + An' deäsies in a sprinkled bed, + An' green-bough birds a-whislčn loud, + The looks o' zummer days a-vled; + An' grass do grow, + An' men do mow, + An' all do show the wold times' feäce + Wi' new things in the wold things' pleäce. + + + + +CHILDERN'S CHILDERN. + + + Oh! if my ling'rčn life should run, + Drough years a-reckoned ten by ten, + Below the never-tirčn zun, + Till beäbes ageän be wives an' men; + An' stillest deafness should ha' bound + My ears, at last, vrom ev'ry sound; + Though still my eyes in that sweet light, + Should have the zight o' sky an' ground: + Would then my steäte + In time so leäte, + Be ja˙ or paīn, be paīn or ja˙? + + When Zunday then, a-weänčn dim, + As theäse that now's a-clwosčn still, + Mid lose the zun's down-zinkčn rim, + In light behind the vier-bound hill; + An' when the bells' last peal's a-rung, + An' I mid zee the wold an' young + A-vlockčn by, but shoulden hear, + However near, a voot or tongue: + Mid zuch a zight, + In that soft light + Be ja˙ or paīn, be paīn or ja˙. + + If I should zee among em all, + In merry youth, a-glidčn by, + My son's bwold son, a-grown man-tall, + Or daughter's daughter, woman-high; + An' she mid smile wi' your good feäce, + Or she mid walk your comely peäce, + But seem, although a-chattčn loud, + So dumb's a cloud, in that bright pleäce: + Would youth so feäir, + A-passčn there, + Be ja˙ or paīn, be paīn or ja˙. + + 'Tis seldom strangth or comeliness + Do leäve us long. The house do show + Men's sons wi' mwore, as they ha' less, + An' daughters brisk, vor mothers slow. + A dawn do clear the night's dim sky, + Woone star do zink, an' woone goo high, + An' livčn gifts o' youth do vall, + Vrom girt to small, but never die: + An' should I view, + What God mid do, + Wi' ja˙ or paīn, wi' paīn or ja˙? + + + + +THE RWOSE IN THE DARK. + + + In zummer, leäte at evenčn tide, + I zot to spend a moonless hour + 'Ithin the window, wi' the zide + A-bound wi' rwoses out in flow'r, + Bezide the bow'r, vorsook o' birds, + An' listen'd to my true-love's words. + + A-risčn to her comely height, + She push'd the swingčn ceäsement round; + And I could hear, beyond my zight, + The win'-blow'd beech-tree softly sound, + On higher ground, a-swayčn slow, + On drough my happy hour below. + + An' tho' the darkness then did hide + The dewy rwose's blushčn bloom, + He still did cast sweet aīr inside + To Jeäne, a-chattčn in the room; + An' though the gloom did hide her feäce, + Her words did bind me to the pleäce. + + An' there, while she, wi' runnčn tongue, + Did talk unzeen 'ithin the hall, + I thought her like the rwose that flung + His sweetness vrom his darken'd ball, + 'Ithout the wall, an' sweet's the zight + Ov her bright feäce by mornčn light. + + + + +COME. + + + Wull ye come in eärly Spring, + Come at Easter, or in Ma˙? + Or when Whitsuntide mid bring + Longer light to show your wa˙? + Wull ye come, if you be true, + Vor to quicken love anew. + Wull ye call in Spring or Fall? + Come now soon by zun or moon? + Wull ye come? + + Come wi' vaīce to vaīce the while + All their words be sweet to hear; + Come that feäce to feäce mid smile, + While their smiles do seem so dear; + Come within the year to seek + Woone you have sought woonce a week? + Come while flow'rs be on the bow'rs. + And the bird o' zong's a-heärd. + Wull ye come? + + Ees come _to_ ye, an' come _vor_ ye, is my word, + I wull come. + + + + +ZUMMER WINDS. + + + Let me work, but mid noo tie + Hold me vrom the oben sky, + When zummer winds, in pla˙some flight, + Do blow on vields in noon-day light, + Or ruslčn trees, in twilight night. + Sweet's a stroll, + By flow'ry knowl, or blue-feäcčd pool + That zummer win's do ruffle cool. + + When the moon's broad light do vill + Plaīns, a-sheenčn down the hill; + A-glitterčn on window glass, + O then, while zummer win's do pass + The rippled brook, an' swa˙čn grass, + Sweet's a walk, + Where we do talk, wi' feäces bright, + In whispers in the peacevul night. + + When the swa˙čn men do mow + Flow'ry grass, wi' zweepčn blow, + In het a-most enough to dry + The flat-spread clote-leaf that do lie + Upon the stream a-stealčn by, + Sweet's their rest, + Upon the breast o' knap or mound + Out where the goocoo's vaīce do sound. + + Where the sleek-heäir'd maīd do zit + Out o' door to zew or knit, + Below the elem where the spring + 'S a-runnčn, an' the road do bring + The people by to hear her zing, + On the green, + Where she's a-zeen, an' she can zee, + O ga˙ is she below the tree. + + Come, O zummer wind, an' bring + Sounds o' birds as they do zing, + An' bring the smell o' bloomčn ma˙, + An' bring the smell o' new-mow'd ha˙; + Come fan my feäce as I do stra˙, + Fan the heäir + O' Jessie feäir; fan her cool, + By the weäves o' stream or pool. + + + + +THE NEÄME LETTERS. + + + When high-flown larks wer on the wing, + A warm-aīr'd holiday in Spring, + We stroll'd, 'ithout a ceäre or frown, + Up roun' the down at Meldonley; + An' where the hawthorn-tree did stand + Alwone, but still wi' mwore at hand, + We zot wi' sheädes o' clouds on high + A-flittčn by, at Meldonley. + + An' there, the while the tree did sheäde + Their gigglčn heads, my knife's keen bleäde + Carved out, in turf avore my knee, + J. L., *T. D., at Meldonley. + 'Twer Jessie Lee J. L. did meän, + T. D. did stan' vor Thomas Deäne; + The "L" I scratch'd but slight, vor he + Mid soon be D, at Meldonley. + + An' when the vields o' wheat did spread + Vrom hedge to hedge in sheets o' red. + An' bennets wer a-sheäkčn brown. + Upon the down at Meldonley, + We stroll'd ageän along the hill, + An' at the hawthorn-tree stood still, + To zee J. L. vor Jessie Lee, + An' my T. D., at Meldonley. + + The grey-poll'd bennet-stems did hem + Each half-hid letter's zunken rim, + By leädy's-vingers that did spread + In yollow red, at Meldonley. + An' heärebells there wi' light blue bell + Shook soundless on the letter L, + To ment the bells when L vor Lee + Become a D at Meldonley. + + Vor Jessie, now my wife, do strive + Wi' me in life, an' we do thrive; + Two sleek-heäired meäres do sprackly pull + My waggon vull, at Meldonley; + An' small-hoof'd sheep, in vleeces white, + Wi' quickly-pankčn zides, do bite + My thymy grass, a-mark'd vor me + In black, T. D., at Meldonley. + + + + +THE NEW HOUSE A-GETTČN WOLD. + + + Ah! when our wedded life begun, + Theäse clean-wall'd house of ours wer new; + Wi' thatch as yollor as the zun + Avore the cloudless sky o' blue; + The sky o' blue that then did bound + The blue-hilled worold's flow'ry ground. + + An' we've a-vound it weather-brown'd, + As Spring-tide blossoms oben'd white, + Or Fall did shed, on zunburnt ground, + Red apples from their leafy height: + Their leafy height, that Winter soon + Left leafless to the cool-feäced moon. + + An' raīn-bred moss ha' staīn'd wi' green + The smooth-feäced wall's white-morter'd streaks, + The while our childern zot between + Our seats avore the fleäme's red peaks: + The fleäme's red peaks, till axan white + Did quench em vor the long-sleep'd night. + + The bloom that woonce did overspread + Your rounded cheäk, as time went by, + A-shrinkčn to a patch o' red, + Did feäde so soft's the evenčn sky: + The evenčn sky, my faithful wife, + O' days as feäir's our happy life. + + + + +ZUNDAY. + + + In zummer, when the sheädes do creep + Below the Zunday steeple, round + The mossy stwones, that love cut deep + Wi' neämes that tongues noo mwore do sound, + The leäne do lose the stalkčn team, + An' dry-rimm'd waggon-wheels be still, + An' hills do roll their down-shot stream + Below the restčn wheel at mill. + O holy day, when tweil do ceäse, + Sweet day o' rest an' greäce an' peäce! + + The eegrass, vor a while unwrung + By hoof or shoe, 's a sheenčn bright, + An' clover flowers be a-sprung + On new-mow'd knaps in beds o' white, + An' sweet wild rwoses, up among + The hedge-row boughs, do yield their smells. + To aīer that do bear along + The loud-rung peals o' Zunday bells, + Upon the day o' days the best, + The day o' greäce an' peäce an' rest. + + By brightshod veet, in peäir an' peäir, + Wi' comely steps the road's a-took + To church, an' work-free han's do beär + Woone's walkčn stick or sister's book; + An' there the bloomčn niece do come + To zee her aunt, in all her best; + Or married daughter do bring hwome + Her vu'st sweet child upon her breast, + As she do seek the holy pleäce, + The day o' rest an' peäce an' greäce. + + + + +THE PILLAR'D GEÄTE. + + + As I come by, zome years agoo, + A-burnt below a sky o' blue, + 'Ithin the pillar'd geäte there zung + A vaīce a-soundčn sweet an' young, + That meäde me veel awhile to zwim + In weäves o' ja˙ to hear its hymn; + Vor all the zinger, angel-bright, + Wer then a-hidden vrom my zight, + An' I wer then too low + To seek a meäte to match my steäte + 'Ithin the lofty-pillar'd geäte, + Wi' stwončn balls upon the walls: + Oh, no! my heart, no, no. + + Another time as I come by + The house, below a dark-blue sky, + The pillar'd geäte wer oben wide, + An' who should be a-show'd inside, + But she, the comely maīd whose hymn + Woonce meäde my giddy braīn to zwim, + A-zittčn in the sheäde to zew, + A-clad in robes as white as snow. + What then? could I so low + Look out a meäte ov higher steäte + So ga˙ 'ithin a pillar'd geäte, + Wi' high walls round the smooth-mow'd ground? + Oh, no! my heart, no, no. + + Long years stole by, a-glidčn slow, + Wi' winter cwold an' zummer glow, + An' she wer then a widow, clad + In grey; but comely, though so sad; + Her husband, heartless to his bride, + Spent all her store an' wealth, an' died, + Though she noo mwore could now rejaīce, + Yet sweet did sound her zongless vaīce. + But had she, in her woe, + The higher steäte she had o' leäte + 'Ithin the lofty pillar'd geäte, + Wi' stwončn balls upon the walls? + Oh, no! my heart, no, no. + + But while she vell, my Meäker's greäce + Led me to teäke a higher pleäce, + An' lighten'd up my mind wi' lore, + An' bless'd me wi' a worldly store; + But still noo winsome feäce or vaīce, + Had ever been my wedded chaīce; + An' then I thought, why do I mwope + Alwone without a ja˙ or hope? + Would she still think me low? + Or scorn a meäte, in my feäir steäte, + In here 'ithin a pillar'd geäte, + A happy pleäce wi' her kind feäce? + Oh, no! my hope, no, no. + + I don't stand out 'tis only feäte + Do gi'e to each his wedded meäte; + But eet there's woone above the rest, + That every soul can like the best. + An' my wold love's a-kindled new, + An' my wold dream's a-come out true; + But while I had noo soul to sheäre + My good an' ill, an' jäy an ceäre, + Should I have bliss below, + In gleämčn pleäte an' lofty steäte + 'Ithin the lofty pillar'd geäte, + Wi' feäirest flow'rs, an' ponds an' tow'rs? + Oh, no! my heart, no, no. + + + + +ZUMMER STREAM. + + + Ah! then the grassy-meäded Ma˙ + Did warm the passčn year, an' gleam + Upon the yellow-grounded stream, + That still by beech-tree sheädes do stra˙. + The light o' weäves, a-runnčn there, + Did pla˙ on leaves up over head, + An' vishes sceäly zides did gleäre, + A-dartčn on the shallow bed, + An' like the stream a-slidčn on, + My zun out-measur'd time's agone. + + There by the path, in grass knee-high, + Wer buttervlees in giddy flight, + All white above the deäisies white, + Or blue below the deep blue sky. + Then glowčn warm wer ev'ry brow, + O' maīd, or man, in zummer het, + An' warm did glow the cheäks I met + That time, noo mwore to meet em now. + As brooks, a-slidčn on their bed, + My season-measur'd time's a-vled. + + Vrom yonder window, in the thatch, + Did sound the maīdens' merry words, + As I did stand, by zingčn birds, + Bezide the elem-sheäded hatch. + 'Tis good to come back to the pleäce, + Back to the time, to goo noo mwore; + 'Tis good to meet the younger feäce + A-mentčn others here avore. + As streams do glide by green mead-grass, + My zummer-brighten'd years do pass. + + + + +LINDA DEÄNE. + + + The bright-tunn'd house, a-risčn proud, + Stood high avore a zummer cloud, + An' windy sheädes o' tow'rs did vall + Upon the many-window'd wall; + An' on the grassy terrace, bright + Wi' white-bloom'd zummer's deaīsy beds, + An' snow-white lilies noddčn heads, + Sweet Linda Deäne did walk in white; + But ah! avore too high a door, + Wer Linda Deäne ov Ellendon. + + When sparklčn brooks an' grassy ground, + By keen-aīr'd Winter's vrost wer bound, + An' star-bright snow did streak the forms + O' beäre-lim'd trees in darksome storms, + Sweet Linda Deäne did lightly glide, + Wi' snow-white robe an' rwosy feäce, + Upon the smooth-vloor'd hall, to treäce + The merry dance o' Chris'mas tide; + But oh! not mine be balls so fine + As Linda Deäne's at Ellendon. + + Sweet Linda Deäne do match the skies + Wi' sheenčn blue o' glisnčn eyes, + An' feaīrest blossoms do but show + Her forehead's white, an' feäce's glow; + But there's a winsome ja˙ above, + The brightest hues ov e'th an' skies. + The dearest zight o' many eyes, + Would be the smile o' Linda's love; + But high above my lowly love + Is Linda Deäne ov Ellendon. + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +COME AND ZEE US IN THE ZUMMER. + +_John; William; William's Bwoy; and William's Maīd at Feäir._ + + + JOHN. + + Zoo here be your childern, a-sheärčn + Your feäir-day, an' each wi' a feäirčn. + + WILLIAM. + + Aye, well, there's noo peace 'ithout comčn + To stannčn an' show, in the zummer. + + JOHN. + + An' how is your Jeäne? still as merry + As ever, wi' cheäks lik' a cherry? + + WILLIAM. + + Still merry, but beauty's as feädesome + 'S the raīn's glowčn bow in the zummer. + + JOHN. + + Well now, I do hope we shall vind ye + Come soon, wi' your childern behind ye, + To Stowe, while o' bwoth zides o' hedges, + The zunsheen do glow in the zummer. + + WILLIAM. + + Well, aye, when the mowčn is over, + An' ee-grass do whiten wi' clover. + A man's a-tired out, vor much walken, + The while he do mow in the zummer. + + WILLIAM'S BWOY. + + I'll goo, an' we'll zet up a wicket, + An' have a good innčns at cricket; + An' teäke a good plounce in the water. + Where clote-leaves do grow in the zummer. + + WILLIAM'S MAID. + + I'll goo, an' we'll play "Thread the needle" + Or "Huntčn the slipper," or wheedle + Young Jemmy to fiddle, an' reely + So brisk to an' fro in the zummer. + + JOHN. + + An' Jeäne. Mind you don't come 'ithout her, + My wife is a-thinkčn about her; + At our house she'll find she's as welcome + 'S the rwose that do blow in the zummer. + + + + +LINDENORE. + + + At Lindenore upon the steep, + Bezide the trees a-reachčn high, + The while their lower limbs do zweep + The river-stream a-flowčn by; + By grægle bells in beds o' blue, + Below the tree-stems in the lew, + Calm aīr do vind the rwose-bound door, + Ov Ellen Dare o' Lindenore. + + An' there noo foam do hiss avore + Swift bwoats, wi' water-plowčn keels, + An' there noo broad high-road's a-wore + By vur-brought trav'lers' cracklčn wheels; + Noo crowd's a-passčn to and fro, + Upon the bridge's high-sprung bow: + An' vew but I do seek the door + Ov Ellen Dare o' Lindenore. + + Vor there the town, wi' zun-bright walls, + Do sheen vur off, by hills o' grey, + An' town-vo'k ha' but seldom calls + O' business there, from day to day: + But Ellen didden leäve her ruf + To be admir'd, an' that's enough-- + Vor I've a-vound 'ithin her door, + Feäir Ellen Dare o' Lindenore. + + + + +ME'TH BELOW THE TREE. + + + O when theäse elems' crooked boughs, + A'most too thin to sheäde the cows, + Did slowly swing above the grass + As winds o' Spring did softly pass, + An' zunlight show'd the shiftčn sheäde, + While youthful me'th wi' laughter loud, + Did twist his lim's among the crowd + Down there below; up there above + Wer bright-ey'd me'th below the tree. + + Down there the merry vo'k did vill + The stwončn doorway, now so still; + An' zome did joke, wi' ceäsement wide, + Wi' other vo'k a-stood outside, + Wi' words that head by head did heed. + Below blue sky an' blue-smok'd tun, + 'Twer ja˙ to zee an' hear their fun, + But sweeter ja˙ up here above + Wi' bright-ey'd me'th below the tree. + + Now unknown veet do beät the vloor, + An' unknown han's do shut the door, + An' unknown men do ride abrode, + An' hwome ageän on thik wold road, + Drough geätes all now a-hung anew. + Noo mind but mine ageän can call + Wold feäces back around the wall, + Down there below, or here above, + Wi' bright-ey'd me'th below the tree. + + Aye, pride mid seek the crowded pleäce + To show his head an' frownčn feäce, + An' pleasure vlee, wi' goold in hand, + Vor zights to zee vrom land to land, + Where winds do blow on seas o' blue:-- + Noo wealth wer mine to travel wide + Vor ja˙, wi' Pleasure or wi' Pride: + My happiness wer here above + The feäst, wi' me'th below the tree. + + The wild rwose now do hang in zight, + To mornčn zun an' evenčn light, + The bird do whissle in the gloom, + Avore the thissle out in bloom, + But here alwone the tree do leän. + The twig that woonce did whiver there + Is now a limb a-wither'd beäre: + Zoo I do miss the sheäde above + My head, an' me'th below the tree. + + + + +TREAT WELL YOUR WIFE. + + + No, no, good Meäster Collins cried, + Why you've a good wife at your zide; + Zoo do believe the heart is true + That gi'ed up all bezide vor you, + An' still beheäve as you begun + To seek the love that you've a-won + When woonce in dewy June, + In hours o' hope soft eyes did flash, + Each bright below his sheädy lash, + A-glisnčn to the moon. + + Think how her girlhood met noo ceäre + To peäle the bloom her feäce did weär, + An' how her glossy temple prest + Her pillow down, in still-feäced rest, + While sheädes o' window bars did vall + In moonlight on the gloomy wall, + In cool-aīr'd nights o' June; + The while her lids, wi' bendčn streäks + O' lashes, met above her cheäks, + A-bloomčn to the moon. + + Think how she left her childhood's pleäce, + An' only sister's long-known feäce, + An' brother's jokes so much a-miss'd, + An' mother's cheäk, the last a-kiss'd; + An' how she lighted down avore + Her new abode, a husband's door, + Your weddčn night in June; + Wi' heart that beät wi' hope an' fear, + While on each eye-lash hung a tear, + A-glisnčn to the moon. + + Think how her father zot all dum', + A-thinkčn on her, back at hwome, + The while grey axan gather'd thick, + On dyčn embers, on the brick; + An' how her mother look'd abrode, + Drough window, down the moon-bright road, + Thik cloudless night o' June, + Wi' tears upon her lashes big + As raīn-drops on a slender twig, + A-glisnčn to the moon. + + Zoo don't zit thoughtless at your cup + An' keep your wife a-wäitčn up, + The while the clock's a-tickčn slow + The chilly hours o' vrost an' snow, + Until the zinkčn candle's light + Is out avore her drowsy sight, + A-dimm'd wi' grief too soon; + A-leävčn there alwone to murn + The feädčn cheäk that woonce did burn, + A-bloomčn to the moon. + + + + +THE CHILD AN' THE MOWERS. + + + O, aye! they had woone child bezide, + An' a finer your eyes never met, + 'Twer a dear little fellow that died + In the zummer that come wi' such het; + By the mowers, too thoughtless in fun, + He wer then a-zent off vrom our eyes, + Vrom the light ov the dew-dryčn zun,-- + Aye! vrom days under blue-hollow'd skies. + + He went out to the mowers in meäd, + When the zun wer a-rose to his height, + An' the men wer a-swingčn the sneäd, + Wi' their eärms in white sleeves, left an' right; + An' out there, as they rested at noon, + O! they drench'd en vrom eäle-horns too deep, + Till his thoughts wer a-drown'd in a swoon; + Aye! his life wer a-smother'd in sleep. + + Then they laid en there-right on the ground, + On a grass-heap, a-zweltrčn wi' het, + Wi' his heäir all a-wetted around + His young feäce, wi' the big drops o' zweat; + In his little left palm he'd a-zet, + Wi' his right hand, his vore-vinger's tip, + As for zome'hat he woulden vorget,-- + Aye! zome thought that he woulden let slip. + + Then they took en in hwome to his bed, + An' he rose vrom his pillow noo mwore, + Vor the curls on his sleek little head + To be blown by the wind out o' door. + Vor he died while the häy russled grey + On the staddle so leätely begun: + Lik' the mown-grass a-dried by the day,-- + Aye! the zwath-flow'r's a-killed by the zun. + + + + +THE LOVE CHILD. + + + Where the bridge out at Woodley did stride, + Wi' his wide arches' cool sheäded bow, + Up above the clear brook that did slide + By the popples, befoam'd white as snow: + As the gilcups did quiver among + The white deäisies, a-spread in a sheet. + There a quick-trippčn maīd come along,-- + Aye, a girl wi' her light-steppčn veet. + + An' she cried "I do pra˙, is the road + Out to Lincham on here, by the meäd?" + An' "oh! ees," I meäde answer, an' show'd + Her the way it would turn an' would leäd: + "Goo along by the beech in the nook, + Where the childern do play in the cool, + To the steppčn stwones over the brook,-- + Aye, the grey blocks o' rock at the pool." + + "Then you don't seem a-born an' a-bred," + I spoke up, "at a place here about;" + An' she answer'd wi' cheäks up so red + As a pi'ny but leäte a-come out, + "No, I liv'd wi' my uncle that died + Back in Eäpril, an' now I'm a-come + Here to Ham, to my mother, to bide,-- + Aye, to her house to vind a new hwome." + + I'm asheämed that I wanted to know + Any mwore of her childhood or life, + But then, why should so feäir a child grow + Where noo father did bide wi' his wife; + Then wi' blushes of zunrisčn morn, + She replied "that it midden be known, + "Oh! they zent me away to be born,--[C] + Aye, they hid me when zome would be shown." + + Oh! it meäde me a'most teary-ey'd, + An' I vound I a'most could ha' groan'd-- + What! so winnčn, an' still cast a-zide-- + What! so lovely, an' not to be own'd; + Oh! a God-gift a-treated wi' scorn, + Oh! a child that a squier should own; + An' to zend her away to be born!-- + Aye, to hide her where others be shown! + +[Footnote C: Words once spoken to the writer.] + + + + +HAWTHORN DOWN. + + + All up the down's cool brow + I work'd in noontide's gleäre, + On where the slow-wheel'd plow + 'D a-wore the grass half bare. + An' gil'cups quiver'd quick, + As aīr did pass, + An' deäisies huddled thick + Among the grass. + + The while my eärms did swing + Wi' work I had on hand, + The quick-wing'd lark did zing + Above the green-tree'd land, + An' bwoys below me chafed + The dog vor fun, + An' he, vor all they laef'd, + Did meäke em run. + + The south zide o' the hill, + My own tun-smoke rose blue,-- + In North Coomb, near the mill, + My mother's wer in view-- + Where woonce her vier vor all + Ov us did burn, + As I have childern small + Round mine in turn. + + An' zoo I still wull cheer + Her life wi' my small store, + As she do drop a tear + Bezide her lwonesome door. + The love that I do owe + Her ruf, I'll pa˙, + An' then zit down below + My own wi' ja˙. + + + + +OBEN VIELDS. + + + Well, you mid keep the town an' street, + Wi' grassless stwones to beät your veet, + An' zunless windows where your brows + Be never cooled by swa˙čn boughs; + An' let me end, as I begun, + My days in oben aīr an' zun, + Where zummer win's a-blowčn sweet, + Wi' blooth o' trees as white's a sheet; + Or swa˙čn boughs, a-bendčn low + Wi' rip'nčn apples in a row, + An' we a-risčn rathe do meet + The bright'nčn dawn wi' dewy veet, + An' leäve, at night, the vootless groves, + To rest 'ithin our thatchen oves. + An' here our childern still do bruise + The deäisy buds wi' tiny shoes, + As we did meet avore em, free + Vrom ceäre, in play below the tree. + An' there in me'th their lively eyes + Do glissen to the zunny skies, + As aīr do blow, wi' leäzy peäce + To cool, in sheäde, their burnčn feäce. + Where leaves o' spreadčn docks do hide + The zawpit's timber-lwoaded zide, + An' trees do lie, wi' scraggy limbs, + Among the deäisy's crimson rims. + An' they, so proud, wi' eärms a-spread + To keep their balance good, do tread + Wi' ceäreful steps o' tiny zoles + The narrow zides o' trees an' poles. + An' zoo I'll leäve vor your light veet + The peävement o' the zunless street, + While I do end, as I begun, + My days in oben aīr an' zun. + + + + +WHAT JOHN WER A-TELLČN HIS MIS'ESS OUT IN THE CORN GROUND. + + + Ah! mam! you woonce come here the while + The zun, long years agoo, did shed + His het upon the wheat in hile, + Wi' yollow hau'm an' ears o' red, + Wi' little shoes too thin vor walks + Upon the scratchčn stubble-stalks; + You hardly reach'd wi' glossy head, + The vore wheel's top o' dousty red. + How time's a-vled! How years do vlee! + + An' there you went an' zot inzide + A hile, in aīr a-streamčn cool, + As if 'ithin a room, vull wide + An' high, you zot to guide an' rule. + You leäz'd about the stubbly land, + An' soon vill'd up your small left hand + Wi' ruddy ears your right hand vound, + An' traīl'd the stalks along the ground. + How time's a-gone! How years do goo! + + Then in the waggon you did teäke + A ride, an' as the wheels vell down + Vrom ridge to vurrow, they did sheäke + On your small head your poppy crown, + An' now your little maīd, a dear, + Your childhood's very daps, is here, + Zoo let her sta˙, that her young feäce + Mid put a former year in pleäce. + How time do run! How years do roll! + + + + +SHEÄDES. + + + Come here an' zit a while below + Theäse tower, grey and ivy-bound, + In sheäde, the while the zun do glow + So hot upon the flow'ry ground; + An' winds in flight, + Do briskly smite + The blossoms bright, upon the gleäde, + But never stir the sleepčn sheäde. + + As when you stood upon the brink + O' yonder brook, wi' back-zunn'd head, + Your zunny-grounded sheäde did zink + Upon the water's grav'lly bed, + Where weäves could zweep + Away, or keep, + The gravel heap that they'd a-meäde, + But never wash away the sheäde. + + An' zoo, when you can woonce vulvil + What's feäir, a-tried by heaven's light, + Why never fear that evil will + Can meäke a wrong o' your good right. + The right wull stand, + Vor all man's hand, + Till streams on zand, an' wind in gleädes, + Can zweep awa˙ the zuncast sheädes. + + + + +TIMES O' YEAR. + + + Here did swäy the eltrot flow'rs, + When the hours o' night wer vew, + An' the zun, wi' eärly beams + Brighten'd streams, an' dried the dew, + An' the goocoo there did greet + Passers by wi' dousty veet. + + There the milkmaīd hung her brow + By the cow, a-sheenčn red; + An' the dog, wi' upward looks, + Watch'd the rooks above his head, + An' the brook, vrom bow to bow, + Here went swift, an' there wer slow. + + Now the cwolder-blowčn blast, + Here do cast vrom elems' heads + Feäded leaves, a-whirlčn round, + Down to ground, in yollow beds, + Ruslčn under milkers' shoes, + When the day do dry the dews. + + Soon shall grass, a-vrosted bright, + Glisten white instead o' green, + An' the wind shall smite the cows, + Where the boughs be now their screen. + Things do change as years do vlee; + What ha' years in store vor me? + + + + +[Gothic: Eclogue.] + +RACKETČN JOE. + + +_Racketčn Joe; his Sister; his Cousin Fanny; and the Dog._ + + + RACKETČN JOE. + + Heigh! heigh! here. Who's about? + + HIS SISTER. + + Oh! lauk! Here's Joe, a rantčn lout, + + A-meäkčn his wild randy-rout. + + RACKETČN JOE. + + Heigh! Fanny! How d'ye do? (_slaps her._) + + FANNY. + + Oh! fie; why all the woo'se vor you + A-slappčn o' me, black an' blue, + My back! + + HIS SISTER. + + A whack! you loose-eärm'd chap, + To gi'e your cousin sich a slap! + + FANNY. + + I'll pull the heäir o'n, I do vow; + + HIS SISTER. + + I'll pull the ears o'n. There. + + THE DOG. + + Wowh! wow! + + FANNY. + + A-comčn up the drong, + How he did smack his leather thong, + A-zingčn, as he thought, a zong; + + HIS SISTER. + + An' there the pigs did scote + Azide, in fright, wi' squeakčn droat, + Wi' geese a pitchčn up a note. + Look there. + + FANNY. + + His chair! + + HIS SISTER. + + He thump'd en down, + As if he'd het en into ground. + + RACKETČN JOE. + + Heigh! heigh! Look here! the vier is out. + + HIS SISTER. + + How he do knock the tongs about! + + FANNY. + + Now theäre's his whip-nob, plum + Upon the teäble vor a drum; + + HIS SISTER. + + An' there's a dent so big's your thumb. + + RACKETČN JOE. + + My hat's awore so quaer. + + HIS SISTER. + + 'Tis quaer enough, but not wi' wear; + But dabs an' dashes he do bear. + + RACKETČN JOE. + + The zow! + + HIS SISTER. + + What now? + + RACKETČN JOE. + + She's in the plot. + A-routčn up the flower knot. + Ho! Towzer! Here, rout out the zow, + Heigh! here, hie at her. Tiss! + + THE DOG. + + Wowh! wow! + + HIS SISTER. + + How he do rant and roar, + An' stump an' stamp about the vloor, + An' swing, an' slap, an' slam the door! + He don't put down a thing, + But he do dab, an' dash, an' ding + It down, till all the house do ring. + + RACKETČN JOE. + + She's out. + + FANNY. + + Noo doubt. + + HIS SISTER. + + Athirt the bank, + Look! how the dog an' he do pank. + + FANNY. + + Sta˙ out, an' heed her now an' then, + To zee she don't come in ageän. + + + + +ZUMMER AN' WINTER. + + + When I led by zummer streams + The pride o' Lea, as naīghbours thought her, + While the zun, wi' evenčn beams, + Did cast our sheädes athirt the water; + Winds a-blowčn, + Streams a-flowčn, + Skies a-glowčn, + Tokens ov my ja˙ zoo fleetčn, + Heighten'd it, that happy meetčn. + + Then, when maīd an' man took pleäces, + Ga˙ in winter's Chris'mas dances, + Showčn in their merry feäces + Kindly smiles an' glisnčn glances; + Stars a-winkčn, + Day a-shrinkčn, + Sheädes a-zinkčn, + Brought anew the happy meetčn, + That did meake the night too fleetčn. + + + + +TO ME. + + + At night, as drough the meäd I took my wa˙, + In aīr a-sweeten'd by the new-meäde ha˙, + A stream a-vallčn down a rock did sound, + Though out o' zight wer foam an' stwone to me. + + Behind the knap, above the gloomy copse, + The wind did russle in the trees' high tops, + Though evenčn darkness, an' the risčn hill, + Kept all the quiv'rčn leaves unshown to me, + + Within the copse, below the zunless sky, + I heärd a nightčngeäle, a-warblčn high + Her lwoansome zong, a-hidden vrom my zight, + An' showčn nothčn but her mwoan to me. + + An' by a house, where rwoses hung avore + The thatch-brow'd window, an' the oben door, + I heärd the merry words, an' hearty laugh + O' zome feäir maid, as eet unknown to me. + + High over head the white-rimm'd clouds went on, + Wi' woone a-comčn up, vor woone a-gone; + An' feäir they floated in their sky-back'd flight, + But still they never meäde a sound to me. + + An' there the miller, down the stream did float + Wi' all his childern, in his white-saīl'd bwoat, + Vur off, beyond the stragglčn cows in meäd, + But zent noo vaīce, athirt the ground, to me. + + An' then a buttervlee, in zultry light, + A-wheelčn on about me, vier-bright, + Did show the ga˙est colors to my eye, + But still did bring noo vaīce around to me. + + I met the merry laugher on the down, + Bezide her mother, on the path to town, + An' oh! her sheäpe wer comely to the zight, + But wordless then wer she a-vound to me. + + Zoo, sweet ov unzeen things mid be sound, + An' feäir to zight mid soundless things be vound, + But I've the laugh to hear, an' feäce to zee, + Vor they be now my own, a-bound to me. + + + + +TWO AN' TWO. + + + The zun, O Jessie, while his feäce do rise + In vi'ry skies, a-sheddčn out his light + On yollow corn a-weävčn down below + His yollow glow, is ga˙ avore the zight. + By two an' two, + How goodly things do goo, + A-matchčn woone another to fulvill + The goodness ov their Meäkčr's will. + + How bright the spreadčn water in the lew + Do catch the blue, a-sheenčn vrom the sky; + How true the grass do teäke the dewy bead + That it do need, while dousty roads be dry. + By peäir an' peäir + Each thing's a-meäde to sheäre + The good another can bestow, + In wisdom's work down here below. + + The lowest lim's o' trees do seldom grow + A-spread too low to gi'e the cows a sheäde; + The aīr's to bear the bird, the bird's to rise; + Vor light the eyes, vor eyes the light's a-meäde. + 'Tis gi'e an' teäke, + An' woone vor others' seäke; + In peäirs a-workčn out their ends, + Though men be foes that should be friends. + + + + +THE LEW O' THE RICK. + + + At eventide the wind wer loud + By trees an' tuns above woone's head, + An' all the sky wer woone dark cloud, + Vor all it had noo raīn to shed; + An' as the darkness gather'd thick, + I zot me down below a rick, + Where straws upon the win' did ride + Wi' giddy flights, along my zide, + Though unmolestčn me a-restčn, + Where I la˙ 'ithin the lew. + + My wife's bright vier indoors did cast + Its fleäme upon the window peänes + That screen'd her teäble, while the blast + Vled on in music down the leänes; + An' as I zot in vaīceless thought + Ov other zummer-tides, that brought + The sheenčn grass below the lark, + Or left their ricks a-wearčn dark, + My childern voun' me, an' come roun' me, + Where I lay 'ithin the lew. + + The rick that then did keep me lew + Would be a-gone another Fall, + An' I, in zome years, in a vew, + Mid leäve the childern, big or small; + But He that meäde the wind, an' meäde + The lewth, an' zent wi' het the sheäde, + Can keep my childern, all alwone + O' under me, an' though vull grown + Or little lispers, wi' their whispers, + There a-lyčn in the lew. + + + + +THE WIND IN WOONE'S FEÄCE. + + + There lovely Jenny past, + While the blast did blow + On over Ashknowle Hill + To the mill below; + A-blinkčn quick, wi' lashes long, + Above her cheäks o' red, + Ageän the wind, a-beätčn strong, + Upon her droopčn head. + + Oh! let dry win' blow bleäk, + On her cheäk so heäle, + But let noo raīn-shot chill + Meäke her ill an' peäle; + Vor healthy is the breath the blast + Upon the hill do yield, + An' healthy is the light a cast + Vrom lofty sky to vield. + + An' mid noo sorrow-pang + Ever hang a tear + Upon the dark lash-heäir + Ov my feäirest dear; + An' mid noo unkind deed o' mine + Spweil what my love mid gaīn, + Nor meäke my merry Jenny pine + At last wi' dim-ey'd paīn. + + + + +TOKENS. + + + Green mwold on zummer bars do show + That they've a-dripp'd in Winter wet; + The hoof-worn ring o' groun' below + The tree, do tell o' storms or het; + The trees in rank along a ledge + Do show where woonce did bloom a hedge; + An' where the vurrow-marks do stripe + The down, the wheat woonce rustled ripe. + Each mark ov things a-gone vrom view-- + To eyezight's woone, to soulzight two. + + The grass ageän the mwoldrčn door + 'S a tķken sad o' vo'k a-gone, + An' where the house, bwoth wall an' vloor, + 'S a-lost, the well mid linger on. + What tokens, then, could Meäry gi'e + Thät she'd a-liv'd, an' liv'd vor me, + But things a-done vor thought an' view? + Good things that nwone ageän can do, + An' every work her love ha' wrought, + To eyezight's woone, but two to thought. + + + + +TWEIL. + + + The rick ov our last zummer's haulčn + Now vrom grey's a-feäded dark, + An' off the barken raīl's a-vallčn, + Day by day, the rottčn bark.-- + But short's the time our works do stand, + So feäir's we put em out ov hand, + Vor time a-passčn, wet an' dry, + Do spweīl em wi' his changčn sky, + The while wi' strivčn hope, we men, + Though a-ručn time's undočn, + Still do tweil an' tweil ageän. + + In wall-zide sheädes, by leafy bowers, + Underneath the swayčn tree, + O' leäte, as round the bloomčn flowers, + Lowly humm'd the giddy bee, + My childern's small left voot did smite + Their tiny speäde, the while the right + Did trample on a deäisy head, + Bezīde the flower's dousty bed, + An' though their work wer idle then, + They a-smilčn, an' a-tweilčn, + Still did work an' work ageän. + + Now their little limbs be stronger, + Deeper now their vaīce do sound; + An' their little veet be longer, + An' do tread on other ground; + An' rust is on the little bleädes + Ov all the broken-hafted speädes, + An' flow'rs that wer my hope an' pride + Ha' long agoo a-bloom'd an' died, + But still as I did leäbor then + Vor love ov all them childern small, + Zoo now I'll tweil an' tweil ageän. + + When the smokeless tun's a-growčn + Cwold as dew below the stars, + An' when the vier noo mwore's a-glowčn + Red between the window bars, + We then do lay our weary heads + In peace upon their nightly beds, + An' gi'e woone sock, wi' heavčn breast, + An' then breathe soft the breath o' rest, + Till day do call the sons o' men + Vrom night-sleep's blackness, vull o' sprackness, + Out abroad to tweil ageän. + + Where the vaīce o' the winds is mildest, + In the plaīn, their stroke is keen; + Where their dreatnčn vaīce is wildest, + In the grove, the grove's our screen. + An' where the worold in their strife + Do dreatčn mwost our tweilsome life, + Why there Almighty ceäre mid cast + A better screen ageän the blast. + Zoo I woon't live in fear o' men, + But, man-neglected, God-directed, + Still wull tweil an' tweil ageän. + + + + +FANCY. + + + In stillness we ha' words to hear, + An' sheäpes to zee in darkest night, + An' tongues a-lost can haīl us near, + An' souls a-gone can smile in zight; + When Fancy now do wander back + To years a-spent, an' bring to mind + Zome happy tide a-left behind + In' weästčn life's slow-beatčn track. + + When feädčn leaves do drip wi' raīn, + Our thoughts can ramble in the dry; + When Winter win' do zweep the plaīn + We still can have a zunny sky. + Vor though our limbs be winter-wrung, + We still can zee, wi' Fancy's eyes, + The brightest looks ov e'th an' skies, + That we did know when we wer young. + + In paīn our thoughts can pass to eäse, + In work our souls can be at pla˙, + An' leäve behind the chilly leäse + Vor warm-aīr'd meäds o' new mow'd ha˙. + When we do vlee in Fancy's flight + Vrom daily ills avore our feäce, + An' linger in zome happy pleäce + Ov mč'th an' smiles, an' warmth an' light. + + + + +THE BROKEN HEART. + + + News o' grief had overteäken + Dark-ey'd Fanny, now vorseäken; + There she zot, wi' breast a-heavčn, + While vrom zide to zide, wi' grievčn, + Vell her head, wi' tears a-creepčn + Down her cheäks, in bitter weepčn. + There wer still the ribbon-bow + She tied avore her hour ov woe, + An' there wer still the han's that tied it + Hangčn white, + Or wringčn tight, + In ceäre that drown'd all ceäre bezide it. + + When a man, wi' heartless slightčn, + Mid become a maīden's blightčn, + He mid ceärlessly vorseäke her, + But must answer to her Meäker; + He mid slight, wi' selfish blindness, + All her deeds o' lovčn-kindness, + God wull waīgh em wi' the slightčn + That mid be her love's requitčn; + He do look on each deceiver, + He do know + What weight o' woe + Do breäk the heart ov ev'ry griever. + + + + +EVENČN LIGHT. + + + The while I took my bit o' rest, + Below my house's eastern sheäde, + The things that stood in vield an' gleäde + Wer bright in zunsheen vrom the west. + There bright wer east-ward mound an' wall, + An' bright wer trees, arisčn tall, + An' bright did break 'ithin the brook, + Down rocks, the watervall. + + There deep 'ithin my pworches bow + Did hang my heavy woaken door, + An' in beyond en, on the vloor, + The evenčn dusk did gather slow; + But bright did gleäre the twinklčn spwokes + O' runnčn carriage wheels, as vo'ks + Out east did ride along the road, + Bezide the low-bough'd woaks, + + An' I'd a-lost the zun vrom view, + Until ageän his feäce mid rise, + A-sheenčn vrom the eastern skies + To brighten up the rwose-borne dew; + But still his lingrčn light did gi'e + My heart a touchčn ja˙, to zee + His beams a-shed, wi' stratchčn sheäde, + On east-ward wall an' tree. + + When ja˙, a-zent me vrom above, + Vrom my sad heart is now agone, + An' others be a-walkčn on, + Amid the light ov Heavčn's love, + Oh! then vor lovčn-kindness seäke, + Mid I rejäice that zome do teäke + My hopes a-gone, until ageän + My happy dawn do breäk. + + + + +VIELDS BY WATERVALLS. + + + When our downcast looks be smileless, + Under others' wrongs an' slightčns, + When our daily deeds be guileless, + An' do meet unkind requitčns, + You can meäke us zome amends + Vor wrongs o' foes, an' slights o' friends;-- + O flow'ry-gleäded, timber-sheäded + Vields by flowčn watervalls! + + Here be softest aīrs a-blowčn + Drough the boughs, wi' zingčn drushes, + Up above the streams, a-flowčn + Under willows, on by rushes. + Here below the bright-zunn'd sky + The dew-bespangled flow'rs do dry, + In woody-zided, stream-divided + Vields by flowčn watervalls. + + Waters, wi' their giddy rollčns; + Breezes wi' their pla˙some woočns; + Here do heal, in soft consolčns, + Hearts a-wrung wi' man's wrong dočns. + Day do come to us as ga˙ + As to a king ov widest swa˙, + In deäisy-whitčn'd, gil'cup-brightčn'd + Vields by flowčn watervalls. + + Zome feäir buds mid outlive blightčns, + Zome sweet hopes mid outlive sorrow. + After days of wrongs an' slightčns + There mid break a happy morrow. + We mid have noo e'thly love; + But God's love-tokens vrom above + Here mid meet us, here mid greet us, + In the vields by watervalls. + + + + +THE WHEEL ROUTS. + + + 'Tis true I brought noo fortune hwome + Wi' Jenny, vor her honey-moon, + But still a goodish hansel come + Behind her perty soon, + Vor stick, an' dish, an' spoon, all vell + To Jeäne, vrom Aunt o' Camwy dell. + + Zoo all the lot o' stuff a-tied + Upon the plow, a tidy tod, + On gravel-crunchčn wheels did ride, + Wi' ho'ses, iron-shod, + That, as their heads did nod, my whip + Did guide along wi' lightsome flip. + + An' there it rod 'ithin the rwope, + Astraīn'd athirt, an' straīn'd along, + Down Thornhay's evenčn-lighted slope + An' up the beech-tree drong; + Where wheels a-bound so strong, cut out + On either zide a deep-zunk rout. + + An' when at Fall the trees wer brown, + Above the bennet-bearčn land, + When beech-leaves slowly whiver'd down. + By evenčn winds a-fann'd; + The routs wer each a band o' red, + A-vill'd by drifted beech-leaves dead. + + An' when, in Winter's leafless light, + The keener eastern wind did blow. + An' scatter down, avore my zight, + A chilly cwoat o' snow; + The routs ageän did show vull bright, + In two long streaks o' glitt'rčn white. + + But when, upon our weddčn night, + The cart's light wheels, a-rollčn round, + Brought Jenny hwome, they run too light + To mark the yieldčn ground; + Or welcome would be vound a peäir + O' green-vill'd routs a-runnčn there. + + Zoo let me never bring 'ithin + My dwellčn what's a-won by wrong, + An' can't come in 'ithout a sin; + Vor only zee how long + The waggon marks in drong, did show + Wī' leaves, wi' grass, wi' groun' wi' snow. + + + + +NANNY'S NEW ABODE. + + + Now day by day, at lofty height, + O zummer noons, the burnčn zun + 'Ve a-show'd avore our eastward zight, + The sky-blue zide ov Hameldon, + An' shone ageän, on new-mow'd ground, + Wi' ha˙ a-piled up grey in pook, + An' down on leäzes, bennet-brown'd, + An' wheat a-vell avore the hook; + Till, under elems tall, + The leaves do lie on leänčn lands, + In leäter light o' Fall. + + An' last year, we did zee the red + O' dawn vrom Ash-knap's thatchen oves, + An' walk on crumpled leaves a-laid + In grassy rook-trees' timber'd groves, + Now, here, the cooler days do shrink + To vewer hours o' zunny sky, + While zedge, a-weävčn by the brink + O' shallow brooks, do slowly die. + An' on the timber tall, + The boughs, half beäre, do bend above + The bulgčn banks in Fall. + + There, we'd a spring o' water near, + Here, water's deep in wink-draīn'd wells, + The church 'tis true, is nigh out here, + Too nigh wi' vive loud-boomčn bells. + There, naīghbours wer vull wide a-spread, + But vo'k be here too clwose a-stow'd. + Vor childern now do stun woone's head, + Wi' naīsy pla˙ bezide the road, + Where big so well as small, + The little lad, an' lump'rčn lout, + Do leäp an' laugh theäse Fall. + + + + +LEAVES A-VALLČN. + + + There the ash-tree leaves do vall + In the wind a-blowčn cwolder, + An' my childern, tall or small, + Since last Fall be woone year wolder. + Woone year wolder, woone year dearer, + Till when they do leave my he'th, + I shall be noo mwore a hearer + O' their vaīces or their me'th. + + There dead ash leaves be a-toss'd + In the wind, a-blowčn stronger, + An' our life-time, since we lost + Souls we lov'd, is woone year longer. + Woone year longer, woone year wider, + Vrom the friends that death ha' took, + As the hours do teäke the rider + Vrom the hand that last he shook. + + No. If he do ride at night + Vrom the zide the zun went under, + Woone hour vrom his western light + Needen meäke woone hour asunder; + Woone hour onward, woone hour nigher + To the hopeful eastern skies, + Where his mornčn rim o' vier + Soon ageän shall meet his eyes. + + Leaves be now a-scatter'd round + In the wind, a-blowčn bleaker, + An' if we do walk the ground + Wi' our life-strangth woone year weaker. + Woone year weaker, woone year nigher + To the pleäce where we shall vind + Woone that's deathless vor the dier, + Voremost they that dropp'd behind. + + + + +LIZZIE. + + + O Lizzie is so mild o' mind, + Vor ever kind, an' ever true; + A-smilčn, while her lids do rise + To show her eyes as bright as dew. + An' comely do she look at night, + A-dancčn in her skirt o' white, + An' blushčn wi' a rwose o' red + Bezide her glossy head. + + Feäir is the rwose o' blushčn hue, + Behung wi' dew, in mornčn's hour, + Feäir is the rwose, so sweet below + The noontide glow, bezide the bow'r. + Vull feäir, an' eet I'd rather zee + The rwose a-gather'd off the tree, + An' bloomčn still with blossom red, + By Lizzie's glossy head. + + Mid peace droughout her e'thly day, + Betide her way, to happy rest, + An' mid she, all her weančn life, + Or maīd or wife, be loved and blest. + Though I mid never zing anew + To neäme the maīd so feäir an' true, + A-blushčn, wi' a rwose o' red, + Bezide her glossy head. + + + + +BLESSENS A-LEFT. + + + Lik' souls a-toss'd at sea I bore + Sad strokes o' trial, shock by shock, + An' now, lik' souls a-cast ashore + To rest upon the beäten rock, + I still do seem to hear the sound + O' weäves that drove me vrom my track, + An' zee my strugglčn hopes a-drown'd, + An' all my ja˙s a-floated back. + By storms a-toss'd, I'll gi'e God praīse, + Wi' much a-lost I still ha' ja˙s. + My peace is rest, my faīth is hope, + An' freedom's my unbounded scope. + + Vor faīth mid blunt the sting o' fear, + An' peace the pangs ov ills a-vound, + An' freedom vlee vrom evils near, + Wi' wings to vwold on other ground, + Wi' much a-lost, my loss is small, + Vor though ov e'thly goods bereft, + A thousand times well worth em all + Be they good blessčns now a-left. + What e'th do own, to e'th mid vall, + But what's my own my own I'll call, + My faīth, an' peäce, the gifts o' greäce, + An' freedom still to shift my pleäce. + + When I've a-had a tree to screen + My meal-rest vrom the high zunn'd-sky, + Or ivy-holdčn wall between + My head an' win's a-rustlčn by, + I had noo call vor han's to bring + Their seäv'ry daīnties at my nod, + But stoop'd a-drinkčn vrom the spring, + An' took my meal, wi' thanks to God, + Wi' faīth to keep me free o' dread, + An' peäce to sleep wi' steadvast head, + An' freedom's hands, an' veet unbound + To woone man's work, or woone seäme ground. + + + + +FALL TIME. + + + The gather'd clouds, a-hangčn low, + Do meäke the woody ridge look dim; + An' raīn-vill'd streams do brisker flow, + Arisčn higher to their brim. + In the tree, vrom lim' to lim', + Leaves do drop + Vrom the top, all slowly down, + Yollow, to the gloomy groun'. + + The rick's a-tipp'd an' weather-brown'd, + An' thatch'd wi' zedge a-dried an' dead; + An' orcha'd apples, red half round, + Have all a-happer'd down, a-shed + Underneath the trees' wide head. + Ladders long, + Rong by rong, to clim' the tall + Trees, be hung upon the wall. + + The crumpled leaves be now a-shed + In mornčn winds a-blowčn keen; + When they wer green the moss wer dead, + Now they be dead the moss is green. + Low the evenčn zun do sheen + By the boughs, + Where the cows do swing their taīls + Over the merry milkers' paīls. + + + + +FALL. + + + Now the yollow zun, a-runnčn + Daily round a smaller bow, + Still wi' cloudless sky's a-zunnčn + All the sheenčn land below. + Vewer blossoms now do blow, + But the fruit's a-showčn + Reds an' blues, an' purple hues, + By the leaves a-glowčn. + + Now the childern be a-pryčn + Roun' the berried bremble-bow, + Zome a-laughčn, woone a-cryčn + Vor the slent her frock do show. + Bwoys be out a-pullčn low + Slooe-boughs, or a-runnčn + Where, on zides of hazzle-wrides, + Nuts do hang a-zunnčn. + + Where do reach roun' wheat-ricks yollow + Oves o' thatch, in long-drawn ring, + There, by stubbly hump an' hollow, + Russet-dappled dogs do spring. + Soon my apple-trees wull fling + Bloomčn balls below em, + That shall hide, on ev'ry zide + Ground where we do drow em. + + + + +THE ZILVER-WEED. + + + The zilver-weed upon the green, + Out where my sons an' daughters play'd, + Had never time to bloom between + The litty steps o' bwoy an' maīd. + But rwose-trees down along the wall, + That then wer all the maīden's ceäre, + An' all a-trimm'd an' traīn'd, did bear + Their bloomčn buds vrom Spring to Fall. + + But now the zilver leaves do show + To zummer day their goolden crown, + Wi' noo swift shoe-zoles' litty blow, + In merry pla˙ to beät em down. + An' where vor years zome busy hand + Did traīn the rwoses wide an' high; + Now woone by woone the trees do die, + An' vew of all the row do stand. + + + + +THE WIDOW'S HOUSE. + + + 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-swayčn 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 vinger 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 sleept 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 aīr is a-warm'd by the zun, + Aye, the win' by the day's vi'ry wheel. + + + + +THE CHILD'S GREÄVE. + + + Avore the time when zuns went down + On zummer's green a-turn'd to brown, + When sheädes o' swa˙čn wheat-eärs vell + Upon the scarlet pimpernel; + The while you still mid goo, an' vind + 'Ithin the geärden's mossy wall, + Sweet blossoms, low or risčn tall, + To meäke a tutty to your mind, + In churchyard heav'd, wi' grassy breast, + The greäve-mound ov a beäby's rest. + + An' when a high day broke, to call + A throng 'ithin the churchyard wall, + The mother brought, wi' thoughtvul mind, + The feäirest buds her eyes could vind, + To trim the little greäve, an' show + To other souls her love an' loss, + An' meäde a Seävior's little cross + O' brightest flow'rs that then did blow, + A-droppčn tears a-sheenčn bright, + Among the dew, in mornčn light + + An' woone sweet bud her han' did pleäce + Up where did droop the Seävior's feäce; + An' two she zet a-bloomčn bright, + Where reach'd His hands o' left an' right; + Two mwore feäir blossoms, crimson dyed, + Did mark the pleäces ov his veet, + An' woone did lie, a-smellčn sweet, + Up where the spear did wound the zide + Ov Him that is the life ov all + Greäve sleepers, whether big or small. + + The mother that in faīth could zee + The Seävior on the high cross tree + Mid be a-vound a-grievčn sore, + But not to grieve vor evermwore, + Vor He shall show her faīthvul mind, + His chaīce is all that she should choose, + An' love that here do grieve to lose, + Shall be, above, a ja˙ to vind, + Wi' Him that evermwore shall keep + The souls that He do lay asleep. + + + + +WENT VROM HWOME. + + + The stream-be-wander'd dell did spread + Vrom height to woody height, + An' meäds did lie, a grassy bed, + Vor elem-sheädčn light. + The milkmaīd by her white-horn'd cow, + Wi' paīl so white as snow, + Did zing below the elem bough + A-swa˙čn to an' fro. + + An' there the evenčn's low-shot light + Did smite the high tree-tops, + An' rabbits vrom the grass, in fright, + Did leäp 'ithin the copse. + An' there the shepherd wi' his crook. + An' dog bezide his knee, + Went whisslčn by, in aīr that shook + The ivy on the tree. + + An' on the hill, ahead, wer bars + A-showčn dark on high, + Avore, as eet, the evenčn stars + Did twinkle in the sky, + An' then the last sweet evenčn-tide + That my long sheäde vell there, + I went down Brindon's thymy zide, + To my last sleep at Ware. + + + + +THE FANCY FEÄIR AT MAĪDEN NEWTON. + + + The Frome, wi' ever-water'd brink, + Do run where shelvčn hills do zink + Wi' housen all a-cluster'd roun' + The parish tow'rs below the down. + An' now, vor woonce, at leäst, ov all + The pleäcen where the stream do vall, + There's woone that zome to-day mid vind, + Wi' things a-suited to their mind. + An' that's out where the Fancy Feäir + Is on at Maīden Newton. + + An' vo'k, a-smarten'd up, wull hop + Out here, as ev'ry traīn do stop, + Vrom up the line, a longish ride, + An' down along the river-zide. + An' zome do beät, wi' heels an' tooes, + The leänes an' paths, in nimble shoes, + An' bring, bezides, a biggish knot, + Ov all their childern that can trot, + A-vlockčn where the Fancy Feäir + Is here at Maīden Newton. + + If you should goo, to-day, avore + A _Chilfrome_ house or _Downfrome_ door, + Or _Frampton's_ park-zide row, or look + Drough quiet _Wraxall's_ slopy nook, + Or elbow-streeted _Catt'stock_, down + By _Castlehill's_ cwold-winded crown, + An' zee if vo'k be all at hwome, + You'd vind em out--they be a-come + Out hither, where the Fancy Feäir + Is on at Maīden Newton. + + Come, young men, come, an' here you'll vind + A gift to please a maīden's mind; + Come, husbands, here be gifts to please + Your wives, an' meäke em smile vor days; + Come, so's, an' buy at Fancy Feäir + A keepseäke vor your friends elsewhere; + You can't but stop an' spend a cwein + Wi' leädies that ha' goods so fine; + An' all to meake, vor childern's seäke, + The School at Maīden Newton. + + + + +THINGS DO COME ROUND. + + + Above the leafless hazzle-wride + The wind-drove raīn did quickly vall, + An' on the meäple's ribby zide + Did hang the raīn-drops quiv'rčn ball; + Out where the brook o' foamy yollow + Roll'd along the meäd's deep hollow, + An' noo birds wer out to beät, + Wi' flappčn wings, the vlečn wet + O' zunless clouds on flow'rless ground. + How time do bring the seasons round! + + The moss, a-beät vrom trees, did lie + Upon the ground in ashen droves, + An' western wind did huffle high, + Above the sheds' quick-drippčn oves. + An' where the ruslčn straw did sound + So dry, a-shelter'd in the lew, + I staīed alwone, an' weather-bound, + An' thought on times, long years agoo, + Wi' water-floods on flow'rless ground. + How time do bring the seasons round! + + We then, in childhood pla˙, did seem + In work o' men to teäke a peärt, + A-drevčn on our wild bwoy team, + Or lwoadčn o' the tiny cart. + Or, on our little refters, spread + The zedgen ruf above our head, + But coulden tell, as now we can, + Where each would goo to tweil a man. + O ja˙s a-lost, an' ja˙s a-vound, + How Providence do bring things round! + + Where woonce along the sky o' blue + The zun went roun' his longsome bow, + An' brighten'd, to my soul, the view + About our little farm below. + There I did pla˙ the merry geäme, + Wi' childern ev'ry holitide, + But coulden tell the vaīce or neäme + That time would vind to be my bride. + O hwome a-left, O wife a-vound, + How Providence do bring things round! + + An' when I took my manhood's pleäce, + A husband to a wife's true vow, + I never thought by neäme or feäce + O' childern that be round me now. + An' now they all do grow vrom small, + Drough life's feäir sheäpes to big an' tall, + I still be blind to God's good plan, + To pleäce em out as wife, or man. + O thread o' love by God unwound, + How He in time do bring things round; + + + + +ZUMMER THOUGHTS IN WINTER TIME. + + + Well, aye, last evenčn, as I shook + My locks ov ha˙ by Leecombe brook. + The yollow zun did weakly glance + Upon the winter meäd askance, + A-castčn out my narrow sheäde + Athirt the brook, an' on the meäd. + The while ageän my lwonesome ears + Did russle weatherbeäten spears, + Below the withy's leafless head + That overhung the river's bed; + I there did think o' days that dried + The new-mow'd grass o' zummer-tide, + When white-sleev'd mowers' whetted bleädes + Rung sh'ill along the green-bough'd gleädes, + An' maīdens ga˙, wi' pla˙some chaps, + A-zot wi' dinners in their laps, + Did talk wi' merry words that rung + Around the ring, vrom tongue to tongue; + An' welcome, when the leaves ha' died, + Be zummer thoughts in winter-tide. + + + + +I'M OUT O' DOOR. + + + I'm out, when, in the Winter's blast, + The zun, a-runnčn lowly round, + Do mark the sheädes the hedge do cast + At noon, in hoarvrost, on the ground, + I'm out when snow's a-lyčn white + In keen-aīr'd vields that I do pass, + An' moonbeams, vrom above, do smite + On ice an' sleeper's window-glass. + I'm out o' door, + When win' do zweep, + By hangčn steep, + Or hollow deep, + At Lindenore. + + O welcome is the lewth a-vound + By rustlčn copse, or ivied bank, + Or by the ha˙-rick, weather-brown'd + By barken-grass, a-springčn rank; + Or where the waggon, vrom the team + A-freed, is well a-housed vrom wet, + An' on the dousty cart-house beam + Do hang the cobweb's white-lin'd net. + While storms do roar, + An' win' do zweep, + By hangčn steep, + Or hollow deep, + At Lindenore. + + An' when a good day's work's a-done + An' I do rest, the while a squall + Do rumble in the hollow tun, + An' ivy-stems do whip the wall. + Then in the house do sound about + My ears, dear vaīces vull or thin, + A pra˙čn vor the souls vur out + At sea, an' cry wi' bibb'rčn chin-- + Oh! shut the door. + What soul can sleep, + Upon the deep, + When storms do zweep + At Lindenore. + + + + +GRIEF AN' GLADNESS. + + + "Can all be still, when win's do blow? + Look down the grove an' zee + The boughs a-swingčn on the tree, + An' beäten weäves below. + Zee how the tweilčn vo'k do bend + Upon their windward track, + Wi' ev'ry string, an' garment's end, + A-flutt'rčn at their back." + I cried, wi' sorrow sore a-tried, + An' hung, wi' Jenny at my zide, + My head upon my breast. + Wi' strokes o' grief so hard to bear, + 'Tis hard vor souls to rest. + + Can all be dull, when zuns do glow? + Oh! no; look down the grove, + Where zides o' trees be bright above; + An' weäves do sheen below; + An' neäked stems o' wood in hedge + Do gleäm in streäks o' light, + An' rocks do gleäre upon the ledge + O' yonder zunny height, + "No, Jeäne, wi' trials now withdrawn, + Lik' darkness at a happy dawn." + I cried, "Noo mwore despair; + Wi' our lost peace ageän a-vound, + 'Tis wrong to harbour ceäre." + + + + +SLIDČN. + + + When wind wer keen, + Where ivy-green + Did clwosely wind + Roun' woak-tree rind, + An' ice shone bright, + An' meäds wer white, wi' thin-spread snow + Then on the pond, a-spreadčn wide, + We bwoys did zweep along the slide, + A-strikčn on in merry row. + + There rudd˙-feäced, + In busy heäste, + We all did wag + A spankčn lag, + To win good speed, + When we, straīght-knee'd, wi' foreright tooes, + Should shoot along the slipp'ry track, + Wi' grindčn sound, a-gettčn slack, + The slower went our clumpčn shoes. + + Vor zome slow chap, + Did teäke mishap, + As he did veel + His hinder heel + A-het a thump, + Wi' zome big lump, o' voot an' shoe. + Down vell the voremost wi' a squall, + An' down the next went wi' a sprawl, + An' down went all the laughčn crew. + + As to an' fro, + In merry row, + We all went round + On ice, on ground + The maīdens nigh + A-stannčn shy, did zee us slide, + An' in their eäprons small, did vwold + Their little hands, a-got red-cwold, + Or slide on ice o' two veet wide. + + By leafless copse, + An' beäre tree-tops, + An' zun's low beams, + An' ice-boun' streams, + An' vrost-boun' mill, + A-stannčn still. Come wind, blow on, + An' gi'e the bwoys, this Chris'mas tide, + The glitt'rčn ice to meäke a slide, + As we had our slide, years agone. + + + + +LWONESOMENESS. + + + As I do zew, wi' nimble hand, + In here avore the window's light, + How still do all the housegear stand + Around my lwonesome zight. + How still do all the housegear stand + Since Willie now 've a-left the land. + + The rwose-tree's window-sheädčn bow + Do hang in leaf, an' win'-blow'd flow'rs, + Avore my lwonesome eyes do show + Theäse bright November hours. + Avore my lwonesome eyes do show + Wi' nwone but I to zee em blow. + + The sheädes o' leafy buds, avore + The peänes, do sheäke upon the glass, + An' stir in light upon the vloor, + Where now vew veet do pass, + An' stir in light upon the vloor, + Where there's a-stirrčn nothčn mwore. + + This win' mid dreve upon the maīn, + My brother's ship, a-plowčn foam, + But not bring mother, cwold, nor raīn, + At her now happy hwome. + But not bring mother, cwold, nor raīn, + Where she is out o' pain. + + Zoo now that I'm a-mwopčn dumb, + A-keepčn father's house, do you + Come of'en wi' your work vrom hwome, + Vor company. Now do. + Come of'en wi' your work vrom hwome, + Up here a-while. Do come. + + + + +A SNOWY NIGHT. + + + 'Twer at night, an' a keen win' did blow + Vrom the east under peäle-twinklčn stars, + All a-zweepčn along the white snow; + On the groun', on the trees, on the bars, + Vrom the hedge where the win' russled drough, + There a light-russlčn snow-doust did vall; + An' noo pleäce wer a-vound that wer lew, + But the shed, or the ivy-hung wall. + + Then I knock'd at the wold passage door + Wi' the win'-driven snow on my locks; + Till, a-comčn along the cwold vloor, + There my Jenny soon answer'd my knocks. + Then the wind, by the door a-swung wide, + Flung some snow in her clear-bloomčn feäce, + An' she blink'd wi' her head all a-zide, + An' a-chucklčn, went back to her pleäce. + + An' in there, as we zot roun' the brands, + Though the talkers wer maīnly the men, + Bloomčn Jeäne, wi' her work in her hands, + Did put in a good word now an' then. + An' when I took my leave, though so bleäk + Wer the weather, she went to the door, + Wi' a smile, an' a blush on the cheäk + That the snow had a-smitten avore. + + + + +THE YEAR-CLOCK. + + + We zot bezide the leäfy wall, + Upon the bench at evenfall, + While aunt led off our minds vrom ceäre + Wi' veäiry teäles, I can't tell where: + An' vound us woone among her stock + O' feäbles, o' the girt Year-clock. + His feäce wer blue's the zummer skies, + An' wide's the zight o' lookčn eyes, + For hands, a zun wi' glowčn feäce, + An' peäler moon wi' swifter peäce, + Did wheel by stars o' twinklčn light, + By bright-wall'd day, an' dark-treed night; + An' down upon the high-sky'd land, + A-reachčn wide, on either hand, + Wer hill an' dell wi' win'-swa˙'d trees, + An' lights a-zweepčn over seas, + An' gleamčn cliffs, an' bright-wall'd tow'rs, + Wi' sheädes a-markčn on the hours; + An' as the feäce, a-rollčn round, + Brought comely sheäpes along the ground. + The Spring did come in winsome steäte + Below a glowčn raīnbow geäte; + An' fan wi' aīr a-blowčn weak, + Her glossy heäir, an' rwosy cheäk, + As she did shed vrom oben hand, + The leäpčn zeed on vurrow'd land; + The while the rook, wi' heästy flight, + A-floatčn in the glowčn light, + Did bear avore her glossy breast + A stick to build her lofty nest, + An' strong-limb'd Tweil, wi' steady hands, + Did guide along the vallow lands + The heavy zull, wi' bright-sheär'd beam, + Avore the weäry oxen team, + Wi' Spring a-gone there come behind + Sweet Zummer, ja˙ ov ev'ry mind, + Wi' feäce a-beamčn to beguile + Our weäry souls ov ev'ry tweil. + While birds did warble in the dell + In softest aīr o' sweetest smell; + An' she, so winsome-feäir did vwold + Her comely limbs in green an' goold, + An' wear a rwosy wreath, wi' studs + O' berries green, an' new-born buds, + A-fring'd in colours vier-bright, + Wi' sheäpes o' buttervlees in flight. + When Zummer went, the next ov all + Did come the sheäpe o' brown-feäc'd Fall, + A-smilčn in a comely gown + O' green, a-shot wi' yellow-brown, + A-border'd wi' a goolden stripe + O' fringe, a-meäde o' corn-ears ripe, + An' up ageän her comely zide, + Upon her rounded eärm, did ride + A perty basket, all a-twin'd + O' slender stems wi' leaves an' rind, + A-vill'd wi' fruit the trees did shed, + All ripe, in purple, goold, an' red; + An' busy Leäbor there did come + A-zingčn zongs ov harvest hwome, + An' red-ear'd dogs did briskly run + Roun' cheervul Leisure wi' his gun, + Or stan' an' mark, wi' stedvast zight, + The speckled pa'tridge rise in flight. + An' next ageän to mild-feäc'd Fall + Did come peäle Winter, last ov all, + A-bendčn down, in thoughtvul mood, + Her head 'ithin a snow-white hood + A-deck'd wi' icy-jewels, bright + An' cwold as twinklčn stars o' night; + An' there wer weary Leäbor, slack + O' veet to keep her vrozen track, + A-lookčn off, wi' wistful eyes, + To reefs o' smoke, that there did rise + A-meltčn to the peäle-feäc'd zun, + Above the houses' lofty tun. + An' there the girt Year-clock did goo + By day an' night, vor ever true, + Wi' mighty wheels a-rollčn round + 'Ithout a beät, 'ithout a sound. + + + + +NOT GOO HWOME TO-NIGHT. + + + No, no, why you've noo wife at hwome + Abidčn up till you do come, + Zoo leäve your hat upon the pin, + Vor I'm your waīter. Here's your inn, + Wi' chair to rest, an' bed to roost; + You have but little work to do + This vrosty time at hwome in mill, + Your vrozen wheel's a-stannčn still, + The sleepčn ice woont grind vor you. + No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night, + Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill. + + As I come by, to-day, where stood + Wi' neäked trees, the purple wood, + The scarlet hunter's ho'ses veet + Tore up the sheäkčn ground, wind-fleet, + Wi' reachčn heads, an' pankčn hides; + The while the flat-wing'd rooks in vlock. + Did zwim a-sheenčn at their height; + But your good river, since last night, + Wer all a-vroze so still's a rock. + No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night, + Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill. + + Zee how the hufflčn win' do blow, + A-whirlčn down the giddy snow: + Zee how the sky's a-weärčn dim, + Behind the elem's neäked lim'. + That there do leän above the leäne: + Zoo teäke your pleäce bezide the dogs, + An' sip a drop o' hwome-brew'd eäle, + An' zing your zong or tell your teäle, + While I do baīt the vier wi' logs. + No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night, + Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill. + + Your meäre's in steäble wi' her hocks + In straw above her vetterlocks, + A-reachčn up her meäney neck, + An' pullčn down good hay vrom reck, + A-meäkčn slight o' snow an' sleet; + She don't want you upon her back, + To vall upon the slippery stwones + On Hollyhül, an' break your bwones, + Or miss, in snow, her hidden track. + No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night, + Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill. + + Here, Jenny, come pull out your key + An' hansel, wi' zome tidy tea, + The zilver pot that we do owe + To your prize butter at the show, + An' put zome bread upon the bwoard. + Ah! he do smile; now that 'ull do, + He'll stay. Here, Polly, bring a light, + We'll have a happy hour to-night, + I'm thankvul we be in the lew. + No, no, he woont goo hwome to-night, + Not Robin White, o' Craglin mill. + + + + +THE HUMSTRUM. + + + Why woonce, at Chris'mas-tide, avore + The wold year wer a-reckon'd out, + The humstrums here did come about, + A-soundčn up at ev'ry door. + But now a bow do never screäpe + A humstrum, any where all round, + An' zome can't tell a humstrum's sheäpe, + An' never heärd his jinglčn sound. + As _ing-an-ing_ did ring the string, + As _ang-an-ang_ the wires did clang. + + The strings a-tighten'd lik' to crack + Athirt the canister's tin zide, + Did reach, a glitt'rčn, zide by zide, + Above the humstrum's hollow back. + An' there the bwoy, wi' bended stick, + A-strung wi' heäir, to meäke a bow, + Did dreve his elbow, light'nčn quick, + Athirt the strings from high to low. + As _ing-an-ing_ did ring the string, + As _ang-an-ang_ the wires did clang. + + The mother there did stan' an' hush + Her child, to hear the jinglčn sound, + The merry maīd, a-scrubbčn round + Her white-steäv'd paīl, did stop her brush. + The mis'ess there, vor wold time's seäke, + Had gifts to gi'e, and smiles to show, + An' meäster, too, did stan' an' sheäke + His two broad zides, a-chucklčn low, + While _ing-an-ing_ did ring the string, + While _ang-an-ang_ the wires did clang. + + The pla˙ers' pockets wer a-strout, + Wi' wold brown pence, a-rottlčn in, + Their zwangčn bags did soon begin, + Wi' brocks an' scraps, to plim well out. + The childern all did run an' poke + Their heads vrom hatch or door, an' shout + A-runnčn back to wolder vo'k. + Why, here! the humstrums be about! + As _ing-an-ing_ did ring the string, + As _ang-an-ang_ the wires did clang. + + + + +SHAFTESBURY FEÄIR. + + + When hillborne Paladore did show + So bright to me down miles below. + As woonce the zun, a-rollčn west, + Did brighten up his hill's high breast. + Wi' walls a-lookčn dazzlčn white, + Or yollow, on the grey-topp'd height + Of Paladore, as peäle day wore + Awa˙ so feäir. + Oh! how I wish'd that I wer there. + + The pleäce wer too vur off to spy + The livčn vo'k a-passčn by; + The vo'k too vur vor aīr to bring + The words that they did speak or zing. + All dum' to me wer each abode, + An' empty wer the down-hill road + Vrom Paladore, as peäle day wore + Awa˙ so feäir; + But how I wish'd that I wer there. + + But when I clomb the lofty ground + Where livčn veet an' tongues did sound, + At feäir, bezide your bloomčn feäce, + The pertiest in all the pleäce, + As you did look, wi' eyes as blue + As yonder southern hills in view, + Vrom Paladore--O Polly dear, + Wi' you up there, + How merry then wer I at feäir. + + Since vu'st I trod thik steep hill-zide + My grievčn soul 'v a-been a-tried + Wi' paīn, an' loss o' worldly geär, + An' souls a-gone I wanted near; + But you be here to goo up still, + An' look to Blackmwore vrom the hill + O' Paladore. Zoo, Polly dear, + We'll goo up there, + An' spend an hour or two at feäir. + + The wold brown meäre's a-brought vrom grass, + An' rubb'd an' cwomb'd so bright as glass; + An' now we'll hitch her in, an' start + To feäir upon the new green cart, + An' teäke our little Poll between + Our zides, as proud's a little queen, + To Paladore. Aye, Poll a dear, + Vor now 'tis feäir, + An' she's a longčn to goo there. + + While Paladore, on watch, do straīn + Her eyes to Blackmwore's blue-hill'd pläin, + While Duncliffe is the traveller's mark, + Or cloty Stour's a-rollčn dark; + Or while our bells do call, vor greäce, + The vo'k avore their Seävior's feäce, + Mid Paladore, an' Poll a dear, + Vor ever know + O' peäce an' plenty down below. + + + + +THE BEÄTEN PATH. + + + The beäten path where vo'k do meet + A-comčn on vrom vur an' near; + How many errands had the veet + That wore en out along so clear! + Where eegrass bleädes be green in meäd, + Where bennets up the leäze be brown, + An' where the timber bridge do leäd + Athirt the cloty brook to town, + Along the path by mile an' mile, + Athirt the yield, an' brook, an' stile, + + There runnčn childern's hearty laugh + Do come an' vlee along--win' swift: + The wold man's glossy-knobbčd staff + Do help his veet so hard to lift; + The maīd do bear her basket by, + A-hangčn at her breäthčn zide; + An' ceäreless young men, straīght an' spry, + Do whissle hwome at eventide, + Along the path, a-reachčn by + Below tall trees an' oben sky. + + There woone do goo to ja˙ a-head; + Another's ja˙'s behind his back. + There woone his vu'st long mile do tread, + An' woone the last ov all his track. + An' woone mid end a hopevul road, + Wi' hopeless grief a-teäkčn on, + As he that leätely vrom abroad + Come hwome to seek his love a-gone, + Noo mwore to tread, wi' comely eäse, + The beäten path athirt the leäze. + + In tweilsome hardships, year by year, + He drough the worold wander'd wide, + Still bent, in mind, both vur an' near + To come an' meäke his love his bride. + An' passčn here drough evenčn dew + He heästen'd, happy, to her door, + But vound the wold vo'k only two, + Wi' noo mwore vootsteps on the vloor, + To walk ageän below the skies, + Where beäten paths do vall an' rise; + + Vor she wer gone vrom e'thly eyes + To be a-kept in darksome sleep, + Until the good ageän do rise + A-ja˙ to souls they left to weep. + The rwose wer doust that bound her brow; + The moth did eat her Zunday ceäpe; + Her frock wer out o' fashion now; + Her shoes wer dried up out o' sheäpe-- + The shoes that woonce did glitter black + Along the leäzes beäten track. + + + + +RUTH A-RIDČN. + + + Ov all the roads that ever bridge + Did bear athirt a river's feäce, + Or ho'ses up an' down the ridge + Did wear to doust at ev'ry peäce, + I'll teäke the Stalton leäne to tread, + By banks wi' primrwose-beds bespread, + An' steätely elems over head, + Where Ruth do come a-ridčn. + + An' I would rise when vields be grey + Wi' mornčn dew, avore 'tis dry, + An' beät the doust droughout the day + To bluest hills ov all the sky; + If there, avore the dusk o' night, + The evenčn zun, a-sheenčn bright, + Would pay my leäbors wi' the zight + O' Ruth--o' Ruth a-ridčn. + + Her healthy feäce is rwosy feäir, + She's comely in her gaīt an' lim', + An' sweet's the smile her feäce do wear, + Below her cap's well-rounded brim; + An' while her skirt's a-spreädčn wide, + In vwolds upon the ho'se's zide, + He'll toss his head, an' snort wi' pride, + To trot wi' Ruth a-ridčn. + + An' as her ho'se's rottlčn peäce + Do slacken till his veet do beät + A slower trot, an' till her feäce + Do bloom avore the tollman's geäte; + Oh! he'd be glad to oben wide + His high-back'd geäte, an' stand azide, + A-givčn up his toll wi' pride, + Vor zight o' Ruth a-ridčn. + + An' oh! that Ruth could be my bride, + An' I had ho'ses at my will, + That I mid teäke her by my zide, + A-ridčn over dell an' hill; + I'd zet wi' pride her litty tooe + 'Ithin a stirrup, sheenčn new, + An' leäve all other ja˙s to goo + Along wi' Ruth a-ridčn. + + If maīdens that be weäk an' peäle + A-mwopčn in the house's sheäde, + Would wish to be so blithe and heäle + As you did zee young Ruth a-meäde; + Then, though the zummer zun mid glow, + Or though the Winter win' mid blow, + They'd leäp upon the saddle's bow, + An' goo, lik' Ruth, a-ridčn. + + While evenčn light do sof'ly gild + The moss upon the elem's bark, + Avore the zingčn bird's a-still'd, + Or woods be dim, or day is dark, + Wi' quiv'rčn grass avore his breast, + In cowslip beds, do lie at rest, + The ho'se that now do goo the best + Wi' rwosy Ruth a-ridčn. + + + + +BEAUTY UNDECKED. + + + The grass mid sheen when wat'ry beäds + O' dew do glitter on the meäds, + An' thorns be bright when quiv'rčn studs + O' raīn do hang upon their buds-- + As jewels be a-meäde by art + To zet the plaīnest vo'k off smart. + + But sheäkčn ivy on its tree, + An' low-bough'd laurel at our knee, + Be bright all da˙, without the gleäre, + O' drops that duller leäves mid weär-- + As Jeäne is feäir to look upon + In plaīnest gear that she can don. + + + + +MY LOVE IS GOOD. + + + My love is good, my love is feäir, + She's comely to behold, O, + In ev'rything that she do wear, + Altho' 'tis new or wold, O. + My heart do leäp to see her walk, + So straīght do step her veet, O, + My tongue is dum' to hear her talk, + Her vaīce do sound so sweet, O. + The flow'ry groun' wi' floor o' green + Do bear but vew, so good an' true. + + When she do zit, then she do seem + The feäirest to my zight, O, + Till she do stan' an' I do deem, + She's feäirest at her height, O. + An' she do seem 'ithin a room + The feäirest on a floor, O, + Till I ageän do zee her bloom + Still feäirer out o' door, O. + Where flow'ry groun' wi' floor o' green + Do bear but vew, so good an' true. + + An' when the deäisies be a-press'd + Below her vootsteps waīght, O, + Do seem as if she look'd the best + Ov all in walkčn gaīt, O. + Till I do zee her zit upright + Behind the ho'ses neck, O, + A-holdčn wi' the raīn so tight + His tossčn head in check, O, + Where flow'ry groun' wi' floor o' green + Do bear but vew, so good an' true. + + I wish I had my own free land + To keep a ho'se to ride, O, + I wish I had a ho'se in hand + To ride en at her zide, O. + Vor if I wer as high in rank + As any duke or lord, O, + Or had the goold the richest bank + Can shovel from his horde, O, + I'd love her still, if even then + She wer a leäser in a glen. + + + + +HEEDLESS O' MY LOVE. + + + Oh! I vu'st know'd o' my true love, + As the bright moon up above, + Though her brightness wer my pleasure, + She wer heedless o' my love. + Tho' 'twer all ga˙ to my eyes, + Where her feäir feäce did arise, + She noo mwore thought upon my thoughts, + Than the high moon in the skies. + + Oh! I vu'st heärd her a-zingčn, + As a sweet bird on a tree, + Though her zingčn wer my pleasure, + 'Twer noo zong she zung to me. + Though her sweet vaīce that wer nigh, + Meäde my wild heart to beat high, + She noo mwore thought upon my thoughts, + Than the birds would passers by. + + Oh! I vu'st know'd her a-weepčn, + As a raīn-dimm'd mornčn sky, + Though her teär-draps dimm'd her blushes, + They wer noo draps I could dry. + Ev'ry bright tear that did roll, + Wer a keen paīn to my soul, + But noo heärt's pang she did then veel, + Wer vor my words to console. + + But the wold times be a-vanish'd, + An' my true love is my bride. + An' her kind heart have a-meäde her. + As an angel at my zide; + I've her best smiles that mid pla˙, + I've her me'th when she is ga˙, + When her tear-draps be a-rollčn, + I can now wipe em awa˙. + + + + +THE DO'SET MILITIA. + + + Hurrah! my lads, vor Do'set men! + A-muster'd here in red ageän; + All welcome to your ranks, a-spread + Up zide to zide, to stand, or wheel, + An' welcome to your files, to head + The steady march wi' tooe to heel; + Welcome to marches slow or quick! + Welcome to gath'rčns thin or thick; + God speed the Colonel on the hill,[D] + An' Mrs Bingham,[E] off o' drill. + + When you've a-handled well your lock, + An' flung about your rifle stock + Vrom han' to shoulder, up an' down; + When you've a-lwoaded an' a-vired, + Till you do come back into town, + Wi' all your loppčn limbs a-tired, + An you be dry an' burnčn hot, + Why here's your tea an' coffee pot + At Mister Greenčn's penny till, + Wi' Mrs Bingham off o' drill. + + Last year John Hinley's mother cried, + "Why my bwoy John is quite my pride! + Vor he've a-been so good to-year, + An' han't a-mell'd wi' any squabbles, + An' han't a-drown'd his wits in beer, + An' han't a-been in any hobbles. + I never thought he'd turn out bad, + He always wer so good a lad; + But now I'm sure he's better still, + Drough Mrs Bingham, off o' drill." + + Jeäne Hart, that's Joey Duntley's chaīce, + Do praise en up wi' her sweet vaīce, + Vor he's so strait's a hollyhock + (Vew hollyhocks be up so tall), + An' he do come so true's the clock + To Mrs Bingham's coffee-stall; + An' Jeäne do write, an' brag o' Joe + To teäke the young recruits in tow, + An' try, vor all their good, to bring em, + A-come from drill, to Mrs Bingham. + + God speed the Colonel, toppčn high, + An' officers wi' sworded thigh, + An' all the sargeants that do bawl + All day enough to split their droats, + An' all the corporals, and all + The band a-pla˙čn up their notes, + An' all the men vrom vur an' near + We'll gi'e em all a hearty cheer. + An' then another cheerčn still + Vor Mrs Bingham, off o' drill. + +[Footnote D: Poundbury, Dorchester, the drill ground.] + +[Footnote E: The colonel's wife, who opened a room with a +coffee-stall, and entertainments for the men off drill.] + + + + +A DO'SET SALE. + +WITH A MISTAKE. + +(_Thomas and Mr Auctioneer._) + + + _T._ Well here, then, Mister auctioneer, + Be theäse the virs, I bought, out here? + + _A._ The firs, the fir-poles, you bought? Who? + 'Twas _furze_, not _firs_, I sold to you. + + _T._ I bid vor _virs_, and not vor _vuzzen_, + Vor vir-poles, as I thought, two dozen. + + _A._ Two dozen faggots, and I took + Your bidding for them. Here's the book. + + _T._ I wont have what I diddčn buy. + I don't want _vuzzen_, now. Not I. + Why _firs_ an' _furze_ do sound the seäme. + Why don't ye gi'e a thing his neäme? + Aye, _firs_ and _furze_! Why, who can tell + Which 'tis that you do meän to zell? + No, no, be kind enough to call + Em _virs_, and _vuzzen_, then, that's all. + + + + +DON'T CEÄRE. + + + At the feäst, I do mind very well, all the vo'ks + Wer a-took in a happerčn storm, + But we chaps took the maīdens, an' kept em wi' clokes + Under shelter, all dry an' all warm; + An' to my lot vell Jeäne, that's my bride, + That did titter, a-hung at my zide; + Zaid her aunt, "Why the vo'k 'ull talk finely o' you," + An', cried she, "I don't ceäre if they do." + When the time o' the feäst wer ageän a-come round, + An' the vo'k wer a-gather'd woonce mwore, + Why she guess'd if she went there, she'd soon be a-vound + An' a-took seäfely hwome to her door. + Zaid her mother, "'Tis sure to be wet." + Zaid her cousin, "'T'ull raīn by zunzet." + Zaid her aunt, "Why the clouds there do look black an' blue," + An' zaid she, "I don't ceäre if they do." + + An' at last, when she own'd I mid meäke her my bride, + Vor to help me, an' sheäre all my lot, + An' wi' faīthvulness keep all her life at my zide, + Though my wa˙ mid be happy or not. + Zaid her naīghbours, "Why wedlock's a clog, + An' a wife's a-tied up lik' a dog." + Zaid her aunt, "You'll vind trials enough vor to rue," + An', zaid she, "I don't ceäre if I do." + + * * * * * + + Now she's married, an' still in the midst ov her tweils + She's as happy's the daylight is long, + She do goo out abroad wi' her feäce vull o' smiles, + An' do work in the house wi' a zong. + An', zays woone, "She don't grieve, you can tell." + Zays another, "Why, don't she look well!" + Zays her aunt, "Why the young vo'k do envy you two," + An', zays she, "I don't ceäre if they do." + + Now vor me I can zing in my business abrode, + Though the storm do beät down on my poll, + There's a wife-brighten'd vier at the end o' my road, + An' her love vor the ja˙ o' my soul. + Out o' door I wi' rogues mid be tried: + Out o' door be brow-beäten wi' pride; + Men mid scowl out o' door, if my wife is but true-- + Let em scowl, "I don't ceäre if they do." + + + + +CHANGES. + + + By time's a-brought the mornčn light, + By time the light do weäne; + By time's a-brought the young man's might, + By time his might do weäne; + The Winter snow do whitčn grass, + The zummer flow'rs do brightčn grass, + Vor zome things we do lose wi' paīn, + We've mwore that mid be ja˙ to gaīn, + An' my dear life do seem the seäme + While at my zide + There still do bide + Your welcome feäce an' hwomely neäme. + + Wī' ev'ry day that woonce come on + I had to choose a ja˙, + Wi' many that be since a-gone + I had to lose a ja˙. + Drough longsome years a-wanderčn, + Drough lwonesome rest a-ponderčn, + Woone peaceful daytime wer a-bro't + To heal the heart another smote; + But my dear life do seem the seäme + While I can hear, + A-soundčn near, + Your answ'rčn vaīce an' long-call'd neäme. + + An' oh! that hope, when life do dawn, + Should rise to light our wa˙, + An' then, wi' weänčn het withdrawn, + Should soon benight our wa˙. + Whatever mid beval me still, + Wherever chance mid call me still, + Though leäte my evenčn tweil mid cease, + An' though my night mid lose its peace, + My life will seem to me the seäme + While you do sheäre + My daily ceäre, + An' answer to your long-call'd neäme. + + + + +KINDNESS. + + + Good Meäster Collins heärd woone day + A man a-talkčn, that did zay + It woulden answer to be kind, + He thought, to vo'k o' grov'lčn mind, + Vor they would only teäke it wrong, + That you be weak an' they be strong. + "No," cried the goodman, "never mind, + Let vo'k be thankless,--you be kind; + Don't do your good for e'thly ends + At man's own call vor man's amends. + Though souls befriended should remaīn + As thankless as the sea vor raīn, + On them the good's a-lost 'tis true, + But never can be lost to you. + Look on the cool-feäced moon at night + Wi' light-vull ring, at utmost height, + A-castčn down, in gleamčn strokes, + His beams upon the dim-bough'd woaks, + To show the cliff a-risčn steep, + To show the stream a-vallčn deep, + To show where windčn roads do leäd, + An' prickly thorns do ward the meäd. + While sheädes o' boughs do flutter dark + Upon the woak-trees' moon-bright bark. + There in the lewth, below the hill, + The nightčngeäle, wi' ringčn bill, + Do zing among the soft-aīr'd groves, + While up below the house's oves + The maīd, a-lookčn vrom her room + Drough window, in her youthvul bloom, + Do listen, wi' white ears among + Her glossy heäirlocks, to the zong. + If, then, the while the moon do līght + The lwonesome zinger o' the night, + His cwold-beam'd light do seem to show + The prowlčn owls the mouse below. + What then? Because an evil will, + Ov his sweet good, mid meäke zome ill, + Shall all his feäce be kept behind + The dark-brow'd hills to leäve us blind?" + + + + +WITHSTANDERS. + + + When weakness now do strive wi' might + In struggles ov an e'thly trial, + Might mid overcome the right, + An' truth be turn'd by might's denial; + Withstanders we ha' mwost to feär, + If selfishness do wring us here, + Be souls a-holdčn in their hand, + The might an' riches o' the land. + + But when the wicked, now so strong, + Shall stan' vor judgment, peäle as ashes, + By the souls that rued their wrong, + Wi' tears a-hangčn on their lashes-- + Then wīthstanders they shall deäre + The leäst ov all to meet wi' there, + Mid be the helpless souls that now + Below their wrongvul might mid bow. + + Sweet childern o' the dead, bereft + Ov all their goods by guile an' forgčn; + Souls o' driven sleäves that left + Their weäry limbs a-mark'd by scourgčn; + They that God ha' call'd to die + Vor truth ageän the worold's lie, + An' they that groan'd an' cried in vaīn, + A-bound by foes' unrighteous chaīn. + + The maīd that selfish craft led on + To sin, an' left wi' hope a-blighted; + Starvčn workmen, thin an' wan, + Wi' hopeless leäbour ill requited; + Souls a-wrong'd, an' call'd to vill + Wi' dread, the men that us'd em ill. + When might shall yield to right as pliant + As a dwarf avore a giant. + + When there, at last, the good shall glow + In starbright bodies lik' their Seäviour, + Vor all their flesh noo mwore mid show, + The marks o' man's unkind beheäviour: + Wi' speechless tongue, an' burnčn cheak, + The strong shall bow avore the weäk, + An' vind that helplessness, wi' right, + Is strong beyond all e'thly might. + + + + +DANIEL DWITHEN, THE WISE CHAP. + + + Dan Dwithen wer the chap to show + His naīghbours mwore than they did know, + Vor he could zee, wi' half a thought, + What zome could hardly be a-taught; + An' he had never any doubt + Whatever 'twer, but he did know't, + An' had a-reach'd the bottom o't, + Or soon could meäke it out. + + Wi' narrow feäce, an' nose so thin + That light a'most shone drough the skin, + As he did talk, wi' his red peäir + O' lips, an' his vull eyes did steäre, + What nippy looks friend Daniel wore, + An' how he smiled as he did bring + Such reasons vor to clear a thing, + As dather'd vo'k the mwore! + + When woonce there come along the road + At night, zome show-vo'k, wi' a lwoad + Ov half the wild outlandīsh things + That crawl'd, or went wi' veet, or wings; + Their elephant, to stratch his knees, + Walk'd up the road-zide turf, an' left + His tracks a-zunk wi' all his heft + As big's a vinny cheese. + + An' zoo next mornčn zome vo'k vound + The girt round tracks upon the ground, + An' view'd em all wi' stedvast eyes, + An' wi' their vingers spann'd their size, + An' took their depth below the brink: + An' whether they mid be the tracks + O' things wi' witches on their backs, + Or what, they coulden think. + + At last friend Dan come up, an' brought + His wit to help their dizzy thought, + An' lookčn on an' off the ea'th, + He cried, a-drawčn a vull breath, + Why, I do know; what, can't ye zee 't? + I'll bet a shillčn 'twer a deer + Broke out o' park, an' sprung on here, + Wi' quoits upon his veet. + + + + +TURNČN THINGS OFF. + + + Upzides wi' Polly! no, he'd vind + That Poll would soon leäve him behind. + To turn things off! oh! she's too quick + To be a-caught by ev'ry trick. + Woone day our Jimmy stole down steäirs + On merry Polly unaweäres, + The while her nimble tongue did run + A-tellčn, all alive wi' fun, + To sister Anne, how Simon Heäre + Did hanker after her at feäir. + "He left," cried Polly, "cousin Jeäne, + An' kept wi' us all down the leäne, + An' which way ever we did leäd + He vollow'd over hill an' meäd; + An' wi' his head o' shaggy heäir, + An' sleek brown cwoat that he do weäre, + An' collar that did reach so high + 'S his two red ears, or perty nigh, + He swung his täil, wi' steps o' pride, + Back right an' left, vrom zide to zide, + A-walkčn on, wi' heavy strides + A half behind, an' half upzides." + "Who's that?" cried Jimmy, all agog; + An' thought he had her now han'-pat, + "That's Simon Heäre," but no, "Who's that?" + Cried she at woonce, "Why Uncle's dog, + Wi' what have you a-been misled + I wonder. Tell me what I zaid." + Woone evenčn as she zot bezide + The wall the ranglčn vine do hide, + A-prattlčn on, as she did zend + Her needle, at her vinger's end. + On drough the work she had in hand, + Zome bran-new thing that she'd a-plann'd, + Jim overheärd her talk ageän + O' Robin Hine, ov Ivy Leäne, + "Oh! no, what he!" she cried in scorn, + "I wouldčn gie a penny vor'n; + The best ov him's outzide in view; + His cwoat is ga˙ enough, 'tis true, + But then the wold vo'k didden bring + En up to know a single thing, + An' as vor zingčn,--what do seem + His zingčn's nothčn but a scream." + "So ho!" cried Jim, "Who's that, then, Meäry, + That you be now a-talkčn o'?" + He thought to catch her then, but, no, + Cried Polly, "Oh! why Jeäne's caneäry, + Wi' what have you a-been misled, + I wonder. Tell me what I zaid." + + + + +THE GIANTS IN TREÄDES. + +GRAMFER'S FEÄBLE. + +(_How the steam engine come about._) + + + _Vier, Aīr, E'th, Water_, wer a-meäde + Good workers, each o'm in his treäde, + An' _Aīr_ an' _Water_, wer a-match + Vor woone another in a mill; + The giant _Water_ at a hatch, + An' _Aīr_ on the windmill hill. + Zoo then, when _Water_ had a-meäde + Zome money, _Äir_ begrudg'd his treäde, + An' come by, unaweäres woone night, + An' vound en at his own mill-head, + An' cast upon en, iron-tight, + An icy cwoat so stiff as lead. + An' there he wer so good as dead + Vor grindčn any corn vor bread. + Then _Water_ cried to _Vier_, "Alack! + Look, here be I, so stiff's a log, + Thik fellor _Aīr_ do keep me back + Vrom grindčn. I can't wag a cog. + If I, dear _Vier_, did ever souse + Your nimble body on a house, + When you wer on your merry pranks + Wi' thatch or refters, beams or planks, + Vorgi'e me, do, in pity's neäme, + Vor 'twerden I that wer to bleäme, + I never wagg'd, though I be'nt cringčn, + Till men did dreve me wi' their engine. + Do zet me free vrom theäse cwold jacket, + Vor I myzelf shall never crack it." + "Well come," cried _Vier_, "My vo'k ha' meäde + An engine that 'ull work your treäde. + If _E'th_ is only in the mood, + While I do work, to gi'e me food, + I'll help ye, an' I'll meäke your skill + A match vor Mister _Aīr's_ wold mill." + "What food," cried _E'th_, "'ull suit your bwoard?" + "Oh! trust me, I ben't over nice," + Cried _Vier_, "an' I can eat a slice + Ov any thing you can avword." + "I've lots," cried _E'th_, "ov coal an' wood." + "Ah! that's the stuff," cried _Vier_, "that's good." + Zoo _Vier_ at woonce to _Water_ cried, + "Here, _Water_, here, you get inside + O' theäse girt bwoiler. Then I'll show + How I can help ye down below, + An' when my work shall woonce begin + You'll be a thousand times so strong, + An' be a thousand times so long + An' big as when you vu'st got in. + An' I wull meäke, as sure as death, + Thik fellor _Aīr_ to vind me breath, + An' you shall grind, an' pull, an' dreve, + An' zaw, an' drash, an' pump, an' heave, + An' get vrom _Aīr_, in time, I'll lay + A pound, the drevčn ships at sea." + An' zoo 'tis good to zee that might + Wull help a man a-wrong'd, to right. + + + + +THE LITTLE WOROLD. + + + My hwome wer on the timber'd ground + O' Duncombe, wi' the hills a-bound: + Where vew from other peärts did come, + An' vew did travel vur from hwome, + An' small the worold I did know; + But then, what had it to bestow + But Fanny Deäne so good an' feäir? + 'Twer wide enough if she wer there. + + In our deep hollow where the zun + Did eärly leäve the smoky tun, + An' all the meäds a-growčn dim, + Below the hill wi' zunny rim; + Oh! small the land the hills did bound, + But there did walk upon the ground + Young Fanny Deäne so good an' feäir: + 'Twer wide enough if she wer there. + + O' leäte upon the misty plaīn + I sta˙'d vor shelter vrom the raīn, + Where sharp-leav'd ashčs' heads did twist + In hufflčn wind, an' driftčn mist, + An' small the worold I could zee; + But then it had below the tree + My Fanny Deäne so good an' feäir: + 'Twer wide enough if she wer there. + + An' I've a house wi' thatchen ridge, + Below the elems by the bridge: + Wi' small-peän'd windows, that do look + Upon a knap, an' ramblčn brook; + An' small's my house, my ruf is low, + But then who mid it have to show + But Fanny Deäne so good an' feäir? + 'Tis fine enough if peace is there. + + + + +BAD NEWS. + + + I do mind when there broke bitter tidčns, + Woone day, on their ears, + An' their souls wer a-smote wi' a stroke + As the lightnčn do vall on the woak, + An' the things that wer bright all around em + Seem'd dim drough their tears. + + Then unheeded wer things in their vingers, + Their grief wer their all. + All unheeded wer zongs o' the birds, + All unheeded the child's perty words, + All unheeded the kitten a-rollčn + The white-threaded ball. + + Oh! vor their minds the daylight around em + Had nothčn to show. + Though it brighten'd their tears as they vell, + An' did sheen on their lips that did tell, + In their vaīces all thrillčn an' mwoansome, + O' nothčn but woe. + + But they vound that, by Heavenly mercy, + The news werden true; + An' they shook, wi' low laughter, as quick + As a drum when his blows do vall thick, + An' wer eärnest in words o' thanksgivčn, + Vor mercies anew. + + + + +THE TURNSTILE. + + + Ah! sad wer we as we did peäce + The wold church road, wi' downcast feäce, + The while the bells, that mwoan'd so deep + Above our child a-left asleep, + Wer now a-zingčn all alive + Wi' tother bells to meäke the vive. + But up at woone pleäce we come by, + 'Twer hard to keep woone's two eyes dry: + On Steän-cliff road, 'ithin the drong, + Up where, as vo'k do pass along, + The turnčn stile, a-paīnted white, + Do sheen by day an' show by night. + Vor always there, as we did goo + To church, thik stile did let us drough, + Wi' spreadčn eärms that wheel'd to guide + Us each in turn to tother zide. + An' vu'st ov all the traīn he took + My wife, wi' winsome gaīt an' look; + An' then zent on my little maīd, + A-skippčn onward, overja˙'d + To reach ageän the pleäce o' pride, + Her comely mother's left han' zide. + An' then, a-wheelčn roun', he took + On me, 'ithin his third white nook. + An' in the fourth, a-sheäkčn wild, + He zent us on our giddy child. + But eesterday he guided slow + My downcast Jenny, vull o' woe, + An' then my little maīd in black, + A-walkčn softly on her track; + An' after he'd a-turn'd ageän, + To let me goo along the leäne, + He had noo little bwoy to vill + His last white eärms, an' they stood still. + + + + +THE BETTER VOR ZEČN O' YOU. + + + 'Twer good what Meäster Collins spoke + O' spite to two poor spitevul vo'k, + When woone twold tother o' the two + "I be never the better vor zečn o' you." + If soul to soul, as Christians should, + Would always try to do zome good, + "How vew," he cried, "would zee our feäce + A-brighten'd up wi' smiles o' greäce, + An' tell us, or could tell us true, + I be never the better vor zečn o' you." + + A man mus' be in evil ceäse + To live 'ithin a land o' greäce, + Wi' nothčn that a soul can read + O' goodness in his word or deed; + To still a breast a-heav'd wi' sighs, + Or dry the tears o' weepčn eyes; + To sta˙ a vist that spite ha' wrung, + Or cool the het ov anger's tongue: + Or bless, or help, or gi'e, or lend; + Or to the friendless stand a friend, + An' zoo that all could tell en true, + "I be never the better vor zečn o' you." + + Oh! no, mid all o's try to spend + Our passčn time to zome good end, + An' zoo vrom day to day teäke heed, + By mind, an' han', by word or deed; + To lessen evil, and increase + The growth o' righteousness an' peäce, + A-speakčn words o' lovčn-kindness, + Openčn the eyes o' blindness; + Helpčn helpless striver's weakness, + Cheerčn hopeless grievers' meekness, + Meäkčn friends at every meetčn, + Veel the happier vor their greetčn; + Zoo that vew could tell us true, + "I be never the better vor zečn o' you." + No, let us even try to win + Zome little good vrom sons o' sin, + An' let their evils warn us back + Vrom teäkčn on their hopeless track, + Where we mid zee so clear's the zun + That harm a-done is harm a-won, + An' we mid cry an' tell em true, + "I be even the better vor zečn o' you." + + + + +PITY. + + + Good Meäster Collins! aye, how mild he spoke + Woone day o' Mercy to zome cruel vo'k. + "No, no. Have Mercy on a helpless head, + An' don't be cruel to a zoul," he zaid. + "When Babylon's king woonce cast 'ithin + The viery furnace, in his spite, + The vetter'd souls whose only sin + Wer pra˙er to the God o' might, + He vound a fourth, 'ithout a neäme, + A-walkčn wi' em in the fleäme. + + An' zoo, whenever we mid hurt, + Vrom spite, or vrom disdaīn, + A brother's soul, or meäke en smert + Wi' keen an' needless paīn, + Another that we midden know + Is always wi' en in his woe. + Vor you do know our Lord ha' cried, + "By faīth my bretheren do bide + In me the livčn vine, + As branches in a livčn tree; + Whatever you've a-done to mine + Is all a-done to me. + Oh! when the new-born child, the e'th's new guest, + Do lie an' heave his little breast, + In pillow'd sleep, wi' sweetest breath + O' sinless days drough rwosy lips a-drawn; + Then, if a han' can smite en in his dawn + O' life to darksome death, + Oh! where can Pity ever vwold + Her wings o' swiftness vrom their holy flight, + To leäve a heart o' flesh an' blood so cwold + At such a touchčn zight? + An' zoo mid meek-soul'd Pity still + Be zent to check our evil will, + An' keep the helpless soul from woe, + An' hold the hardened heart vrom sin. + Vor they that can but mercy show + Shall all their Father's mercy win." + + + + +JOHN BLOOM IN LON'ON. + +(_All true._) + + + John Bloom he wer a jolly soul, + A grinder o' the best o' meal, + Bezide a river that did roll, + Vrom week to week, to push his wheel. + His flour wer all a-meäde o' wheat; + An' fit for bread that vo'k mid eat; + Vor he would starve avore he'd cheat. + "'Tis pure," woone woman cried; + "Aye, sure," woone mwore replied; + "You'll vind it nice. Buy woonce, buy twice," + Cried worthy Bloom the miller. + + Athirt the chest he wer so wide + As two or dree ov me or you. + An' wider still vrom zide to zide, + An' I do think still thicker drough. + Vall down, he coulden, he did lie + When he wer up on-zide so high + As up on-end or perty nigh. + "Meäke room," woone naīghbour cried; + "'Tis Bloom," woone mwore replied; + "Good morn t'ye all, bwoth girt an' small," + Cried worthy Bloom the miller. + + Noo stings o' conscience ever broke + His rest, a-twitčn o'n wi' wrong, + Zoo he did sleep till mornčn broke, + An' birds did call en wi' their zong. + But he did love a harmless joke, + An' love his evenčn whiff o' smoke, + A-zittčn in his cheäir o' woak. + "Your cup," his daughter cried; + "Vill'd up," his wife replied; + "Aye, aye; a drap avore my nap," + Cried worthy Bloom the miller. + + When Lon'on vok did meäke a show + O' their girt glassen house woone year, + An' people went, bwoth high an' low, + To zee the zight, vrom vur an' near, + "O well," cried Bloom, "why I've a right + So well's the rest to zee the zight; + I'll goo, an' teäke the raīl outright." + "Your feäre," the booker cried; + "There, there," good Bloom replied; + "Why this June het do meäke woone zweat," + Cried worthy Bloom the miller, + + Then up the guard did whissle sh'ill, + An' then the engine pank'd a-blast, + An' rottled on so loud's a mill, + Avore the traīn, vrom slow to vast. + An' oh! at last how they did spank + By cuttčn deep, an' high-cast bank + The while their iron ho'se did pank. + "Do whizzy," woone o'm cried; + "I'm dizzy," woone replied; + "Aye, here's the road to hawl a lwoad," + Cried worthy Bloom the miller. + + In Lon'on John zent out to call + A tidy trap, that he mid ride + To zee the glassen house, an' all + The lot o' things a-stow'd inside. + "Here, Boots, come here," cried he, "I'll dab + A sixpence in your han' to nab + Down street a tidy little cab." + "A feäre," the boots then cried; + "I'm there," the man replied. + "The glassen pleäce, your quickest peäce," + Cried worthy Bloom the miller. + + The steps went down wi' rottlčn slap, + The zwingčn door went open wide: + Wide? no; vor when the worthy chap + Stepp'd up to teäke his pleäce inside, + Breast-foremost, he wer twice too wide + Vor thik there door. An' then he tried + To edge in woone an' tother zide. + "'Twont do," the drever cried; + "Can't goo," good Bloom replied; + "That you should bring theäse vooty thing!" + Cried worthy Bloom the miller. + + "Come," cried the drever. "Pay your feäre + You'll teäke up all my time, good man." + "Well," answer'd Bloom, "to meäke that square, + You teäke up me, then, if you can." + "I come at call," the man did nod. + "What then?" cried Bloom, "I han't a-rod, + An' can't in thik there hodmadod." + "Girt lump," the drever cried; + "Small stump," good Bloom replied; + "A little mite, to meäke so light, + O' jolly Bloom the miller." + + "You'd best be off now perty quick," + Cried Bloom. "an' vind a lighter lwoad, + Or else I'll vetch my voot, an' kick + The vooty thing athirt the road." + "Who is the man?" they cried, "meäke room," + "A halfstarv'd Do'set man," cried Bloom; + "You be?" another cried; + "Hee! Hee!" woone mwore replied. + "Aye, shrunk so thin, to bwone an' skin," + Cried worthy Bloom the miller. + + + + +A LOT O' MAĪDENS A-RUNNČN THE VIELDS.[F] + + + "Come on. Be sprack, a-laggčn back." + "Oh! be there any cows to hook?" + "Lauk she's afraīd, a silly maīd," + Cows? No, the cows be down by brook. + "O here then, oh! here is a lot." + "A lot o' what? what is it? what?" + "Why blackberries, as thick + As ever they can stick." + "I've dewberries, oh! twice + As good as they; so nice." + "Look here. Theäse boughs be all but blue + Wi' snags." + "Oh! gi'e me down a vew." + "Come here, oh! do but look." + "What's that? what is it now?" + "Why nuts a-slippčn shell." + "Hee! hee! pull down the bough." + "I wish I had a crook." + "There zome o'm be a-vell." + (_One sings_) + "I wish I was on Bimport Hill + I would zit down and cry my vill." + "Hee! hee! there's Jenny zomewhere nigh, + A-zingčn that she'd like to cry." + + (_Jenny sings_) + "I would zit down and cry my vill + Until my tears would dreve a mill." + "Oh! here's an ugly crawlčn thing, + A sneäke." "A slooworm; he wont sting." + "Hee! hee! how she did squal an' hop, + A-spinnčn roun' so quick's a top." + "Look here, oh! quick, be quick." + "What is it? what then? where?" + "A rabbit." "No, a heäre." + "Ooh! ooh! the thorns do prick," + "How he did scote along the ground + As if he wer avore a hound." + "Now mind the thistles." "Hee, hee, hee, + Why they be knapweeds." + "No." "They be." + "I've zome'hat in my shoe." + "Zit down, an' sheäke it out." + "Oh! emmets, oh! ooh, ooh, + A-crawlčn all about." + "What bird is that, O harken, hush. + How sweetly he do zing." + "A nightingeäle." "La! no, a drush." + "Oh! here's a funny thing." + "Oh! how the bull do hook, + An' bleäre, an' fling the dirt." + "Oh! wont he come athirt?" + "No, he's beyond the brook." + "O lauk! a hornet rose + Up clwose avore my nose." + "Oh! what wer that so white + Rush'd out o' thik tree's top?" + "An owl." "How I did hop, + How I do sheäke wi' fright." + "A musheroom." "O lau! + A twoadstool! Pwoison! Augh." + "What's that, a mouse?" + "O no, + Teäke ceäre, why 'tis a shrow." + "Be sure don't let en come + An' run athirt your shoe + He'll meäke your voot so numb + That you wont veel a tooe."[G] + "Oh! what wer that so loud + A-rumblčn?" "Why a clap + O' thunder. Here's a cloud + O' raīn. I veel a drap." + "A thunderstorm. Do raīn. + Run hwome wi' might an' main." + "Hee! hee! oh! there's a drop + A-trīckled down my back. Hee! hee!" + "My head's as wet's a mop." + "Oh! thunder," "there's a crack. Oh! Oh!" + "Oh! I've a-got the stitch, Oh!" + "Oh! I've a-lost my shoe, Oh!" + "There's Fanny into ditch, Oh!" + "I'm wet all drough an' drough, Oh!" + +[Footnote F: The idea, though but little of the substance, of this +poem, will be found in a little Italian poem called _Caccia_, written +by Franco Sacchetti.] + +[Footnote G: The folklore is, that if a shrew-mouse run over a +person's foot, it will lame him.] + + * * * * * + + + + +A LIST OF SOME DORSET WORDS + +WITH A FEW HINTS ON DORSET WORD-SHAPES. + + +THE MAIN SOUNDS. + + 1. _ee_ in beet. + 2. _e_ in Dorset (a sound between 1 and 3.) + 3. _a_ in mate. + 4. _i_ in birth. + 5. _a_ in father. + 6. _aw_ in awe. + 7. _o_ in dote. + 8. _oo_ in rood. + +In Dorset words which are forms of book-English ones, the Dorset words +differ from the others mainly by Grimm's law, that "likes shift into +likes," and I have given a few hints by which the putting of an +English heading for the Dorset one will give the English word. If the +reader is posed by _dreaten_, he may try for _dr_, _thr_, which will +bring out _threaten_. See _Dr_ under _D_. + + +A. + +_a_ in father, and _au_ in daughter are, in "Blackmore," often _a_ = 3. + So king Alfred gives a legacy to his _yldsta dehter_--oldest daehter. + _a_ is a fore-eking to participles of a fore time, as _a-vound_; + also for the Anglo-Saxon _an_, _in_ or _on_, + as _a-huntčn_ for _an huntunge_. + _aī_, _a˙_ (5, 1), Maīd, Ma˙. + (_Note_--The numbers (as 5, 1) refer to the foregiven table.) + _ag_, often for _eg_, as bag, agg, beg, egg. + +_Anewst_, _Anighst_, very near, or nearly. + +_A'r a_, ever a, as. + +_A'r a dog_, ever a dog. + +_Amper_, pus. + +_A'r'n_, e'er a one. + +_A-stooded_ (as a waggon), with wheels sunk fast into rotten ground. + +_A-stogged_, _A-stocked_, with feet stuck fast in clay. + +_A-strout_, stiff stretched. + +_A-thirt_, athwart (_th_ soft). + +_A-vore_, afore, before. + +_Ax_, ask. + +_Axan_, ashes (of fire). + +_A-zew_, dry, milkless. + + +B. + +_Backbran' (brand)_, _Backbron' (brond)_, A big brand or block of wood + put on the back of the fire. + +_Ballywrag_, scold. + +_Bandy_, a long stick with a bent end to beat abroad cow-dung. + +_Barken_, _Barton_, a stack-yard or cow yard. + +_Bavčn_, a faggot of long brushwood. + +_Beä'nhan'_ (1, 3, 5), bear in hand, uphold or maintain, as an opinion + or otherwise. + +_Beät_ (1, 4), _up_, to beat one's way up. + +_Bennets_, flower-stalks of grass. + +_Be'th_, birth. + +_Bibber_, to shake with cold. + [This is a Friesic and not an Anglo-Saxon form of the word, and + Halbertsma, in his "Lexicon Frisicum," gives it, among others, + as a token that Frisians came into Wessex with the Saxons. + _See_ Eltrot.] + +_Bissen_, thou bist not. + +_Bittle_, a beetle. + +_Blatch_, black stuff; smut. + +_Blather_, a bladder. + +_Bleäre_ (1, 3), to low as a cow. + +_Blind-buck o' Davy_, blindman's buff. + +_Bloodywarrior_, the ruddy Stock gilliflower. + +_Bloočns_, blossoms. + +_Blooth_, blossom in the main. + +_Bluevinny_, blue mouldy. + +_Brack_, a breach. "Neither brack nor crack in it." + +_Bran'_, a brand. + +_Brantčn_, brazen-faced. + +_Bring-gwaīn_ (Bring-going), to bring one on his way. + +_Brocks_, broken pieces (as of food). + +_Bron'_, a brand. + +_Bruckly_, _Bruckle_, brittle. + +_Bundle_, to bound off; go away quickly. + +_Bu'st_, burst. + + +C. + +_Caddle_, a muddle; a puzzling plight amid untoward things, such that + a man knows not what to do first. + +_Car_, to carry. + +_Cassen_, _casn_, canst not. + +_Chanker_, a wide chink. + +_Charlick_, _charlock_, field-mustard; _Sinapis arvensis_. + +_Charm_, a noise as of many voices. + +_Choor_, _a chare_, a (weekly) job as of house work. + +_Chuck_, to throw underhanded to a point, or for a catch. + +_Clack_, _Clacker_, a bird-clacker; a bird-boy's clacking tool, + to fray away birds; also the tongue. + +_Clavy_, _Clavy-bwoard_, the mantel-shelf. + +_Clčden_, cleavers, goosegrass; _Galium aparine._ + +_Clips_, to clasp. + +_Clitty_, clingy. + +_Clocks_, ornaments on the ankles of stockings. + +_Clom'_, clomb, climbed. + +_Clote_, the yellow water-lily; _Nuphar lutea_. + +_Clout_, a blow with the flat hand. + +_Clum_, to handle clumsily. + +_Cluster o' vive_ (cluster of five), the fist or hand with its five + fingers; wording taken from a cluster of nuts. + +_Cockle_, _Cuckle_, the bur of the burdock. + +_Cockleshell_, snail shell. + +_Colepexy_, to glean the few apples left on the tree after intaking. + +_Coll_ (7), to embrace the neck. + +_Conker_, the hip, or hep; the fruit of the briar. + +_Cothe_, _coath_ (_th_ soft), a disease of sheep, the + plaice or flook, a flat worm _Distoma nepaticum_ in the stomach. + +_Cou'den_, could not. + +_Coussen_, _Coossen_, _coosn_, couldest not. + +_Craze_, to crack a little. + +_Critch_, a big pitcher. + +_Crock_, an iron cooking-pot. + +_Croodle_, to crow softly. + +_Croop_, _Croopy-down_, to bend down the body; to stoop very low. + +_Crope_, crept. + +_Crowshell_, shell of the fresh-water mussel, as taken out of the + river for food by crows. + +_Cubby-hole_, _Cubby-house_, between the father's knees. + +_Culver_, the wood pigeon. + +_Cutty_, _Cut_, the kittywren. + +_Cweīn_, _Cwoīn_, (4, 1) coin. + +_Cwoffer_ (8, 4, 4), a coffer. + + +D. + +_Dadder_, _dather_, _dudder_, to maze or bewilder. + +_Dag_, _childag_, a chilblain. + +_Dake_, to ding or push forth. + +_Daps_, the very likeness, as that of a cast from the same mould. + +_Dather_, see _Dadder_. + +_Dent_, a dint. + +_Dewberry_, a big kind of blackberry. + +_Dibs_, coins; but truly, the small knee bones of a sheep used in the + game of Dibs. + +_Didden (didn)_, did not. + +_Do_, the _o_, when not under a strain of voice, is (4) as _e_ in 'the man' + or as _e_ in the French _le_. + +_Dod_, a dump. + +_Dogs_, andirons. + +_Don_, to put on. + +_Doust_, dust. + +_dr_ for _thr_ in some words, as Drash, thresh. + +_Drashel_, threshold. + +_Dreaten_, threaten. + +_Dree_, three. + +_Dringe_, _Drunge_, to throng; push as in a throng. + +_Droat_, throat. + +_Drong_, throng; also a narrow way. + +_Drough_, through. + +_Drow_, throw. + +_Drub_, throb. + +_Drush_, thrush. + +_Drust_, thrust. + +_Drean_, _Drčne_ (2), to drawl. + +_Drčve_ (2), drive. + +_Duck_, a darkening, dusk. + +_Dumbledore_, the humble bee. + +_Dummet_, dusk. + +_Dunch_, dull of hearing, or mind. + +_Dunch-nettle_, the dead nettle, _Lamium_. + +_Dunch-pudden_, pudding of bare dough. + +_Dungpot_, a dungcart. + +_Dunt_, to blunten as an edge or pain. + +_Durns_, the side posts of a door. + + +E. + + long itself alone has mostly the Dorset sound (2.) + +_eä_ (1, 4) for _ea_, with the _a_ unsounded as lead, mead, leäd, meäd. + +_eä_ (1, 3) for the long _a_, 3, as in lade, made, leäde, meäde. + +_ea_ of one sound (2) as meat. + +_e_ is put in before s after st, as nestes, nests, vistes, fists. + + The two sundry soundings of _ea_ 2 and 3 do not go by our spelling + _ea_ for both, but have come from earlier forms of the words. + + After a roof letter it may stay as it is, a roof letter, as madden, + madd'n; rotten, rott'n. So with _en_ for him, tell en, tell'n. + + The _en_ sometimes at the end of words means not, as bisse'n, bist not; + coust'en, cous'n, could'st not; I didd'n, I did not; diss'n, didst not; + hadd'n, had not; muss'n, must not; midd'n, mid not; + should'n, should not; 'tis'n, 'tis not; would'n, would not. + +_en_--not _čn_--in Dorset, as well as in book English, as an ending of + some kinds of words often, in running talk, loses the _e_, and in + some cases shifts into a sound of the kind of the one close before it. + After a lip-letter it becomes a lip-letter _m_, as Rub en, Rub-him; + rub'n, rub'm; oven, ov'm; open, op'n op'm, in Dorset mostly oben, + ob'n, ob'm. So after _f'_, deafen, deaf'n, deaf m, heaven, heav'n, + heav'm, in Dorset sometimes heab'm. zeven, zeb'n, zeb'm. + After a throat-letter it becomes a throat one, _ng_, as token, + tok'n, tok'ng. + +_[=e]_ (2). + +_Eegrass_, aftermath. + +_Eltrot_, Eltroot, cowparsley (_Myrrhis_). [Elt is Freisic, robustus, + vegetus, as cowparsley is among other kinds.] _See_ Bibber. + +_Emmet_, an ant. + +_Emmetbut_, an anthill. + +_En_, him; A.-Saxon, _hine_. + +_Čn_, for ing, zingčn, singing. + +_Eve_, to become wet as a cold stone floor from thickened steam in + some weather. + +_Evet_, eft, newt. + +_Exe_, an axle. + + +F. + +_Fakket_, a faggot. + +_Fall_, autumn; to fall down is _vall_. + +_Fa˙_ (5, 1) to speed, succeed. + +_Feäst_ (1, 4), a village wake or festival; _festa_. + +_Flag_, a water plant. + +_Flinders_, flying pieces of a body smashed; "Hit it all to flinders." + +_Flounce_, a flying fall as into water. + +_Flout_, a flinging, or blow of one. + +_Flush_, fledged. + +_Footy_, unhandily little. + + +G. + +_Gally_, to frighten, fray. + +_Gee_, _jee_, to go, fit, speed. + +_Giddygander_, the meadow orchis. + +_Gil'cup_, gilt cup, the buttercup. + +_Girt_, great. + +_Gl[=e]ne_ (2), to smile sneeringly. + +_Glutch_, to swallow. + +_Gnang_, to mock one with jaw waggings, and noisy sounds. + +_Gnot_, a gnat. + +_Goo_, go. + +_Goocoo flower_, _Cardamine pratensis_. + +_Goodnow_, goodn'er, good neighbour; my good friend; "No, no; not I, + goodnow;" "No, no; not I, my good friend." + +_Goolden chain_, the laburnum. + +_Gout_, an underground gutter. + +_Grægle_, _Greygle_, the wild hyacinth, _Hyacinthus nonscriptus_. + +_Gramfer_, grandfather. + +_Ground-ash_, an ash stick that springs from the ground, and so is tough; + "Ground the pick," to put the stem of it on the ground, to raise + a pitch of hay. + +_Gwoad_ (8, 4), a goad. + + +H. + +_Hacker_, a hoe. + +_Hagrod_, hagridden in sleep, if not under the nightmare. + +_Haīn_ (5, 1), to fence in ground or shut up a field for mowing. + +_Ha'me_, see _Hau'm_. + +_Hangčn_, sloping ground. + +_Hansel_, _Handsel_, a hand gift. + +_Hansel_, _Handsel_, to use a new thing for the first time. + +_Happer_, to hop up as hailstones or rain-drops from ground or pavement + in a hard storm, or as down-shaken apples; to fall so hard as to + hop up at falling. + +_Haps_, a hasp. + +_Ha'skim_, halfskim cheese of milk skimmed only once. + +_Hassen_, hast not. + +_Haum_, _Haulm_, _Hulm_, the hollow stalks of plants. _Teätie haum_ + potatoe stalks. + +_Hatch_, a low wicket or half door. + +_Ha˙meäkčn_, haymaking. + +The steps of haymaking by hand, in the rich meadow lands of Blackmore, +ere machines were brought into the field, were these:--The grass being +mown, and laying in _swath_ it was (1) _tedded_, spread evenly over +the ground; (2) it was _turned_ to dry the under side; (3) it was in +the evening raked up into _rollers_, each roller of the grass of the +stretch of one rake, and the rollers were sometimes put up into hay +cocks; (4) in the morning the rollers were cast abroad into _pa'sels_ +(parcels) or broad lists, with clear ground between each two; (5) the +parcels were turned, and when dry they were pushed up into _weäles_ +(weales) or long ridges, and, with a fear of rain, the weäles were put +up into _pooks_, or big peaked heaps; the waggon (often called the +_plow_) came along between two weäles or rows of pooks, with two +loaders, and a pitcher on each side pitched up to them the hay of his +side, while two women raked after plow, or raked up the leavings of +the pitchers, who stepped back from time to time to take it from them. + +_Hazen_, to forebode. + +_Hazzle_, hazel. + +_Heal_ (2), hide, to cover. + +_Heal pease_, to hoe up the earth on them. + +_Heän_ (1, 4), a haft, handle. + +_Heft_, weight. + +_Herence_, hence. + +_Here right_, here on the spot, etc. + +_Het_, heat, also a heat in running. + +_Het_, to hit. + +_Heth_, a hearth, a heath. + +_Hick_, to hop on one leg. + +_Hidelock_, _Hidlock_, a hiding place. "He is in hidelock." He is + absconded. + +_Hidybuck_, hide-and-seek, the game. + +_Hile of Sheaves_, ten, 4 against 4 in a ridge, and 1 at each end. + +_Ho_, to feel misgiving care. + +_Hodmadod_, a little dod or dump; in some parts of England a snail. + +_Holm_, ho'me, holly. + +_Hook_, to gore as a cow. + +_Honeyzuck_, honeysuckle. + +_Ho'se-tinger_, the dragon-fly, _Libellula_. _Horse_ does not mean a horse, + but is an adjective meaning coarse or big of its kind, as in + horse-radish, or horse-chesnut; most likely the old form of the + word gave name to the horse as the big beast where there was not + an elephant or other greater one. The dragon-fly is, in some parts + called the "tanging ether" or tanging adder, from _tang_, + a long thin body, and a sting. Very few Dorset folk believe that + the dragon-fly stings horses any more than that the horse eats + horse-brambles or horse-mushrooms. + +_Hud_, a pod, a hood-like thing. + +_Ho'se_, hoss, a board on which a ditcher may stand in a wet ditch. + +_Huddick_ (hoodock), a fingerstall. + +_Hull_, a pod, a hollow thing. + +_Humbuz_, a notched strip of lath, swung round on a string, and humming + or buzzing. + +_Humstrum_, a rude, home made musical instrument, now given up. + + +J. + +_Jack-o'-lent_, a man-like scarecrow. + The true Jack-o'-lent was, as we learn from Taylor, the water poet, + a ragged, lean-like figure which went as a token of Lent, in olden + times, in Lent processions. + +_Jist_, just. + +_Jut_, to nudge or jog quickly. + + +K. + +_Kag_, a keg. + +_Kapple cow_, a cow with a white muzzle. + +_Kern_, to grow into fruit. + +_Ketch_, _Katch_, to thicken or harden from thinness, as melted fat. + +_Kecks_, _Kex_, a stem of the hemlock or cowparsley. + +_Keys_, (2), the seed vessels of the sycamore. + +_Kid_, a pod, as of the pea. + +_Kittyboots_, low uplaced boots, a little more than ancle high. + +_Knap_, a hillock, a head, or knob, (2.) a knob-like bud, as of the + potatoe. "The teäties be out in knap." + + +L. + +_Läiter_ (5, 1), one run of laying of a hen. + +_Leän_ (1, 4), to lean. + +_Leäne_ (1, 3), a lane. + +_Leäse_ (1, 4), to glean. + +_Leäse_ (1, 4), _Leäze_, an unmown field, stocked through the Spring + and Summer. + +_Leer_, _Leery_, empty. + +_Lence_, a loan, a lending. + +_Levers_, _Livers_, the corn flag. + +_Lew_, sheltered from cold wind. + +_Lewth_, lewness. + +_Libbets_, loose-hanging rags. + +_Limber_, limp. + +_Linch_, _Linchet_, a ledge on a hill-side. + +_Litsome_, lightsome, gay. + +_Litty_, light and brisk of body. + +_Lo't_ (7), loft, an upper floor. + +_Lowl_, to loll loosely. + +_Lumper_, a loose step. + + +M. + +_Maesh_ (2), _Mesh_, (Blackmore) moss, also a hole or run of a hare, + fox, or other wild animal. + +_Mammet_, an image, scarecrow. + +_Marrels_, _Merrels_, The game of nine men's morris. + +_Mawn_, m[=a]n, (5) a kind of basket. + +_Meäden_ (1, 4), stinking chamomile. + +_Ment_ (2), to imitate, be like. + +_M[=e]sh_, (2) moss. + +_Mid_, might. + +_Miff_, a slight feud, a tiff. + +_Min_ (2), observe. You must know. + +_Mither ho_, come hither. A call to a horse on the road. + +_Moot_, the bottom and roots of a felled tree. + +_More_, a root, taproot. + +_Muggy_, misty, damp (weather). + + +N. + +_Na'r a_, never a (man). + +_Nar'n_, never a one. + +_N'eet_, not yet. + +_N[=e]sh_ (2), soft. + +_Nesthooden_, a hooding over a bird's nest, as a wren's. + +_Netlčns_, a food of a pig's inwards tied in knots. + +_Never'stide_, never at all. + +_Nicky_, a very small fagot of sticks. + +_Nīppy_, hungry, catchy. + +_Nitch_, a big fagot of wood; a load; a fagot of wood which custom allows +a hedger to carry home at night. + +_Not_ (hnot or knot), hornless. + +_Nother_, neither (adverb). + +_Nunch_, a nog or knob of food. + +_Nut_ (of a wheel), the stock or nave. + + +O. + +_O'_, of. + +_O'm_ (2), of em, them. + +_O'n_ (2), of him. + +_O's_ (2), of us. + +_Orts_, leavings of hay put out in little heaps in the fields for the cows. + +_Over-right_, opposite. + +_Oves_, eaves. + + +P. + +_Paladore_, a traditional name of Shaftesbury, the British _Caer Paladr_, + said by British history to have been founded by _Rhun Paladr-bras_, + 'Rhun of the stout spear.' + +_Pank_, pant. + +_Par_, to shut up close; confine. + +_Parrick_, a small enclosed field; a paddock--but paddock was an old + word for a toad or frog. + +_Pa'sels_, parcels. _See_ Ha˙meäkčn. + +_Peärt_ (1, 4), pert; lively. + +_Peaze_, _Peeze_ (2), to ooze. + +_Peewit_, the lapwing. + +_Pitch._ _See_ Ha˙meäkčn. + +_Plesh_, (2) _Plush_ (a hedge), to lay it. + To cut the stems half off and peg them down on the bank where they + sprout upward. + To plush, shear, and trim a hedge are sundry handlings of it. + +_Plim_, to swell up. + +_Plock_, a hard block of wood. + +_Plow_, a waggon, often so called. + The plough or plow for ploughing is the Zull. + +_Plounce_, a strong plunge. + +_Pluffy_, plump. + +_Pont_, to hit a fish or fruit, so as to bring on a rotting. + +_Pooks._ _See_ Ha˙meäkčn. + +_Popple_, a pebble. + +_Praīse_ (5, 1), prize, to put forth or tell to others a pain or ailing. + "I had a risčn on my eärm, but I didden praīse it," say anything + about it. + +_Pummy_, pomice. + + _ps_ for _sp_ in clasp, claps; hasp, haps; wasp, waps. + + +Q. + +_Quaer_, queer. + +_Quag_, a quaking bog. + +_Quar_, a quarry. + +_Quarrel_, a square window pane. + +_Quid_, a cud. + +_Quirk_, to grunt with the breath without the voice. + + +R. + +_R_, at the head of a word, is strongly breathed, as _Hr_ in Anglo-Saxon, + as _Hhrong_, the rong of a ladder. + +_R_ is given in Dorset by a rolling of the tongue back under the roof. + +For _or_, as an ending sometimes given before a free breathing, or _h_, + try _ow_,--_hollor_, hollow. + +_R_ before _s_, _st_, and _th_ often goes out, as bu'st, burst; + ve'ss, verse; be'th, birth; cu'st, curst; fwo'ce, force; me'th, mirth. + +_Raft_, to rouse, excite. + +_Rake_, to reek. + +_Ram_, _Rammish_, rank of smell. + +_Rammil_, raw milk (cheese), of unskimmed milk. + +_Ramsclaws_, the creeping crowfoot. _Ranunculus repens._ + +_Randy_, a merry uproar or meeting. + +_Rangle_, to range or reach about. + +_Rathe_, early; whence rather. + +_Ratch_, to stretch. + +_Readship_, criterion, counsel. + +_Reämes_, (1, 3), skeleton, frame. + +_Reän_ (1, 4), to reach in greedily in eating. + +_Reäves_, a frame of little rongs on the side of a waggon. + +_Reed_ (2), wheat hulm drawn for thatching. + +_Reely_, to dance a reel. + +_Reem_, to stretch, broaden. + +_Rick_, a stack. + +_Rig_, to climb about. + +_Rivel_, shrivel; to wrinkle up. + +_Robin Hood_, The Red campion. + +_Roller_ (6, 4). _See_ Ha˙meäkčn. + A Roller was also a little roll of wool from the card of a woolcomber. + +_Rottlepenny_, the yellow rattle. _Rhinanthus Crista-galli._ + +_Rouet_, a rough tuft of grass. + + +S. + +_Sammy_, soft, a soft head; simpleton. + +_Sar_, to serve or give food to (cattle). + +_Sarch_, to search. + +_Scote_, to shoot along fast in running. + +_Scrag_, a crooked branch of a tree. + +_Scraggle_, to screw scramly about (of a man), to screw the limbs + scramly as from rheumatism. + +_Scram_, distorted, awry. + +_Scroff_, bits of small wood or chips, as from windfalls or hedge plushing. + +_Scroop_, to skreak lowly as new shoes or a gate hinge. + +_Scud_, a sudden or short down-shooting of rain, a shower. + +_Scwo'ce_, chop or exchange. + +_Settle_, a long bench with a high planken back. + +_Shard_, a small gap in a hedge. + +_Sharps_, shafts of a waggon. + +_Shatten_, shalt not. + +_Shroud_ (trees), to cut off branches. + +_Sheeted cow_, with a broad white band round her body. + +_Shoulden (Shoodn)_, should not. + +_Shrow_, _Sh'ow_, _Sh'ow-crop_, the shrew mouse. + +_Skim_, _Skimmy_, grass; to cut off rank tuffs, or rouets. + +_Slaīt_, (5, 1) _Slite_, a slade, or sheep run. + +_Slent_, a tear in clothes. + +_Slidder_, to slide about. + +_Slim_, sly. + +_Sloo_, sloe. + +_Slooworm_, the slow-worm. + +_Smame_, to smear. + +_Smeech_, a cloud of dust. + +_Smert_, to smart; pain. + +_Snabble_, to snap up quickly. + +_Snags_, small pea-big sloes, also stumps. + +_Sneäd_ (1, 4), a scythe stem. + +_Snoatch_, to breathe loudly through the nose. + +_Snoff_, a snuff of a candle. + +_Sock_, a short loud sigh. + +_Spur (dung)_, to cast it abroad. + +_Squaīl_ (5, 1), to fling something at a bird or ought else. + +_Squot_, to flatten by a blow. + +_Sowel_, _Zowel_, a hurdle stake. + +_Sparbill_, _Sparrabill_, a kind of shoe nail. + +_Spars_, forked sticks used in thatching. + +_Speäker_ (1 4), a long spike of wood to bear the hedger's nitch on + his shoulder. + +_Spears_, _Speers_, the stalks of reed grass. + +_Spik_, spike, lavender. + +_Sprack_, active. + +_Sprethe_ (2), to chap as of the skin, from cold. + +_Spry_, springy in leaping, or limb work. + +_Staddle_, a bed or frame for ricks. + +_Staīd_ (5, 1), steady, oldish. + +_Stannčns_, stalls in a fair or market. + +_Steän_ (1, 4) (a road), to lay it in stone. + +_Steärt_ (1, 4), a tail or outsticking thing. + +_Stout_, the cowfly, _Tabanus_. + +_Stitch_ (of corn), a conical pile of sheaves. + +_Strawčn_, a strewing. All the potatoes of one mother potatoe. + +_Strawmote_, a straw or stalk. + +_Strent_, a long slent or tear. + +_Streech_, an outstretching (as of a rake in raking); a-strout stretched + out stiffly like frozen linen. + +_Stubbard_, a kind of apple. + +_Stunpoll_ (7), stone head, blockhead; also an old tree almost dead. + + +T. + +_th_ is soft (as _th_ in thee), as a heading of these words:-- + thatch, thief, thik, thimble, thin, think, thumb. + +_Tack_, a shelf on a wall. + +_Taffle_, to tangle, as grass or corn beaten down by storms. + +_Taīt_, to play at see-saw. + +_Tamy_ (3, 1), _tammy_ (5, 1), tough, that may be drawn out in strings, + as rich toasted cheese. + +_Teäve_, (1, 3), to reach about strongly as in work or a struggle. + +_Teery_, _Tewly_, weak of growth. + +_Tewly_, weakly. + +_Theäse_, this or these. + +_Theasum_ (1, 4), these. + +_Tidden (tidn)_, it is not. + +_Tilty_, touchy, irritable. + +_Timmersome_, restless. + +_Tine_, to kindle, also to fence in ground. + +_Tistytosty_, a toss ball of cowslip blooms. + +_To-year_, this year (as to-day.) + +_Tranter_, a common carrier. + +_Trendel_, a shallow tub. + +_Tump_, a little mound. + +_Tun_, the top of the chimney above the roof ridge. + +_Tut_ (work), piecework. + +_Tutty_, a nosegay. + +_Tweil_, (4, 1) toil. + +_Twite_, to twit reproach. + + +U. + +_Unheal_, uncover, unroof. + + +V. + +_v_ is taken for _f_ as the heading of some purely English words, + as vall, fall, vind, find. + +_Veag_, _V[=e]g_ (2), a strong fit of anger. + +_Vern_, fern. + +_Ve'se_, vess, a verse. + +_Vinny cheese_, cheese with fen or blue-mould. + +_Vitty_, nice in appearance. + +_Vlanker_, a flake of fire. + +_Vlee_, fly. + +_Vo'k_, folk. + +_Vooty_, unhandily little. + +_Vuz_, _Vuzzen_, furze, gorse. + + +W. + +_wo_ (8, 4), for the long o, 7, as bwold, bold; cwold, cold. + +_Wag_, to stir. + +_Wagwanton_, quaking grass. + +_Weäse_, (1, 4) a pad or wreath for the head under a milkpail. + +_Weäle_ (1, 3), a ridge of dried hay; see _Ha˙meäkčn_. + +_Welshnut_, a walnut. + +_Werden_, were not or was not. + +_Wevet_, a spider's web. + +_Whindlčn_, weakly, small of growth. + +_Whicker_, to neigh. + +_Whiver_, to hover, quiver. + +_Whog_, go off; to a horse. + +_Whur_, to fling overhanded. + +_Wi'_, with. + +_Widdicks_, withes or small brushwood. + +_Wink_, a winch; crank of a well. + +_Withwind_, the bindweed, + +_Wont_, a mole. + +_Wops_, wasp. + _ps_, not _sp_, in Anglo-Saxon, and now in Holstein. + +_Wotshed_, _Wetshod_, wet-footed. + +_Wride_, to spread out in growth. + +_Wride_, the set of stems or stalks from one root or grain of corn. + +_Writh_, a small wreath of tough wands, to link hurdles to the sowels + (stakes). + +_Wrix_, wreathed or wattle work, as a fence. + + +Y. + +_Yop_, yelp. + + +Z. + +_z_ for _s_ as a heading of some, not all, pure Saxon words, nor [or?] + for _s_ of inbrought foreign words. + +_Zand_, sand. + +_Zennit_, _Zennight_, seven night; "This day zennit." + +_Zew, azew_, milkless. + +_Zoo_, so. + +_Zive_, a scythe. + +_Zull_ a plough to plough ground. + +_Zwath_, a swath. + + + * * * * * + +_Turnbull & Spears, Printers._ + + + * * * * * + + +Transcriber's Note: + +TOC: 423 corrected to 243 + +Page 137: Replaced missing end-quote. + +Page 194: Replaced missing end-quote. + +Page 197: Changed jäy to ja˙. + +Page 235: replaced two periods with commas. + +Page 243: restored title: BLEÄKE'S HOUSE IN BLACKMWORE. + +Page 297: Replaced missing end-quote. + +Page 350: Changed jäy to ja˙. + +Page 432: changed däy to da˙. + +Page 444: Replaced missing end-quote. + + Index: Added missing stops to E, F, G, H. + + Realigned 'Scote' alphabetically. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset +Dialect, by William Barnes + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF RURAL LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 21785-8.txt or 21785-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/7/8/21785/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Lesley Halamek and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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