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+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' Riddèn House                         5
+Easter Zunday                                       8
+Easter Monday                                       9
+Dock-Leaves                                         9
+The Blackbird                                      10
+Woodcom' Feäst                                     12
+The Milk-Maïd o' the Farm                          13
+The Girt Woak Tree that's in the Dell              15
+Vellèn o' the Tree                                 16
+Bringèn Woone Gwaïn o' Zundays                     17
+Evenèn Twilight                                    18
+Evenèn 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 Coortèn                     30
+
+
+SUMMER.
+
+Evenèn, an' Maïdens out at Door                    34
+The Shepherd o' the Farm                           35
+Vields in the Light                                36
+Whitsuntide an' Club Walkèn                        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
+Havèn Woones Fortune a-twold                       46
+Jeäne's Weddèn Day in Mornèn                       47
+Rivers don't gi'e out                              49
+Meäken up a Miff                                   50
+Haÿ-Meäken                                         51
+Haÿ-Carrèn                                         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-cleärèn                                  61
+The Evenèn Star o' Zummer                          62
+The Clote                                          63
+I got two Vields                                   65
+Polly be-èn upzides wi' Tom                        66
+Be'mi'ster                                         67
+Thatchèn o' the Rick                               68
+Bees a-Zwarmèn                                     69
+Readèn ov a Head-stwone                            70
+Zummer Evenèn Dance                                71
+Eclogue:--The Veäiries                             72
+
+
+FALL.
+
+Corn a-turnèn Yollow                               76
+A-Haulèn 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
+Mornèn                                             88
+Out a-Nuttèn                                       90
+Teäkèn in Apples                                   91
+Meäple Leaves be Yollow                            92
+Night a-zettèn 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 Weepèn 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
+Keepèn up o' Chris'mas                            121
+Zittèn 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 Maïd 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 Drèven 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 Vaïces 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 Stwonèn 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 Maïdens                                185
+My Orcha'd in Lindèn Lea                          186
+Bishop's Caundle                                  187
+Hay Meäkèn--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
+Gwaïn down the Steps                              201
+Ellen Brine ov Allenburn                          202
+The Motherless Child                              203
+The Leädy's Tower                                 204
+Fatherhood                                        208
+The Maïd o' Newton                                211
+Childhood                                         212
+Meäry's Smile                                     213
+Meäry Wedded                                      214
+The Stwonèn Bwoy                                  215
+The Young that died in Beauty                     217
+Fäir Emily of Yarrow Mill                         218
+The Scud                                          219
+Mindèn House                                      221
+The Lovely Maïd 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
+Milkèn Time                                       247
+When Birds be Still                               248
+Ridèn Hwome at Night                              249
+Zun-zet.                                          250
+Spring                                            252
+The Zummer Hedge                                  253
+The Water Crowvoot                                254
+The Lilac                                         255
+The Blackbird                                     256
+The Slantèn light o' Fall                         257
+Thissledown                                       259
+The May-tree                                      259
+The Lydlinch Bells                                260
+The Stage Coach                                   261
+Wayfeärèn                                         263
+The Leäne                                         265
+The Raïlroad                                      267
+The Raïlroad                                      268
+Seats                                             268
+Sound o' Water                                    270
+Trees be Company                                  270
+A Pleäce in Zight                                 272
+Gwaïn 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-praïs'd                                  293
+The Wife a-lost                                   295
+The Thorns in the Geäte                           296
+Angels by the Door                                297
+Vo'k a-comèn into Church                          298
+Woone Rule                                        299
+Good Meäster Collins                              300
+Herrènston                                        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 Gaÿ                                       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 Plaÿmeätes                              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 Plaÿmeäte                                   359
+Pickèn 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-gettèn 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-tellèn                            386
+Sheädes                                           387
+Times o' Year                                     387
+Eclogue:--Racketèn 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
+Evenèn Light                                      400
+Vields by Watervalls                              401
+The Wheel Routs                                   402
+Nanny's new Abode                                 403
+Leaves a-vallèn                                   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
+Slidèn                                            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-ridèn                                      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
+Turnèn things off                                 444
+The Giants in Treädes                             445
+The Little Worold                                 447
+Bad News                                          448
+The Turnstile                                     449
+The Better vor zeèn o' you                        450
+Pity                                              451
+John Bloom in Lon'on                              453
+A Lot o' Maïdens                                  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-buildèn 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 hangèn 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 evenèn in the zunsheen.
+
+  An' God do meäke his win' to blow
+  An' raïn to vall vor high an' low,
+  An' bid his mornèn 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 veedèn herds,
+  An' hear the zingèn 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-aïr'd spring-time, zunny woodlands!
+  As when, in drong or open ground,
+  Wi' happy bwoyish heart I vound
+  The twitt'rèn birds a-buildèn round
+    Your high-bough'd hedges, zunny woodlands.
+
+  You gie'd me life, you gie'd me jaÿ,
+    Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands
+  You gie'd me health, as in my plaÿ
+    I rambled through ye, zunny woodlands!
+  You gie'd me freedom, vor to rove
+  In aïry meäd or sheädy grove;
+  You gie'd me smilèn Fannèy'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 missèn 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 evenèn, 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, strugglèn hard an' clingèn tight,
+  They reach'd at last my feäce's height.
+  All tryèn which could soonest hold
+  My mind wi' little teäles they twold.
+  An' riddèn 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 comèn 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 lumbrèn waggon,
+  An' when he come, we vell a-packèn
+  The bedsteads, wi' their rwopes an' zackèn;
+  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' fryèn-pan, vor aggs to slide
+  In butter round his hissèn zide,
+  An' gridire's even bars, to bear
+  The drippèn steäke above the gleäre
+  O' brightly-glowèn 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 twinèn screw,
+  An' all the païls 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-streamèn weak
+  Drough empty rooms, an' meäkèn 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 riddèn 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 laggèns on, an' tied
+  His shoes wi' strings two vingers wide,
+      Because 'twer Easter Zunday.
+
+  An' after mornèn 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-turnèn proudly to their view
+  His yollow breast an' back o' blue.
+  The lambs did plaÿ, 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 maïdens 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 plaÿ'd away at quaïts,
+  An' weigh'd ourzelves wi' sceäles an' waïghts;
+  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' plaÿ'd at vives ageän the tower.
+  An' then we went an' had a taït,
+  An' cousin Sammy, wi' his waïght,
+  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 plaÿ 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' tricklèn 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 plaÿ-geämes we did bruise
+  The dock-leaves wi' our nimble shoes;
+  Bwoth where we merry chaps did fling
+  You maïdens in the orcha'd swing,
+  An' by the zaw-pit's dousty bank,
+  Where we did taït 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 vlèe-èn 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-swingèn high,
+  Mid zing below a cloudless sky.
+  An' sparrows, clust'rèn roun' the bough,
+  Mid chatter to the men at plough,--
+  The blackbird, whisslèn in among
+  The boughs, do zing the gaÿest zong.
+
+  Vor we do hear the blackbird zing
+  His sweetest ditties in the spring,
+  When nippèn 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 gaÿest zong.
+
+  'Tis blithe, wi' newly-open'd eyes,
+  To zee the mornèn's ruddy skies;
+  Or, out a-haulèn 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' evenèn wi' the blackbird's zong.
+
+  Vor when my work is all a-done
+  Avore the zettèn o' the zun,
+  Then blushèn Jeäne do walk along
+  The hedge to meet me in the drong,
+  An' staÿ till all is dim an' dark
+  Bezides the ashen tree's white bark;
+  An' all bezides the blackbird's shrill
+  An' runnèn evenèn-whissle's still.
+
+  An' there in bwoyhood I did rove
+  Wi' pryèn eyes along the drove
+  To vind the nest the blackbird meäde
+  O' grass-stalks in the high bough's sheäde:
+  Or clim' aloft, wi' clingèn knees,
+  Vor crows' aggs up in swaÿèn 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 maïd,
+  O' chickèn drown'd, or ducks a-straÿ'd;
+  Nor mwope to vind thy new frock's taïl
+  A-tore by hitchèn in a naïl;
+  Nor grieve an' hang thy head azide,
+  A-thinkèn o' thy lam' that died.
+  The flag's a-vleèn wide an' high,
+  An' ringèn 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-dancèn soon,--the drum
+  'S a-rumblèn 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 mwopèn 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-zittèn 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 zettèn zun
+  Do leäve in sheäde our harmless fun,
+  The moon a-risèn 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 nothèn vor to mwope about,--
+  Come out, you leäzy jeäde, come out!
+  An' thou wult be, to woone at leäst,
+  The prettiest maïd at Woodcom' feäst.
+
+
+
+
+THE MILK-MAID O' THE FARM.
+
+
+  O Poll's the milk-maïd o' the farm!
+    An' Poll's so happy out in groun',
+  Wi' her white païl 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 sparklèn bright,
+    An' zoo her cheäks be bloomèn red.
+
+  In zummer mornèns, 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 evenèn, when the zun
+    Do sheen ageän the western brows
+  O' hills, where bubblèn brooks do run,
+    There she do zing bezide her cows.
+
+  An' ev'ry cow of hers do stand,
+    An' never overzet her païl;
+  Nor try to kick her nimble hand,
+    Nor switch her wi' her heavy taïl.
+
+  Noo leädy, wi' her muff an' vaïl,
+    Do walk wi' sich a steätely tread
+  As she do, wi' her milkèn païl
+    A-balanc'd on her comely head.
+
+  An' she, at mornèn 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-maïd o' the farm!
+    An' Poll's so happy out in groun',
+  Wi' her white païl 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 wrestlèn storms vrom his broad head.
+  An' down below's the cloty brook
+  Where I did vish with line an' hook,
+  An' beät, in plaÿsome dips and zwims,
+  The foamy stream, wi' white-skinn'd lim's.
+  An' there my mother nimbly shot
+  Her knittèn-needles, as she zot
+  At evenèn down below the wide
+  Woak's head, wi' father at her zide.
+  An' I've a-plaÿed 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 maïd I fondly lov'd,--
+  The maïd too feäir to die so soon,--
+  When evenèn 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 saïlèn wi' the girt woak tree:
+  An' I upon his planks would stand,
+  An' die a-fightèn 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-stannèn this mornèn, 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 mowèn, wi' het an' wi' drîth,
+  Where the haÿ-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-hangèn 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-stannèn this mornèn, an' now's a-cut down.
+
+
+
+
+BRINGEN WOONE GWAÏN[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-growèn 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 gwaïn o' Zundays.
+
+  Vor after church, when we got hwome,
+  In evenèn 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 gwaïn o' Zundays.
+
+  How we did scote all down the groun',
+  A-pushèn woone another down!
+  Or challengèn 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 gwaïn 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 gwaïn o' Zundays.
+
+[Footnote A: "To bring woone gwaïn,"--to bring one going; to bring one
+on his way.]
+
+
+
+
+EVENÈN 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' skippèn veet
+      At evenèn in the twilight.
+
+  The evenèn aïr did fan, in turn,
+  The cheäks the midday zun did burn.
+  An' zet the russlèn leaves at plaÿ,
+  An' meäke the red-stemm'd brembles sway
+  In bows below the snow-white maÿ;
+    An' whirlèn roun' the trees, did sheäke
+    Jeäne's raven curls about her neck,
+      They evenèns in the twilight.
+
+  An' there the yollow light did rest
+  Upon the bank towárd the west,
+  An' twitt'rèn birds did hop in drough
+  The hedge, an' many a skippèn shoe
+  Did beät the flowers, wet wi' dew,
+    As underneäth the tree's wide limb
+    Our merry sheäpes did jumpy, dim,
+      They evenèns in the twilight.
+
+  How sweet's the evenèn 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 ruslèn ov a leaf, "Good night,"
+      At evenèn 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 evenèn in the twilight.
+
+
+
+
+EVENÈN 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-zendèn 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 flickerèn light drough the window-peäne
+    Vrom the candle's dull fleäme do shoot,
+  An' young Jemmy the smith is a-gone down leäne,
+    A-plaÿèn his shrill-vaïced 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 Maÿ
+  The trees be green, the vields be gaÿ;
+  The weather's warm, the winter blast,
+  Wi' all his traïn o' clouds, is past;
+  The zun do rise while vo'k do sleep,
+  To teäke a higher daily zweep,
+  Wi' cloudless feäce a-flingèn down
+  His sparklèn light upon the groun'.
+
+  The air's a-streamèn 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 gaÿ 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 spraÿ
+  O' bushes deck'd wi' snow-white maÿ;
+  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 theïr knees,
+  Do stan' a-whiskèn 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 gaÿ 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 comèn on:
+  Nor mid I draw upon the e'th,
+  O' thy sweet aïr my leätest breath;
+  Alassen I mid want to staÿ
+  Behine' for thee, O flow'ry May!
+
+
+
+
+BOB THE FIDDLER.
+
+
+  Oh! Bob the fiddler is the pride
+  O' chaps an' maïdens 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' plaÿ what you do please.
+  At Maypolèn, 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 blushèn cheäks that bloom'd vor me!
+
+  An' afterward, in lightsome youth,
+    When zummer wer a-comèn on,
+  An' all the trees wer white wi' blooth,
+  An' dippèn zwallows skimm'd the pon';
+  Sweet hope did vill my heart wi' jaÿ,
+  An' tell me, though thik spring wer gaÿ,
+  There still would come a brighter Maÿ,
+    Wi' blushèn cheäks to bloom vor me!
+
+  An' when, at last, the time come roun',
+    An' brought a lofty zun to sheen
+  Upon my smilèn Fanny, down
+    Drough n[=e]sh young leaves o' yollow green;
+  How charmèn wer the het that glow'd,
+  How charmèn wer the sheäde a-drow'd,
+  How charmèn 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 staÿ:
+  An' year by year do now come in,
+    To peärt me wider vrom my jaÿ,
+  Vor what's to meet, or what's to peärt,
+  Wi' maïdens kind, or maïdens 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 smilèn 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-lyèn nigh,
+  Be back'd by hills so blue's the sky;
+  Then, while the bells do sweetly cheem
+  Upon the champèn high-neck'd team,
+  How lively, wi' a friend, do seem
+    The white road up athirt the hill.
+
+  The zwellèn downs, wi' chalky tracks
+  A-climmèn 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 plaÿ an' joke,
+  An' in the evenèn all our vo'k
+    Do bring em gwaïn 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' comèn friends do tread
+    The white road down athirt the hill.
+
+  An' when the windèn road so white,
+  A-climmèn up the hills in zight,
+  Do leäd to pleäzen, east or west,
+  The vu'st a-known, an' lov'd the best,
+  How touchèn 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 blushèn 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 plaÿsome runs
+      About the woody hollow.
+
+  When evenèn's risèn moon did peep
+  Down drough the hollow dark an' deep,
+  Where gigglèn sweethearts meäde their vows
+  In whispers under waggèn boughs;
+  When whisslèn bwoys, an' rott'lèn ploughs
+    Wer still, an' mothers, wi' their thin
+    Shrill vaïces, call'd their daughters in,
+      From walkèn 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' overbearèn words
+  Do prick my bleedèn 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 chrissenèn;
+  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-thinkèn 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 staÿ leäte,
+  An' she, a-smilèn 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-workèn and a-zingèn lik' a bee.
+  How do it answer? what d'ye think about it?
+  D'ye think 'tis better wi' it than without it?
+  A-recknèn 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-crackèn 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 starvèn, 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'rèn men;
+  An', faïth, 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' dungèn, diggèn up, an' zeedèn,
+  A-thinnèn, cleänèn, howèn up an' weedèn,
+  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 workèn, 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 nothèn wull be vound
+  Soon doèn woorse than nothèn, 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' netlèns 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 teazèn maïd!
+  How leäte you be a' come! Where have ye staÿ'd?
+  How long you have a-meäde me waït about!
+  I thought you werden gwaïn 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 staÿ
+  Vor me a minute longer, I do praÿ.
+
+  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 evenèn 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-lendèn me his eärm.
+  An' as vor kissèn 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'èn 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 kissèn!
+
+  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'èn vo'k a drashèn,
+  An' breakèn 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 scwoldèn 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 smilèn; 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-comèn down the groun'
+  Towards the stile. Who is it? Come, get down
+  I must run hwome, upon my word then, now;
+  If I do staÿ, they'll kick up sich a row.
+  Good night. I can't staÿ now.
+
+JOHN.
+
+      Then good night, Fanny!
+Come out a-bit to-morrow evenèn, can ye?
+
+
+
+
+SUMMER.
+
+
+
+
+EVENÈN, AN' MAIDENS OUT AT DOOR.
+
+
+  Now the sheädes o' the elems do stratch mwore an' mwore,
+  Vrom the low-zinkèn zun in the west o' the sky;
+  An' the maïdens 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 jaÿ under evenèn'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 traïn'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 maïdens! 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 maïdens avore
+  Their doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.
+
+  Vor daughters ha' mornèn when mothers ha' night,
+  An' there's beauty alive when the feäirest is dead;
+  As when woone sparklèn weäve do zink down vrom the light,
+  Another do come up an' catch it instead.
+
+  Zoo smile on, happy maïdens! but I shall noo mwore
+  Zee the maïd I do miss under evenèn'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' tinklèn 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 evenèn sheädes be long,
+    Do zee em all a-penn'd an' twold.
+
+  An' I do zee the friskèn lam's,
+    Wi' swingèn taïls an' woolly lags,
+  A-playèn roun' their veedèn dams
+    An' pullèn 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' blinkèn eyes,
+    An' nose a-stratch'd upon the grass;
+
+  But, in a twinklèn, 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 washèn pool,
+    A-sousèn over head an' ears,
+  The shaggy sheep, to cleän their wool
+    An' meäke em ready vor the sheärs.
+
+  An' when the shearèn 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 shearèn'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' tinklèn 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' jaÿ
+  In comèn manhood light an' gaÿ
+  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 swaÿ an' brooks do run,
+  By risèn moon or zettèn zun.
+
+  Vor when at evenèn I do look
+  All down theäse hangèn on the brook,
+  Wi' weäves a-leäpèn clear an' bright,
+  Where boughs do swaÿ in yollow light;
+  Noo hills nor hollows, woods nor streams,
+  A-voun' by daÿ or zeed in dreams,
+  Can ever seem so fit to be
+  Good angel's hwomes, though they do gi'e
+  But païn an' tweil to such as we.
+
+  An' when by moonlight darksome sheädes
+  Do lie in grass wi' dewy bleädes,
+  An' worold-hushèn 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 milkèn païls 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' païnted poles an' knots o' blue,
+  An' girt silk flags,--I wish my box
+  'D a-got em all in ceäpes an' frocks,--
+  A-weävèn wide an' flappèn loud
+  In plaÿsome 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'rèn crowds
+  Kick'd up the doust in smeechy clouds,
+  That slowly rose an' spread abrode
+  In streamèn aïr above the road.
+  An' then at church there wer sich lots
+  O' hats a-hangèn up wi' knots,
+  An' poles a-stood so thick as iver,
+  The rushes stood beside a river.
+  An' Mr Goodman gi'ed em warnèn
+  To spend their evenèn lik' their mornèn;
+  An' not to praÿ wi' mornèn tongues,
+  An' then to zwear wi' evenèn lungs:
+  Nor vu'st sheäke hands, to let the wrist
+  Lift up at last a bruisèn vist:
+  Vor clubs were all a-meän'd vor friends,
+  He twold em, an' vor better ends
+  Than twitèn vo'k an' pickèn quarrels,
+  An' tipplèn cups an' emptèn barrels,--
+  Vor meäkèn 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 stunnèn clatters
+  Wi' knives an' forks, an' pleätes an' platters;
+  An' waïters 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-pokèn out their poles,
+  An' pushèn 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 evenèn, zome
+  Went back to drink, an' zome went hwome.
+
+
+
+
+WOODLEY.
+
+
+  Sweet Woodley! oh! how fresh an' gaÿ
+  Thy leänes an' vields be now in Maÿ,
+  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 hangèn 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-blowèn up the brook:
+  The curlèn stream would dreve en down,
+  But plaÿsome aïr 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' windèn 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' maïdens' 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' flappèn 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 plaÿ to entertaïn 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-holdèn out my line beyond
+  The clote-leaves, wi' my withy wand,
+  How I did watch, wi' eager look,
+  My zwimmèn cork, a-zunk or shook
+  By minnows nibblèn at my hook,
+    A-thinkèn I should catch a breäce
+    O' perch, or at the leäst some deäce,
+    A-zwimmèn down vrom gramfer's.
+
+  Then ten good deäries wer a-ved
+  Along that water's windèn 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-comèn 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, villèn to the brim
+    His pon', an' leäpèn, white as snow,
+    Vrom rocks a-glitt'rèn in a bow,
+    An' runnèn 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-stannèn to the raïn an' zun,--
+  An' all's undone that he'd a-done;
+    The brook ha' now noo call to staÿ
+    To vill his pon' or clim' his baÿ,
+    A-runnèn down to gramfer's.
+
+  When woonce, in heavy raïn, the road
+  At Grenley bridge wer overflow'd,
+  Poor Sophy White, the pleäces pride,
+  A-gwaïn 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-zinkèn 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 jaÿ 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 tweilèn in the zummer het,
+  An' when our daily work wer done
+  Did meet to have our evenèn fun:
+  Till up above the zettèn zun
+  The sky wer blushèn 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' mornèn, when the day do break;
+  Zoo we don't grow up peäle an' weak,
+  But we do work wi' health an' strength,
+  Vrom mornèn drough the whole day's length,
+    An' sleep do come wi' the dew.
+
+  An' when, at last, our e'thly light
+  Is jist a-drawèn in to night,
+  We mid be sure that God above,
+  If we be true when he do prove
+  Our stedvast faïth 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 evenèn is a-drawèn in,
+  I'll steal vrom others' naïsy din;
+  An' where the whirlèn 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 evenèns jis' lik' theäse,
+  In happy times I us'd to zee
+  Thy comely sheäpe about the tree,
+  Wi' païl 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' hangèn eärm an' modest look;
+  Or zittèn in some woody nook
+  We lissen'd to the leaves that shook
+  Upon the poplars straïght an' tall,
+  Or rottle o' the watervall,
+    Sweet music in the wind!
+
+  An' when the plaÿvul aïr do vlee,
+  O' moonlight nights, vrom tree to tree,
+  Or whirl upon the sheäkèn grass,
+  Or rottle at my window glass:
+  Do seem,--as I do hear it pass,--
+  As if thy vaïce 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 evenèns, 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-swaÿèn.
+
+  His hat wer broad, his cwoat wer brown,
+  Wi' two long flaps a-hangèn down;
+  An' vrom his knee went down a blue
+  Knit stockèn to his buckled shoe;
+  An' aunt did pull her gown-taïl drough
+  Her pocket-hole, to keep en neat,
+  As she mid walk, or teäke a seat
+    By leafy boughs a-zwaÿèn.
+
+  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 roostèn tree,
+    Wi' leafy boughs a-swaÿèn.
+
+  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-swaÿèn.
+
+  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-chucklèn, went to zee
+  The cows below the sheädy tree,
+    Wi' leafy boughs a-swaÿen.
+
+  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-holdèn up her shoe,
+  To show how wet he wer wi' dew.
+  An' zoo they toddled hwome to rest,
+  Lik' doves a-vleèn to their nest
+    In leafy boughs a-swaÿen.
+
+
+
+
+HAVEN WOONES FORTUNE A-TWOLD.
+
+
+  In leäne the gipsies, as we went
+  A-milkèn, 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 smokèn vire did crack an' bleäze,
+    Their shaggy-cwoated hoss did greäze
+  Among the bushes vurder down.
+
+  An' zoo, when we brought back our païls,
+  The woman met us at the raïls,
+  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 blabbèn 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_earèn _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 maïdens, or as wedded wives;
+  But when we went to bundle on,
+    The gipsies' dog were at the raïls
+    A-lappèn milk vrom ouer païls,--
+  A pretty deäl o' Poll's wer gone.
+
+
+
+
+JEANE'S WEDDEN DAY IN MORNEN.
+
+
+  At last Jeäne come down stairs, a-drest
+  Wi' weddèn knots upon her breast,
+  A-blushèn, while a tear did lie
+  Upon her burnèn cheäk half dry;
+  An' then her Robert, drawèn nigh
+  Wi' tothers, took her han' wi' pride,
+  To meäke her at the church his bride,
+    Her weddèn day in mornèn.
+
+  Wi' litty voot an' beätèn heart
+  She stepp'd up in the new light cart,
+  An' took her bridemaïd 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 weddèn day in mornèn.
+
+  An' aunt an' uncle stood stock-still,
+  An' watch'd em trottèn down the hill;
+  An' when they turn'd off out o' groun'
+  Down into leäne, two tears run down
+  Aunt's feäce; an' uncle, turnèn roun',
+  Sigh'd woonce, an' stump'd off wi' his stick,
+  Because did touch en to the quick
+    To peärt wi' Jeäne thik mornèn.
+
+  "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 burnèn 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 weddèn day in mornèn.
+
+  An' then the naïghbours 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 weddèn day in mornèn.
+
+
+
+
+RIVERS DON'T GI'E OUT.
+
+
+  The brook I left below the rank
+  Ov alders that do sheäde his bank,
+  A-runnèn down to dreve the mill
+  Below the knap, 's a runnèn still;
+  The creepèn 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;
+  Maÿ 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 maïd--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 staÿ,--her rwosy look
+    'S a feädèn 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 hangèn 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-walkèn drough
+    The pleäce the whole day long.
+
+  An' tender thoughts did melt my heart,
+  An' zwells o' viry pride did dart
+  Lik' lightnèn 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 maïdens 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 evenèn 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 hangèn 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-meäkèn haÿ;
+  Where men an' women, in a string,
+  Do ted or turn the grass, an' zing,
+  Wi' cheemèn vaïces, merry zongs,
+  A-tossèn o' their sheenèn prongs
+  Wi' eärms a-zwangèn left an' right,
+  In colour'd gowns an' shirtsleeves white;
+  Or, wider spread, a reäkèn 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 twistèn slooworm crawl.
+
+  'Tis merry where a gaÿ-tongued lot
+  Ov haÿ-meäkers be all a-squot,
+  On lightly-russlèn haÿ, 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-rizèn high
+  Avore the vi'ry western sky,
+  'Tis merry where all han's do goo
+  Athirt the groun', by two an' two,
+  A-reäkèn, over humps an' hollors,
+  The russlèn 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-meäkèn up their tiny pooks.
+  An' zoo 'tis merry out among
+  The vo'k in haÿ-vield all day long.
+
+
+
+
+HAY-CARREN.
+
+
+  'Tis merry ov a zummer's day,
+  When vo'k be out a-haulèn haÿ,
+  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 frothèn hosses snort,
+  A-haulèn 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-pitchèn or a-meäkèn 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 taïl, 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 haÿ, 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' haÿ do vlee.
+  While woone's unlwoadèn, 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-carrèn hay.
+
+
+
+
+[Gothic: Eclogue.]
+
+THE BEST MAN IN THE VIELD.
+
+
+_Sam and Bob._
+
+
+  SAM.
+
+  That's slowish work, Bob. What'st a-been about?
+  Thy pookèn 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-turnèn 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 whoppèn lies.
+  _My_ weäle's the biggest, if do come to size.
+  'Tis jist the seäme whatever bist about;
+  Why, when dost goo a-teddèn 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-reäkèn 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-thinkèn that avore he should a-done en
+  He'd tumble over slap wi' him upon en.
+
+  SAM.
+
+  You yoppèn dog! I warnt I meäde my rick
+  So well's thou meäd'st thy lwoad o' haÿ 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 vallèn,
+  An' trigg'd en up wi' woone o'm's pitchèn 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 lyèn chops! What dosten mind
+  Thy pitchèn to me out in Gully-plot,
+  A-meäkèn o' me waït (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' dissèn 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 braggèn!
+  Why bissen strong enough to car a flagon.
+
+  SAM.
+
+  You grinnèn fool! why I'd zet thee a-blowèn,
+  If thou wast wi' me vor a day a-mowèn.
+  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 bissèn fit to goo a-vield to skimmy,
+  Or mow down docks an' thistles! Why I'll bet
+  A shillèn, 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 mornèn had a-drow'd
+  The grass or russlèn haÿ abrode,
+  The lit'some maïdens an' the chaps,
+  Wi' bits o' nunchèns 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 aïer, vrom the rockèn zedge
+    In brook, did come along the hedge,
+      Where we did keep our flagon.
+
+  There laughèn chaps did try in plaÿ
+  To bury maïdens up in haÿ,
+  As gigglèn maïdens 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-steärèn 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' hangèn head,--
+    O' Zunday evenèns 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 theïr tweils
+  Wi' timely bits an' draps, an' smiles;
+  An' _he_ païd all o'm at week's end,
+  Their money down to goo an' spend.
+
+  In zummer, when week's end come roun'
+  The haÿ-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' maïdens 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 zwarmèn at her door;
+  An' whindlen Ann, that cried wi' fear
+  To hear the thunder when 'twer near,--
+  A zickly maïd, so peäle's the moon,
+  That voun' her zun goo down at noon;
+  An' blushèn 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' païd 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 evenèn 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 zaïd, that she could pluck
+  Avore wild honeyzucks, a-vound
+  In ev'ry hedge ov ev'ry ground.
+
+  Zoo maïd an' woman, bwoy an' man,
+  Went off, while zunzet aïr 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 comèn 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-lookèn yollow,
+    That be a-turn'd to the zun gwaïn down;
+          Drough haÿ in cock, O,
+          We all do vlock, O,
+    Along our road vrom the meäd a-mow'd.
+
+  An' when the last swaÿèn 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-spreadèn wide,
+  How gaÿ 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 gaÿ's the road drough the meäd a-mow'd.
+
+  An' when the visher do come, a-drowèn
+    His flutt'ren line over bleädy zedge,
+  Drough groun's wi' red thissle-heads a-blowèn,
+    An' watchèn 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 drevèn scud that overcast
+  The zummer sky is all a-past,
+  An' softer aïr, a-blowèn drough
+  The quiv'rèn boughs, do sheäke the vew
+  Last raïn drops off the leaves lik' dew;
+    An' peäviers, now a-gettèn dry,
+    Do steam below the zunny sky
+      That's now so vast a-cleärèn.
+
+  The sheädes that wer a-lost below
+  The stormy cloud, ageän do show
+  Their mockèn sheäpes below the light;
+  An' house-walls be a-lookèn 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-clearèn.
+
+  Below the hill's an ash; below
+  The ash, white elder-flow'rs do blow:
+  Below the elder is a bed
+  O' robinhoods o' blushèn red;
+  An' there, wi' nunches all a-spread,
+    The haÿ-meäkers, wi' each a cup
+    O' drink, do smile to zee hold up
+      The raïn, an' sky a-cleärèn.
+
+  'Mid blushèn maïdens, 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-cleärèn.
+
+  '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 faïthful 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-cleärèn.
+
+
+
+
+THE EVENÈN STAR O' ZUMMER.
+
+
+  When vu'st along theäse road vrom mill,
+  I zeed ye hwome all up the hill,
+  The poplar tree, so straïght an' tall,
+  Did rustle by the watervall;
+  An' in the leäze the cows wer all
+    A-lyèn down to teäke their rest
+    An' slowly zunk towárd the west
+      The evenèn star o' zummer.
+
+  In parrock there the haÿ 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-watchèn in the West
+    Woone brighter star than all the rest,--
+      The evenèn 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 smilèn Jeäne, my zweet vu'st love,
+      The evenèn star o' zummer.
+
+  How sweet's the mornèn fresh an' new,
+  Wi' sparklèn brooks an' glitt'rèn dew;
+  How sweet's the noon wi' sheädes a-drow'd
+  Upon the groun' but leätely mow'd,
+  An' bloomèn flowers all abrode;
+    But sweeter still, as I do clim',
+    Theäse woody hill in evenèn dim
+      'S the evenèn star o' zummer.
+
+
+
+
+THE CLOTE.
+
+_(Water-lily.)_
+
+
+  O zummer clote! when the brook's a-glidèn
+    So slow an' smooth down his zedgy bed,
+  Upon thy broad leaves so seäfe a-ridèn
+    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-leänèn lowly
+    Above the water thy leaves do hide;
+  The bendèn bulrush, a-swaÿèn 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-drinkèn flow'r's a-blowèn,
+    The burnèn zummer's a-zettèn in;
+  The time o' greenness, the time o' mowèn,
+    When in the haÿ-vield, wi' zunburnt skin,
+        The vo'k do drink, O,
+        Upon the brink, O,
+  Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!
+
+  Wi' eärms a-spreadèn, an' cheäks a-blowèn,
+    How proud wer I when I vu'st could zwim
+  Athirt the pleäce where thou bist a-growèn,
+    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-windèn,
+    Ov all the meäds by a river's brim,
+  There's nwone so feäir o' my own heart's vindèn,
+    As where the maïdens 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 hangèn, to a patch
+  O' meäd between a hedge an' rank
+  Ov elems, an' a river bank.
+  Where yollow clotes, in spreadèn beds
+  O' floatèn leaves, do lift their heads
+  By bendèn bulrushes an' zedge
+  A-swaÿèn 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 slantèn evenèn light;
+  An' in the meäple boughs, along
+  The hedge, do ring the blackbird's zong;
+  Or in the day, a-vleèn 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-hangèn overhead,
+  Do hide a trinklèn 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 evenèn, 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-runnèn, 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' runnèn, lik' a cat I vled,
+  An' out o' window put my head
+      To zee if he wer gone.
+
+  An' there he wer, a-prowlèn 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, reachèn up between
+  A thousan' vields o' zummer green,
+  Where elems' lofty heads do drow
+  Their sheädes vor haÿ-meakers below,
+  An' wild hedge-flow'rs do charm the souls
+  O' maïdens in their evenèn 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 gaÿ frock o' dazzlèn white;
+
+  Oh! then there's nothèn that's 'ithout
+  Thy hills that I do ho about,--
+  Noo bigger pleäce, noo gaÿer town,
+  Beyond thy sweet bells' dyèn soun',
+  As they do ring, or strike the hour,
+  At evenèn 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-thatchèn 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 raïls,
+  Or switch em wi' their heäiry taïls.
+
+  An' as the mornèn zun rose high
+  Above my mossy roof clwose by,
+  The blue smoke curreled up between
+  The lofty trees o' feädèn green:
+  A zight that's touchèn when do show
+  A busy wife is down below,
+  A-workèn 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 faïthvul hands when I be dead,
+  An' noo good men in ouer land
+  Think lightly o' the weddèn band.
+  True happiness do bide alwone
+  Wi' them that ha' their own he'th-stwone
+  To gather wi' their childern roun',
+  A-smilèn at the worold's frown.
+
+  My bwoys, that brought me thatch an' spars,
+  Wer down a-taïtèn on the bars,
+  Or zot a-cuttèn wi' a knife,
+  Dry eltrot-roots to meäke a fife;
+  Or drevèn woone another round
+  The rick upon the grassy ground.
+  An', as the aïer vrom the west
+  Did fan my burnèn feäce an' breast,
+  An' hoppèn birds, wi' twitt'rèn beaks,
+  Did show their sheenèn 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 eächèn heads,
+  O' lièn down in silken beds?
+  Or what's a coach, if woone do pine
+  To zee woone's naïghbour's twice so fine?
+  Contentment is a constant feäst,
+  He's richest that do want the leäst.
+
+
+
+
+BEES A-ZWARMEN.
+
+
+  Avore we went a-milkèn, vive
+  Or six o's here wer all alive
+  A-teäkèn bees that zwarm'd vrom hive;
+    An' we'd sich work to catch
+  The hummèn 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 fryèn-pan
+    Wi' thick an' thumpèn blows;
+  An' Tom went on, a-carrèn roun'
+  A bee-pot up upon his crown,
+  Wi' all his edge a-reachèn 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-vleèn on,
+  Got all roun' Liz, an' meäde her hop
+  An' scream, a-twirlèn 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 readèn ov a stwone
+  In Grenley church-yard all alwone,
+  A little maïd 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 zaïd,
+    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 EVENÈN DANCE.
+
+
+  Come out to the parrock, come out to the tree,
+  The maïdens an' chaps be a-waïtèn vor thee;
+  There's Jim wi' his fiddle to plaÿ 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 hangèn 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-waggèn his prongs.
+
+  Zoo come to the parrock, come out to the tree,
+  The maïdens an' chaps be a-waïtèn vor thee;
+  There's Jim wi' his fiddle to plaÿ 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 lightnèn when do thunder;
+  An' zome do say sich rings as thík ring there is,
+  Do grow in dancèn-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 plaÿ 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' snaïls, 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 plaïn 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 aïght (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-comèn 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 awaÿ 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 mornèn 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 utterèn 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-stannèn 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 èn)
+  Bolt out o' door, an' down the road lik' lightenèn.
+
+
+
+
+FALL.
+
+
+
+
+CORN A-TURNEN YOLLOW.
+
+
+  The windless copse ha' sheädy boughs,
+    Wi' blackbirds' evenèn whistles;
+  The hills ha' sheep upon their brows,
+    The zummerleäze ha' thistles:
+  The meäds be gaÿ in grassy Maÿ,
+    But, oh! vrom hill to hollow,
+  Let me look down upon a groun'
+    O' corn a-turnèn 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-turnèn 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 Zidelèn 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-haulèn o' the corn.
+
+  The hosses, wi' the het an' lwoad,
+    Did froth, an' zwang vrom zide to zide,
+  A-gwaïn along the dousty road,
+    An' seem'd as if they would a-died.
+  An' wi' my collar all undone,
+  An' neck a-burnèn wi' the zun,
+  I got, wi' work, an' doust, an' het,
+  So dry at last, I coulden spet,
+        A-haulèn o' the corn.
+
+  At uncle's orcha'd, gwaïn 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 squaïl'd her, though, an' meäde her run;
+  An' zoo she gie'd me, vor a treat,
+  A lot o' stubberds vor to eat.
+        A-haulèn 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' noddèn poppies bright an' red,
+  As we wer catchèn vrom our laps,
+  Below a woak, our bits an' draps,
+        A-haulèn o' the corn.
+
+
+
+
+HARVEST HWOME.
+
+_The vu'st peärt. The Supper._
+
+
+  Since we wer striplèns naïghbour 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 jumpèn mad
+      Wi' feästèn an' wi' fun.
+
+  At uncle's, I do mind, woone year,
+  I zeed a vill o' hearty cheer;
+  Fat beef an' puddèn, 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 rwoastèn pig;
+  Wi' beäns an' teäties vull a zack,
+  An' cabbage that would meäke a stack,
+  An' puddèns 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-frothèn 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-lookèn 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 rollèn pin,
+      An' beät the fryèn pan.
+  An' tothers, dancèn to the soun',
+  Went in an' out, an' droo an' roun',
+  An' kick'd, an' beät the tuèn down,
+      A-laughèn, maïd an' man.
+
+  An' then a maïd, 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-plaÿèn blindman's buff,
+  An' sard the maïdens 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' flappèn wing,
+      Stratch'd out his neck an' crow'd.
+
+
+
+
+A ZONG OV HARVEST HWOME.
+
+
+  The ground is clear. There's nar a ear
+    O' stannèn corn a-left out now,
+  Vor win' to blow or raïn 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 nothèn 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'rèn 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 paÿ the malter's païns;
+  An' mid noo hurt bevall the wort,
+    A-bweilèn vrom the brewer's graïns.
+    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' jaÿ the beäker paÿ,
+    As he do hear his vier roar,
+  Or nimbly catch his hot white batch,
+    A-reekèn 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' jaÿ o' heart mid shooters start
+    The whirrèn 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,
+    Rejaïcèn 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 jaïl
+  A-hangèn up upon a naïl,
+  Ageän the elem tree, avore
+  The house, jist over-right the door,
+  An' twitted vo'k a-passèn by
+  A-most so plaïn as you or I;
+  Vor hardly any day did pass
+  'Ithout Tom's teachèn 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-whisslèn 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 meänèn 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-lookèn all so red an' slim,
+  An' slinkèn 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-smilèn 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 gaÿest rwose a-tied
+  An' trimm'd upon the house's zide.
+  The rwose mid be the maïdens' 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 creepèn 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 raïn do wet.
+    An' evenèn aïr do bring along
+    The merry deäiry-maïden's zong,
+      The zong of free light hearts, John.
+
+  Oh! why do vo'k so often chaïn
+  Their pinèn minds vor love o' gaïn,
+  An' gi'e their innocence to rise
+  A little in the worold's eyes?
+  If pride could lift us to the skies,
+    What man do value God do slight,
+    An' all is nothèn in his zight
+      'Ithout an honest heart, John.
+
+  An ugly feäce can't bribe the brooks
+  To show it back young han'some looks,
+  Nor crooked vo'k intice the light
+  To cast their zummer sheädes upright:
+  Noo goold can blind our Meäker's zight.
+    An' what's the odds what cloth do hide
+    The bosom that do hold inside
+      A free an' honest heart, John?
+
+
+
+
+THE WELSHNUT TREE.
+
+
+  When in the evenèn the zun's a-zinkèn,
+    A drowèn sheädes vrom the yollow west,
+  An' mother, weary, 's a-zot a thinkèn,
+    Wi' vwolded eärms by the vire at rest,
+          Then we do zwarm, O,
+          Wi' such a charm, O,
+    So vull o' glee by the welshnut tree.
+
+  A-leävèn father in-doors, a-leinèn'
+    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 plaÿ 'thread the woman's needle.'
+    An' slap the maïdens a-dartèn 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-stealèn by,
+  Where there's a dark cunnèn 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-móst to vlee to the welshnut tree.
+
+  An' when, at last, at the drashel, mother
+    Do call us, smilèn, 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-reävèn 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-reävèn 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-zwellèn 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-reävèn 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-thinkèn 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 laggèn moon mid faïl 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 evenèn sheädes that trees cast down
+  Vrom lofty stems athirt the groun';
+  An' in at house the mug went roun',
+    While ev'ry merry man praïs'd up
+    The pretty maïd that vill'd his cup,
+      The maïd 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 blushèn look,
+    Car on her païl, 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 growèn pride
+    Should ever meäke me cast azide
+      The maïd 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 evenèn, 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-risèn vrom the brooks an' bogs,
+  An' when in barkens yoppèn dogs
+    Do bark at vo'k a-comèn near,
+    Or growl a-lis'enèn 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-gwaïn abrode:
+  When vu'st her litty veet do tread
+  The eärly Maÿ'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.
+
+
+
+
+MORNÈN.
+
+
+  When vu'st the breakèn day is red,
+    An' grass is dewy wet,
+  An' roun' the blackberry's a-spread
+    The spider's gliss'nèn 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 warnèn,
+        An' light or dark,
+        So brisk's a lark,
+    I'm up at break o' mornèn.
+
+  Avore the maïden's sleep's a-broke
+    By window-strikèn zun,
+  Avore the busy wife's vu'st smoke
+    Do curl above the tun,
+  My day's begun. An' when the zun
+    'S a-zinkèn in the west,
+  The work the mornèn brought's a-done,
+    An' I do goo to rest,
+  Till the cock do gi'e me warnèn;
+        An' light or dark,
+        So brisk's a lark,
+    I'm up ageän nex' mornèn.
+
+  We can't keep back the daily zun,
+    The wind is never still,
+  An' never ha' the streams a-done
+    A-runnèn 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 waït vor man,
+  As the cock do gi'e me warnèn;
+        When, light or dark,
+        So brisk's a lark,
+    I'm up so rathe in mornèn.
+
+  We've leäzes where the aïr do blow,
+    An' meäds wi' deäiry cows,
+  An' copse wi' lewth an' sheäde below
+    The overhangèn boughs.
+ An' when the zun, noo time can tire,
+    'S a-quench'd below the west,
+  Then we've, avore the bleäzèn vire,
+    A settle vor to rest,--
+  To be up ageän nex' mornèn
+        So brisk's a lark,
+        When, light or dark,
+    The cock do gi'e us warnèn.
+
+
+
+
+OUT A-NUTTÈN.
+
+
+  Last week, when we'd a haul'd the crops,
+  We went a-nuttèn out in copse,
+  Wi' nuttèn-bags to bring hwome vull,
+  An' beaky nuttèn-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-gwaïn a-nuttèn.
+
+  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 nuttèn.
+
+  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 evenèn light did strik'
+  Drough yollow leaves, that still wer thick
+      In time o' nuttèn,
+
+  An' twold ov all the luck we had
+  Among the bushes, good an' bad!
+  Till all the maïdens 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-nuttèn.
+
+
+
+
+TEAKEN IN APPLES.
+
+
+  We took the apples in last week,
+  An' got, by night, zome eächèn backs
+  A-stoopèn 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' loppèn Jim,
+  An' little Dick, an' Fan, an' I.
+
+  An' there the lwoaded tree bent low,
+  Behung wi' apples green an' red;
+  An' springèn grass could hardly grow,
+  Drough windvalls down below his head.
+  An' when the maïdens come in roun'
+  The heavy boughs to vill their laps,
+  We slily shook the apples down
+  Lik' haïl, an' gi'ed their backs some raps.
+
+  An' zome big apple, Jimmy flung
+  To squaïl me, gi'ed me sich a crack;
+  But very shortly his ear rung,
+  Wi' woone I zent to paÿ en back.
+  An' after we'd a-had our squaïls,
+  Poor Tom, a-jumpèn in a bag,
+  Wer pinch'd by all the maïden's naïls,
+  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-straïght, 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 sparklèn zun is down:
+  The zummer's gone, an' days so feäir
+  As theäse be now a-gettèn 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 plaÿsome win's where spring did spread
+  The blossoms that the zummer shed;
+  An' near blue sloos an' conkers red
+    The evenèn zun, a zettèn soon,
+    Do leäve a-quiv'rèn to the moon,
+      The meäple leaves so yollow.
+
+  Zoo come along, an' let's injaÿ
+  The last fine weather while do staÿ;
+  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-stoopèn,
+  An' in the stubble, all vorlorn,
+    Noo poppies be a-droopèn;
+  When theäse young harvest-moon do weäne,
+    That now've his horns so thin, O,
+  We'll leäve off walkèn in the leäne,
+    While night's a zettèn in, O.
+
+  When zummer doust is all a-laid
+    Below our litty shoes, O;
+  When all the raïn-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 walkèn in the road,
+    When night's a-zettèn in, O.
+
+  But now, while barley by the road
+    Do hang upon the bough, O,
+  A-pull'd by branches off the lwoad
+    A-ridèn 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-zettèn in, O.
+
+  While down at vword the brook so small,
+    That leätely wer so high, O,
+  Wi' little tinklèn sounds do vall
+    In roun' the stwones half dry, O;
+  While twilight ha' sich aïr in store,
+    To cool our zunburnt skin, O,
+  We'll have a ramble out o' door,
+    When night's a-zettèn 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'rèn bennets, beäre to all
+  The drevèn winds o' dark'nèn fall.
+  An' zoo in tryèn 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-dancèn roun' the woaken tree.
+
+  True love's the ivy that do twine
+  Unwith'rèn roun' his mossy rine,
+  When winter's zickly zun do sheen
+  Upon its leaves o' glossy green,
+  So patiently a-holdèn vast
+  Till storms an' cwold be all a-past,
+  An' only livèn 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-struttèn in among the rows
+  O' tilted stannèns an' o' shows,
+  An' girt long booths wi' little bars
+  Chock-vull o' barrels, mugs, an' jars,
+  An' meat a-cookèn 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' bawlèn 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' païd the money vor the ceäkes,
+  But wer so lwoth to put it down
+  As if a penny wer a poun'.
+  Then up come zidelèn Sammy Heäre,
+  That's fond o' Poll, an' she can't bear,
+  A-holdèn out his girt scram vist,
+  An' ax'd her, wi' a grin an' twist,
+  To have zome nuts; an' she, to hide
+  Her laughèn, 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-ridèn round
+  Drough Okford, who d'ye think we vound
+  But Sam ageän, a-gwäin vrom feäir
+  Astride his broken-winded meäre.
+  An' zoo, a-hettèn her, he tried
+  To keep up clwose by ouer zide:
+  But when we come to Haÿward-brudge,
+  Our Poll gi'ed Dick a meänèn 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-kickèn 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-keepèn up the tide,
+  Among the stan'ens, zide by zide;
+  An' thik day twel'month, never faïlèn,
+  She gi'ed me at the chancel raïlèn
+  A heart--though I do sound her praise--
+  As true as ever beät in staÿs.
+  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 plaÿ'd
+  In fun, to outwit chap or maïd.
+  An' out avore the bleäzèn he'th,
+  Our naïsy tongues, in winter me'th,
+  'V a-shook the warmèn-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, arisèn up so high
+  'S the tun, did snap, an' roar, an' ply,
+    Lik' vier in an' oven.
+
+  An' zome wi' hissèn squibs did run,
+  To paÿ off zome what they'd a-done,
+  An' let em off so loud's a gun
+    Ageän their smokèn 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-taïl gone,
+  An' tother jist a-hangèn 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 gwaïn to market, I do zee.
+  Why, you be quite a-lwoaded wi' your geese.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  Ees, Thomas, ees.
+  Why, I'm a-gettèn rid ov ev'ry goose
+  An' goslèn 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 paÿ twenty shillèns 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 gwaïn 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 evenèn, 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' nothèn else to do,
+  Why I can teäke my hook an' gloves, an' goo
+  To cut a lot o' vuzz and briars
+  Vor hetèn ovens, or vor lightèn 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' lettèn 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 gwaïn 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-fearèn 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-gwaïn to leäve his farm?
+  He han't a-got noo young woones vor to zwarm.
+  Poor over-reachèn 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'rèn men;
+  An' many leäb'rèn 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-drashèn 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' waggèn taïls,
+  Do hop upon the icy raïls,
+  An' rime do whiten all the tops
+  O' bush an' tree in hedge an' copse,
+    In wind's a-cuttèn keen.
+
+  Come, maïdens, come: the groun's a-vroze
+  Too hard to-night to spweil your clothes.
+  You got noo pools to waddle drough,
+  Nor clay a-pullèn 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-cuttèn keen.
+
+  Vor young men's hearts an' maïden'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'rèn 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-cuttèn 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 friskèn chaps did skip about,
+  An' cou'se the maïdens in an' out,
+  A-meäkèn such a randy-rout,
+    You coulden hear a drum.
+
+  An' Tom, a-springèn 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-hoppèn 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-jumpèn in a zack.
+
+  An' in a twinklèn tother chaps
+  Jist hung en to a crook wi' straps,
+  An' meäde en bear the maïdens' slaps,
+    An' prickens wi' a pin.
+  An' Jim, a-catchèn 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-keepèn 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 maïdens 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-meäkèn fun!
+  What plaÿsome anticks zome [=o]'s done!
+    An' how, a-reelèn roun' an' roun',
+    We beät the merry tuèn down,
+      While music wer a-soundèn!
+
+  The maïdens' eyes o' black an' blue
+  Did glisten lik' the mornèn dew;
+  An' while the cider-mug did stand
+  A-hissèn by the bleäzèn brand,
+  An' uncle's pipe wer in his hand,
+    How little he or we did think
+    How peäle the zettèn stars did blink
+      While music wer a-soundèn.
+
+  An' Fanny's last young _teen_ begun,
+  Poor maïd, wi' thik day's risèn 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-soundèn.
+
+  An' then we did all kinds o' tricks
+  Wi' han'kerchiefs, an' strings, an' sticks:
+  An' woone did try to overmatch
+  Another wi' zome cunnèn catch,
+  While tothers slyly tried to hatch
+    Zome geäme; but yet, by chap an' maïd.
+    The dancèn wer the mwost injaÿ'd,
+      While music wer a-soundèn.
+
+  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 maïdens screamèn out,
+    A-thinkèn, wi' his strides an' stamps,
+    He'd squot their veet wi' his girt clamps,
+      While music wer a-soundèn.
+
+  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-crièn "Let me goo:"
+    While all ov us did laugh so loud,
+    We drown'd the tuèn o' the croud,
+      While music wer a-soundèn.
+
+  A-comèn out o' passage, Nan,
+  Wi' pipes an' cider in her han',
+  An' watchèn 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-soundèn.
+
+
+
+
+WHAT DICK AN' I DID.
+
+
+  Last week the Browns ax'd nearly all
+    The naïghbours 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, lookèn roun', Dick whisper'd "How
+    Is theäse job to be done, min:
+  Why we do want a faggot now,
+    Vor stoppèn up the tun, min."
+
+  "Stan' still," I answer'd; "I'll teäke ceäre
+    O' that: why dussen zee
+  The little grindèn 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 maïdens 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-runnèn 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 grindèn-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-chucklèn 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 weddèn shoes,
+  An' her flat spreadèn 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 stockèns o' gramfer's a-knit wì' 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 weddèn shoes.
+
+  She could tell us such teäles about heavy snows,
+  An' o' raïns 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 dancèn, 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 weddèn 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-drevèn raïn an' mist,
+  Do now drow sheädes out, long an' still;
+  But roarèn watervals do vill
+  Their whirlèn pools below the hill,
+    Where, wi' her païl upon the stile,
+    A-gwaïn a-milkèn Jeäne do smile
+      To zunsheen o' the winter.
+
+  The birds do sheäke, wi' plaÿsome skips,
+  The raïn-drops off the bushes' tips,
+  A-chirripèn wi' merry sound;
+  While over all the grassy ground
+  The wind's a-whirlèn 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-hangèn low
+  Her head, 's a-walkèn 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 weepèn leädy.
+
+  The whirlèn wind an' whis'lèn squall
+  Do sheäke the ivy by the wall,
+  An' meäke the plyèn tree-tops rock,
+  But never ruffle her white frock;
+  An' slammèn door an' rattlèn 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 weepèn leädy:
+
+  That she herzelf should leäve his door,
+  To darken it ageän noo mwore;
+  Or that her little plaÿsome chile,
+  A-zent away a thousand mile,
+  Should never meet her eyes to smile
+    An' plaÿ 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 weepèn leädy.
+
+  An' she do keep a-comèn 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 vorgivèn kiss. Zoo blest
+    Be they that can but live in love,
+    An' vind a pleäce o' rest above
+      Unlik' the weepèn 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 maïd 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' daïly health, an' daïly 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 windèn brook,
+  That sprung below the vu'st dark sky
+  That raïn'd, to run till seas be dry;
+  An' hills a-stannèn on while all
+  The works o' man do rise an' vall;
+  An' trees the toddlèn 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' taïnt our thought?
+  Clear brook! thy water coulden bring
+  Such venom vrom thy rocky spring;
+  Nor could it come in zummer blights,
+  Or reävèn 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 smilèn feäce;
+  An' there the steätely trees do grow,
+  A-rockèn as the win' do blow,
+  While she do sweetly sleep below,
+    In the stillness o' the night.
+
+  An' there, at evenèn, I do goo
+    A-hoppèn over geätes an' bars,
+    By twinklèn 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 naïghbours' 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! naïghbour 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 straïght 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-smackèn 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 gaïly 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 haÿ-meäkers do ride
+    Vrom vield in zummer wi' their prongs,
+  In my blue waggon, zide by zide
+    Upon the reäves, a-zingèn zongs.
+
+  An' when the vrost do catch the stream,
+    An' oves wi' icicles be hung,
+  My pantèn hosses' breath do steam
+    In white-grass'd vields, a-haulèn 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 nothèn 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-smackèn 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 naïghbours 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 maïdens squall,
+  A catchèn 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 uppèn-stock,
+  An' hung a bough o' misseltoo,
+  An' ax'd a merry friend or two,
+    To keepèn 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-comèn 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 stannèn in the cwold,
+    A keepèn up o' Chris'mas.
+
+  We plaÿ'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 zittèn near,
+  A-chattèn 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 keepèn up o' Chris'mas.
+
+
+
+
+ZITTEN OUT THE WOLD YEAR.
+
+
+  Why, raïn 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 evenèn, 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 gigglèn little slut,
+        I hope will shoot
+        Another voot
+    The year that's comèn 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,
+  Gwaïn 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-strikèn 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 woakèn bwoard,
+  As good as thik that took my cup
+  An' trencher all my growèn up.
+  Ah! I do mind en in the hall,
+  A-reachèn all along the wall,
+  Wi' us at father's end, while tother
+  Did teäke the maïdens wi' their mother;
+  An' while the risèn steam did spread
+  In curlèn clouds up over head,
+  Our mouths did wag, an' tongues did run,
+  To meäke the maïdens 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' vallèn 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 naïls, 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-sleepèn 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 ruffèn
+  Their young vrom the storm,
+  An' zome wi' nest-hoodèns 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-tweilèn 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' naï'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 darlèn, an' life, an' her hope, an' her all.
+
+  But she vound in the evenèn 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 aïlèn mid be;
+  An' she thought o'en last in her praÿers 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-nestlèn the poor little bwoy,
+  Till his struggles grew weak, an' his cries died awoy.
+
+  An' the moon wer a-sheenèn 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 païn a-zet free;
+  Vor his soul, we do know, is to heaven a-vled,
+  Where noo païn 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-comèn 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-colepecksèn 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-burnèn,
+  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-doèn 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 mornèn; 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 hedgèn 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' trenchèn 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 trenchèn by the tut.
+
+  CHILD.
+
+  An' nex' week, father, I'm a-gwaïn to goo
+  A-pickèn stwones, d'ye know, vor Farmer True.
+
+  WIFE.
+
+  An' little Jack, you know, 's a-gwaïn to eärn
+  A penny too, a-keepèn 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-baggèn.
+  I be too tired now to-night, I'm sure,
+  To zet a-doèn 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 evenèn; 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-lightèn till the cock did crow;
+  But never met wi' nothèn 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 scuffèns an' such jumpèns,
+  Such ugly naïses an' such rottlèn thumpèns.
+
+  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-comèn zometimes lik' a slinkèn hound,
+  Or rollèn lik' a vleece along the ground.
+  An' woonce, when gramfer wi' his wold grey meäre
+  Wer ridèn 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 naïghbour's house to spend
+  A merry hour, an' mid a-took a cup
+  Or two o' eäle a-keepèn 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' turnèn out o' door
+  'Twer mornèn, 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-stannèn down in thik there hollor.
+  Lo'k there, he zaïd, there's zome girt dog a-prowlèn:
+  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-howlèn.
+  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 peelèn off all round.
+  'Twer near a month avore he got it well.
+
+  JEM.
+
+  That wer vor hettèn [=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' sparklèn light.
+
+  My kinsvo'k would faïn zee me teäke vor my meäte
+  A maïd that ha' wealth, but a maïd 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' sparklèn light.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAID VOR MY BRIDE.
+
+
+  Ah! don't tell o' maïdens! the woone vor my bride
+  Is little lik' too many maïdens bezide,--
+  Not brantèn, nor spitevul, nor wild; she've a mind
+  To think o' what's right, an' a heart to be kind.
+
+  She's straïght 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 becomèn an' plaïn,
+  An' cleän as a blossom undimm'd by a staïn;
+  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-beginnèn 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-zittèn; 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' maïden's! the woone vor my bride
+  Is but little lik' too many maïdens bezide,--
+  Not brantèn, 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-runnèn down
+  The pretty maïden's o' the town,
+    Nor wishèn 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 maïd 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'lèn wife,
+    An' childern well look'd after,
+  The maïd 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 wï' 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 lookèn [=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' livèn 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' maïdens 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' païd 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 taïl reach'd down
+      A-bobbèn nearly to the groun'.
+      The cwoat that uncle mwostly wore
+      Wer long behind an' straïght 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 haÿ, 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 evenèn wi' his wife or friend;
+      An' wi' his lags out-stratch'd vor rest,
+      An' woone hand in his wes'coat breast,
+      While burnèn 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-bumpèn by his zide
+      Wi' things a-bought--but not vor trust,
+      Vor what he had he païd 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 joggèn 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, herrèn ribs,
+      Jump'd out an' ax'd en vor his dibs;
+      But he soon gi'ed en such a mawlèn,
+      That there he left en down a-sprawlèn,
+          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 evenèn, 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 maïdens, 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 naïghbours come
+  Out drough the churchyard, vlockèn 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, chuckèn her below
+  Her chin, do tell her she do grow,
+    At church o' happy Zundays.
+
+  Zoo while our blood do run in vaïns
+  O' livèn souls in theäsum plaïns,
+  Mid happy housen smoky round
+  The church an' holy bit o' ground;
+  An' while their weddèn 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' spreädèn boughs,
+  A-rubb'd by all the pigs an' cows.
+  An' I've a-clom his head an' zides,
+  A-riggèn up or jumpèn down
+  A-plaÿèn, 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' taïl wer pinks,
+  A-païnted 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' champèn _Vi'let_, sprack an' light,
+  That foam'd an' pull'd wi' all her might:
+  An' _Whitevoot_, leäzy in the treäce,
+  Wi' cunnèn looks an' show-white feäce;
+  Bezides a baÿ woone, short-taïl _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 raïls.
+  An' bayèns wi' their bushy taïls;
+  An' loose-ear'd barley, hangèn down
+  Outzide the wheels a'móst to groun',
+  An' lwoads o' haÿ so sweet an' dry,
+  A-builded straïght, an' long, an' high;
+  An' haÿ-meäkers, a-zittèn roun'
+  The reäves, a-ridèn hwome vrom groun',
+  When Jim gi'ed Jenny's lips a-smack,
+  An' jealous Dicky whipp'd his back,
+  An' maïdens 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 DRÈVEN 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-limpèn, o'er the ground.
+
+  There we heärd the whickr'èn meäre
+  Wi' her vaïce a-quiv'rèn high;
+  Where the cow did loudly bleäre
+  By the donkey's vallèn cry.
+  While a-stoopèn 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 haÿward 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 gapèn bills a scream,
+  An' the cattle then avound,
+  Without right o' greäzen there,
+  Went to bleäre braÿ 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 runnèn 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-skippèn 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 plaÿ'd, or when they foüght,
+    Di'st stand a-lookèn 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 haÿward come, wi' all his men,
+  To drève 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 gaÿ an' young,
+    A vaïce 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 plaÿ, or stroll,
+    An' talk wi' vaïces that be still;
+  'Tis touchèn 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 maïden hwome.
+  But Jenny's merry tongue wer dum';
+    An' round her comely neck she wore
+    A murnèn 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 maïden frocks,
+  The spike, to put 'ithin her box,
+  Wi' columbines an' hollyhocks;
+    The jilliflow'r an' noddèn pink,
+    An' rwose that touch'd her soul to think
+      Ov woone that deck'd her breast.
+
+  Vor at her weddèn, just avore
+  Her maïden hand had yet a-wore
+  A wife's goold ring, wi' hangèn head
+  She walk'd along thik flower-bed,
+  Where stocks did grow, a-staïned 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 bloomèn 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 milkèn us'd to stan'
+  A-veedèn o' her, vrom her han',
+    Wi' grass or haÿ; an' she know'd Ann,
+    An' in the evenèn she did come
+    The vu'st, a-beätèn 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 taïl,
+    An' didden start nor kick the païl,
+      When Nanny zot to milk her.
+
+  But losses zoon begun to vall
+  On Nanny's fàther, that wi' all
+  His tweil he voun', wi' breakèn 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 vaïce 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 zingèn a zong,
+          Or a-whislèn 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 lightnèn 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-zingèn a zong,
+          Or a-whislèn among
+  The sheep, the poor shep'erd do bide all day long.
+
+  When the shearèn's a-come, an' the shearers do pull
+    In the sheep, hangèn back a-gwaïn in,
+  Wi' their roun' zides a-heavèn in under their wool,
+    To come out all a-clipp'd to the skin;
+    When the feästèn, an' zingèn, 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 maïden'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 maïd's vu'st love is always strong;
+  An' if do faïl, 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 jumpèn off the stile;
+    Thy life's avore thee vor a while,
+  But thou wilt turn thy mind in time,
+  An' zee the deèd as 'tis,--a crime,
+      An' hope a-left behind thee.
+
+  Zoo never win a maïden's heart,
+    But her's that is to be thy bride,
+  An' plaÿ 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 sparklèn 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 païns,
+  Could hardly wag wi' bars an' chaïns;
+  An' yet he never used to staÿ
+  O' Zaturdays, to teäke his paÿ.
+
+  Woone day the men wer out o' heart,
+  To have a beam a-cut too short;
+  An' in the evenèn, 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-lullèn birds, an' shuttèn up
+  The deäisy an' the butter cup,
+  They went to lay their heavy heads
+  An' weary bwones upon their beds.
+
+  An' when the dewy mornèn 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 helpèn han',
+  Or whether all o't wer a dream,
+  They didden deäre to cut the beam.
+
+
+
+
+THE VAÏCES THAT BE GONE.
+
+
+  When evenèn sheädes o' trees do hide
+  A body by the hedge's zide,
+  An' twitt'rèn birds, wi' plaÿsome flight,
+  Do vlee to roost at comèn 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 vaïces 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 skippèns to an' fro
+    Bezide the banks, where Jim did zit
+    A-plaÿèn o' the clarinit
+      To vaïces that be gone.
+
+  How mother, when we us'd to stun
+  Her head wi' all our naïsy 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 vaïces that be gone.
+
+  Vor all the maïdens 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 evenèn-tide,
+    I still do saunter out, wi' tears,
+    Down drough the orcha'd, where my ears
+      Do miss the vaïces gone.
+
+
+
+
+POLL.
+
+
+  When out below the trees, that drow'd
+  Their scraggy lim's athirt the road,
+  While evenèn zuns, a'móst a-zet,
+  Gi'ed goolden light, but little het,
+  The merry chaps an' maïdens 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' snappèn tongs, or blind-man's buff,
+  O' winter nights, an' went an' stood
+  Avore the vire o' bleäzen wood,
+  Though there wer maïdens kind an' good,
+    Though there wer maïdens 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' skippèn tott'rèn 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 vaïn 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' maïdens, to their cost,
+      The maïd they cluster'd round.
+
+
+
+
+LOOKS A-KNOW'D AVORE.
+
+
+  While zome, a-gwaïn 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 rejaïce
+    In zome wold naïghbour's welcome vaïce,
+      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' jaÿ 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 chattèn, laughèn, 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 bubblèn shoals!
+  An' oh! that zome o' them young souls,
+    That we, in jaÿ, did plaÿ 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 creepèn years, wi' with'rèn blights,
+    'V a-took off them that wer so dear,
+    How touchèn 'tis if we do hear
+      The tuèns o' the dead, John.
+
+  When I, a-stannèn in the lew
+  O' trees a storm's a-beätèn drough,
+  Do zee the slantèn 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 gwaïn along
+  The brook, I heärd the milk-maïd's zong
+  A-ringèn out so clear an' shrill
+  Along the meäds an' roun' the hill.
+  I catch'd the tuèn, an' stood still
+    To hear 't; 'twer woone that Jeäne did zing
+    A-vield a-milkèn 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 maïden'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' runnèn 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 maïden 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 maïd 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 touchèn 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 blushèn 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-chattèn 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' vallèn 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 staïd,
+  But kind an' merry, poor wold maïd!
+  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-steppèn out
+  Such strides, an' fling the païls 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-teäkèn flight
+    Wi' tothers, cluckèn 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 STWONÈN PWORCH.
+
+
+  A new house! Ees, indeed! a small
+  Straïght, upstart thing, that, after all,
+  Do teäke in only half the groun'
+  The wold woone did avore 'twer down;
+  Wi' little windows straïght an' flat,
+  Not big enough to zun a-cat,
+  An' dealèn 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 stwonèn pworch avore
+  The naïl-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 jaÿ than thik wold pworch bestow'd!
+  For there, when yollow evenèn 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' meltèn smoke did roll
+  Above his bendèn pipe's white bowl,
+  While he did chat, or, zittèn dumb,
+  Injaÿ his thoughts as they did come.
+
+  An' Jimmy, wi' his crowd below
+  His chin, did dreve his nimble bow
+  In tuèns vor to meäke us spring
+  A-reelèn, or in zongs to zing,
+  An' there, between the dark an' light,
+  Zot Poll by Willy's zide at night
+  A-whisp'rèn, while her eyes did zwim
+  In jaÿ 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 stwonèn pworch instead [=o]'t all.
+
+
+
+
+FARMER'S SONS.
+
+
+  Ov all the chaps a-burnt so brown
+    By zunny hills an' hollors,
+  Ov all the whindlèn 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 waïght up that would squot
+    A weakly fellow flat.
+  He wont gi'e up when things don't faÿ,
+    But turn em into fun, min;
+  An' what's hard work to zome, is plaÿ
+    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 maïd
+    Would never goo a nun, min;
+  She'd have noo call to be afraïd
+    Bezide a farmer's son, min.
+
+  He'll turn a vurrow, drough his langth,
+    So straïght 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 maïden's be but dead alive
+    'Ithout a farmer's son, min.
+
+  Zoo jaÿ 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 workèn farmer's son, min.
+
+
+
+
+JEÄNE.
+
+
+  We now mid hope vor better cheer,
+  My smilèn 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 sheenèn 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' swayèn wheat a-turnèn 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 hangèn 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 ribbèd rine.
+  An' there, o' fine nights avore gwäin in to rest,
+        We did dance, vull o' life,
+        To the sound o' the fife,
+  Or plaÿ 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 blushèn _teen_,
+    She suddenly zicken'd an' died.
+  An' avore the green leaves in the fall wer gone by,
+        The lightnèn 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-neämèn 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 maïd 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 ramblèn happy chile,
+    An' chap so strong an' bwold,
+  An' bloomèn maïd wi' plaÿsome 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 swaÿ wi' moss about their rind
+    Their heads a-noddèn 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-workèn 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-swaÿèn 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-growèn 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-wantèn bread,
+    Zome, better off, ha' died,
+        Noo mwore to ho,
+        Vor homes below
+  The trees a-swaÿen 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 burnèn 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-zendèn 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'móst
+  A friend o' thik wold guidèn post.
+
+  An' there, wi' woone white eärm he show'd,
+  Down over bridge, the Leyton road;
+  Wi' woone, the leäne a-leädèn 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 guidèn 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-móst
+  In zight o' thik wold guidèn post.
+
+  An' when the haÿ-meäkers did zwarm
+  O' zummer evenèns out vrom farm.
+  The merry maïdens an' the chaps,
+  A-peärtèn there wi' jokes an' slaps,
+  Did goo, zome woone way off, an' zome
+  Another, all a-zingèn hwome;
+  Vor vew o'm had to goo, at mwost,
+  A mile beyond the guidèn post.
+
+  Poor Nanny Brown, woone darkish night,
+  When he'd a-been a-païnted white,
+  Wer frighten'd, near the gravel pits,
+  So dead's a hammer into fits,
+  A-thinkèn '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 guidèn 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 feäirèn 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 sheenèn 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 nothèn 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,
+  Maïdens 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-flantèn in their best.
+  Gaÿ did seem, at feäst or feäir,
+  Zights that I had her to sheäre;
+  Gaÿ would be my own heart still,
+  But vor Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.
+
+  Jeäne--a-checkèn 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-treatèn ill
+  Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.
+
+  Oh! poor Jenny! thou'st a tore
+    Hopèn love vrom my poor heart,
+  Losèn 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' evenèn 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-ringèn round,
+    The bells ov Alderburnham.
+
+  Vor when they rung their gaÿest 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 roarèn 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 jaÿ, what peals mid come
+    To zome o's broken-hearted!
+  The stronger mid the sooner die,
+  The gaÿer 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 bleäzèn kitchèn-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' rockèn 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 mornèn dew;
+  Woone feäced the evenèn 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 Maÿ the ground wi' blue.
+  An' there wer hills an' slopèn 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-windèn deep,
+  Wer mossy banks a-risèn steep;
+  An' stwonèn 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-comèn hwome or gwaïn abroad.
+  The zummer aïr 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-withrèn 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-runnèn 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' chickèn
+  Wer death-struck out in yard a-pickèn
+  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-naïlèn 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-comèn 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 workèn 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-eärnèn 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 shillèn 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 votèn o' the taxes?
+  An' when the poor've a-got a sheäre
+  In meäkèn 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' votèn, 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 votèn 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 pinchèn me, so well as you,
+  But I can't tell what ever they can do.
+
+  TOM.
+
+  Why meäke the farmers gi'e their leäbourèn 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 farmèn--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-doèn 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' frightenèn
+  The vrost an' raïn, the thunder an' the lightenèn!
+  An' as vor me, I don't know what to think
+  O' them there fine, big-talkèn, cunnèn,
+  Strange men, a-comèn down vrom Lon'on.
+  Why they don't stint theirzelves, but eat an' drink
+  The best at public-house where they do staÿ;
+  They don't work gratis, they do get their paÿ.
+  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-païd, because they be a-zent
+  By corn-law vo'k that be the poor man's friends,
+  To tell us all how we mid gaïn our ends,
+  A-zendèn 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-drillèn
+  Wi' barley or some wheat, in hopes o' villèn
+  Wi' good fresh corn his empty crop.
+  But lik' a thief, he didden like the païns
+  O' workèn hard to get en a vew graïns;
+  Zoo while the sleeky rogue wer there a-huntèn,
+  Wi' little luck, vor corns that mid be vound
+  A-peckèn vor, he heärd a pig a-gruntèn
+  Just tother zide o' hedge, in tother ground.
+  "Ah!" thought the cunnèn rogue, an' gi'ed a hop,
+  "Ah! that's the way vor me to vill my crop;
+  Aye, that's the plan, if nothèn 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 straïght upon a woak,
+  An' bowèn, lik' a man at hustèns, spoke:
+  "My friend," zaid he, "that's poorish livèn 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-gruntèn, "ees;
+  What wi' the hosses an' the geese,
+  There's only docks an' thissles here to chaw.
+  Instead o' livèn 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' gettèn 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-drillèn 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, believèn ev'ry single word
+  That wer a-twold en by the cunnèn 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' maïn,
+  Right up a drill, a-routèn up the graïn;
+  An' as the cunnèn crow did gi'e a caw
+  A-praisèn [=o]'n, oh! he did veel so proud!
+  An' work'd, an' blow'd, an' toss'd, an' ploughed
+  The while the cunnèn crow did vill his maw.
+  An' after workèn 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-brislèn up an' lookèn 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-zwingèn 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' cunnèn rooks.
+  If we be grubbèn 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 blessèns, shoulden let theirzelves vorget
+  How 'tis where the vo'k do never zet
+  A bit o' meat within their rusty pot.
+  The man a-zittèn 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 maïdens 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 gaït,
+  An' prettÿ feäces' smiles,
+  A-trippèn on so light o' waïght,
+  An' steppèn off the stiles;
+  A-gwaïn to church, as bells do swing
+  An' ring 'ithin the tow'r,
+  You'd own the pretty maïdens' 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 maïdens to your mind,
+  In Blackmwore by the Stour."
+
+  An' if you look'd 'ithin their door,
+  To zee em in their pleäce,
+  A-doèn housework up avore
+  Their smilèn 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 Maÿ,
+  There out upon the beäten grass
+  Wer maïdens at their plaÿ;
+  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 sheenèn grass-bleädes, timber-sheäded,
+    Now do quiver under voot;
+  An' birds do whissle over head,
+  An' water's bubblèn in its bed,
+  An' there vor me the apple tree
+  Do leän down low in Linden Lea.
+
+  When leaves that leätely wer a-springèn
+    Now do feäde 'ithin the copse,
+  An' païnted birds do hush their zingèn
+    Up upon the timber's tops;
+  An' brown-leav'd fruit's a-turnèn 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 aïr 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 gaÿ 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 aïr, at last, begun to come
+  Wi' drubbèns ov a beäten drum;
+  An' then we heärd the horns' loud droats
+  Plaÿ off a tuen's upper notes;
+  An' then ageän a-risèn 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 fluttrèn high
+  An' bright avore the sheenèn 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-reachèn, 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 tuèns to the crowd;
+  An' slowly-zwingèn flags did spread
+  Their hangèn colors over head.
+  An' then the vo'k, wi' jaÿ 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 naïse
+  O' knives an' pleätes, an' cups an' traÿs,
+  An' tongues wi' merry tongues a-drown'd
+  Below a deaf'nèn 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' whirlèn 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 sheenèn rim,
+  The vo'k, a-streamèn 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' plaÿ'd
+  Their tuèns up to chap an' maïd,
+  That beät, wi' plaÿsome tooes an' heels,
+  The level ground in nimble reels.
+  An' zome ageän, a-zet in line,
+  An' startèn at a given sign,
+  Wi' outreach'd breast, a-breathèn quick
+  Droo op'nèn lips, did nearly kick
+  Their polls, a-runnèn sich a peäce,
+  Wi' streamèn 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' smilèn friends in happy knots,
+  That I do think, that drough the feäst
+  In Caundle, vor a day at leäst,
+  You woudden vind a scowlèn feäce
+  Or dumpy heart in all the pleäce.
+
+
+
+
+HAY MEAKEN--NUNCHEN TIME.
+
+_Anne an' John a-ta'kèn 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-ringèn sh'ill,
+     Who woudden like to come, an' fling
+     A peäir o' prongs where you did zing?"
+
+  J. Aye, aye, he woudden vind it plaÿ,
+     To work all day a-meäkèn haÿ,
+     Or pitchèn o't, to eärms a-spread
+     By lwoaders, yards above his head,
+     'T'ud meäke en wipe his drippèn brow.
+
+  A. Or else a-reäken after plow.
+
+  J. Or workèn, wi' his nimble pick,
+     A-stiffled wi' the haÿ, 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 hissèn froth mid rise, an' float
+     In horns o' eäle, to wet his droat.
+
+  J. Aye, if his zwellèn 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-lyèn 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' pookèn, 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-tellèn, wi' her peakèd 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 sheenèn sky,
+  An' runnèn weäves in pon' did cheäse
+  Each other on the water's feäce,
+  As hufflèn win' did blow between
+  The new-leav'd boughs o' sheenèn green.
+  An' there, the while I walked along
+  The path, drough leäze, above the drong,
+  A little maïd, wi' bloomèn feäce,
+  Went on up hill wi' nimble peäce,
+  A-leänèn to the right-han' zide,
+  To car a basket that did ride,
+  A-hangèn 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-bearèn 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 ashèn poles, a-castèn straïght,
+  On primrwose beds, their langthy waïght;
+  Below the yollow light, a-shed
+  Drough boughs upon the vi'let's head,
+  By climèn ivy, that did reach,
+  A sheenèn roun' the dead-leav'd beech.
+  An' there her father zot, an' meäde
+  His hwomely meal bezide a gleäde;
+  While she, a-croopèn down to ground,
+  Did pull the flowers, where she vound
+  The droopèn 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 blessèns soon a-lost by zome;
+  A-lost by me, an' zoo I pray'd
+  They mid be speär'd the little maïd.
+
+
+
+
+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-runnèn 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 taïl!
+
+  J. He's off, then up athirt the raïl.
+     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 païl a flought,
+     An' flung my meal o' milk half out.
+
+  J. Ha! Ha!  But Anny, here, what lout
+     Broke half your small païl'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 païls '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 mowèn 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-tryèn to reäke out a clote.
+
+  A. Aye I do hear your chucklèn 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 nothèn 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 hornèn 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 milkèn wi' a peäir;
+     An' there a zix-lagg'd stout did prick
+     Your vow'r-lagg'd cow, an meäke her kick,
+     A-hettèn, 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-nothèn chap,
+     I'll gi'e your grinnèn feäce a slap,
+     Your drawlèn 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 jaÿ our rest did yield,
+    At evenèn by the mossy wall,
+  When we'd a-work'd all day a-vield,
+    While zummer zuns did rise an' vall;
+      As there a-lettèn
+      Goo all frettèn,
+  An' vorgettèn all our tweils,
+  We zot among our childern's smiles.
+
+  An' under skies that glitter'd white,
+    The while our smoke, arisèn blue,
+  Did melt in aiër, out o' zight,
+    Above the trees that kept us lew;
+      Wer birds a-zingèn,
+      Tongues a-ringèn,
+  Childern springèn, vull o' jaÿ,
+  A-finishèn the day in plaÿ.
+
+  An' back behind, a-stannèn tall,
+    The cliff did sheen to western light;
+  An' while avore the water-vall,
+    A-rottlèn loud, an' foamèn white.
+      The leaves did quiver,
+      Gnots did whiver,
+  By the river, where the pool,
+  In evenèn aïr did glissen cool.
+
+  An' childern there, a-runnèn wide,
+    Did plaÿ their geämes along the grove,
+  Vor though to us 'twer jaÿ to bide
+    At rest, to them 'twer jaÿ to move.
+      The while my smilèn
+      Jeäne, beguilèn,
+  All my tweilèn, wi' her ceäre,
+  Did call me to my evenèn feäre.
+
+
+
+
+LIGHT OR SHEÄDE.
+
+
+  A Maÿtide's evenèn wer a-dyèn,
+  Under moonsheen, into night,
+  Wi' a streamèn wind a-sighèn
+  By the thorns a-bloomèn white.
+  Where in sheäde, a-zinkèn deeply,
+  Wer a nook, all dark but lew,
+  By a bank, arisèn steeply,
+  Not to let the win' come drough.
+
+  Should my love goo out, a-showèn
+  All her smiles, in open light;
+  Or, in lewth, wi' wind a-blowèn,
+  Staÿ in darkness, dim to zight?
+  Staÿ in sheäde o' bank or wallèn,
+  In the warmth, if not in light;
+  Words alwone vrom her a-vallèn,
+  Would be jaÿ vor all the night.
+
+
+
+
+THE WAGGON A-STOODED.
+
+_Dree o'm a-ta'kèn o't._
+
+  (1) Well, here we be, then, wi' the vu'st poor lwoad
+      O' vuzz we brought, a-stoodèd 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-stoodèd 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-stoodèd 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' overstraïn 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-comèn.  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 consaït,
+      That I shall overzet en wi' my waïght.
+
+  (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-vallèn, 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-lyèn 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-bringèn 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.
+
+
+
+
+GWAÏN 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-comèn on,
+  To bloom when they be weak an' wan,
+  Went down the steps vor water.
+
+  An' what do yonder ringers tell
+  A-ringèn 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-blushèn vor his bride,
+  A pretty maïd that vu'st he spied,
+  Gwaïn 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-trippèn gaïly 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 taïls
+  Behind his païls, 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
+  Gwaïn down the steps vor water.
+
+  Gwaïn down the steps vor water! No!
+  How handsome it do meäke her grow.
+  If she'd be straïght, or walk abrode,
+  To tread her road wi' comely gaït,
+  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' maïdens, mornèn, noon, an' night,
+  A-gwaïn down steps vor water.
+
+
+
+
+ELLEN BRINE OV ALLENBURN.
+
+
+  Noo soul did hear her lips complaïn,
+  An' she's a-gone vrom all her païn,
+  An' others' loss to her is gaïn
+  For she do live in heaven's love;
+  Vull many a longsome day an' week
+  She bore her aïlèn, still, an' meek;
+  A-workèn while her strangth held on,
+  An' guidèn 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 mornèn light
+  In hall avore the smwold'rèn vier,
+  The while the childern beät the vloor,
+  In plaÿ, 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-stoppèn vrom his reäce,
+  Went up, an' on her knee did pleäce
+  His hand, a-lookèn in her feäce,
+  An' wi' a smilèn 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 feärèns back,
+  Vor them two childern all in black;
+  But they had now, wi' plaÿthings 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 zettèn 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'rèn sheädes,
+  A-windèn 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-lookèn 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-spreadèn 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 jaÿ'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'rèn 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-walkèn round
+  His voot, a hunderd veet o' ground.
+  An' there, above his upper wall,
+  A roundèd tow'r do spring so tall
+  'S a springèn arrow shot upright,
+  A hunderd giddy veet in height.
+  An' if you'd like to straïn your knees
+  A-climèn up above the trees,
+  To zee, wi' slowly wheelèn 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 risèn tow'r do wind,
+  Like withwind roun' the saplèn's rind,
+  An' reach a landèn, wi' a seat,
+  To rest at last your weary veet,
+  'Ithin a breast be-screenèn wall,
+  To keep ye vrom a longsome vall.
+  An' roun' the windèn steäirs do spring
+  Aïght stwonèn pillars in a ring,
+  A-reachèn up their heavy strangth
+  Drough forty veet o' slender langth,
+  To end wi' carvèd heads below
+  The broad-vloor'd landèn's aïry bow.
+  Aïght zides, as you do zee, do bound
+  The lower buildèn on the ground,
+  An' there in woone, a two-leav'd door
+  Do zwing above the marble vloor:
+  An' aÿe, as luck do zoo betide
+  Our comèn, 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-païnted, zide by zide,
+  In memory o' the squier's bride,
+  In zeven païntèns, true to life,
+  Wer zeven zights o' wedded life."
+
+  Then Meäster Collins twold me all
+  The teäles a-païntèd roun' the wall;
+  An' vu'st the bride did stan' to plight
+  Her weddèn vow, below the light
+  A-shootèn down, so bright's a fleäme,
+  In drough a churches window freäme.
+  An' near the bride, on either hand,
+  You'd zee her comely bridemaïds stand,
+  Wi' eyelashes a-bent in streäks
+  O' brown above their bloomèn cheäks:
+  An' sheenèn feäir, in mellow light,
+  Wi' flowèn 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-lyèn 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' smilèn 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 evenèn-tide,
+  A-restèn by the vier-zide.
+  An' there the childern's heads do rise
+  Wi' laughèn lips, an' beamèn eyes,
+  Above the bwoard, where she do lay
+  Her sheenèn tacklèn, 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-sheäpèn out, wi' skill an' ceäre,
+  A frock vor them to zew an' wear.
+
+  "Then next you'll zee her bend her head
+  Above her aïlèn husband's bed,
+  A-fannèn, wi' an inward praÿ'r,
+  His burnèn brow wi' beäten aïr;
+  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-hangèn low,
+  'Ithin his hands in deepest woe.
+  An' she, an angel ov his God,
+  Do cheer his soul below the rod,
+  A-liftèn up her han' to call
+  His eyes to writèn on the wall,
+  As white as is her spotless robe,
+  'Hast thou rememberèd 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 maïn;
+  They do bring us mwore jaÿ wi' mwore ho,
+    An' wi' nwone we've less jaÿ wi' less païn
+  We be all lik' a zull's idle sheäre out,
+  An' shall rust out, unless we do wear out,
+    Lik' do-nothèn, rue-nothèn,
+          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 plaÿ,
+    An' ageän wi' my maïd in her zongs;
+  An' my heart is a-stirr'd wi' their jaÿ,
+    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 plaÿvully, jaÿvully,
+          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-èn 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 taÿs I did bring;
+    Men a-kickèn, 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 taÿs,
+  That vor pleasure the bigger woones wrung
+    Their two hands at the zight o' their jaÿs;
+  As the bwoys' bigger vaïces vell in
+  Wi' the maïdens a-titterèn thin,
+    An' their dancèn an' prancèn,
+          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 blessèns 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-aïr'd evenèn's western light,
+  An' haÿ 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 maïd in all her bloom:
+      The feaïrest maïd 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 maïd 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-zwimmèn wet,
+      "No, I be woone o' Newton."
+
+  Then on I rambled to the west,
+  Below the zunny hangèn'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 maïd o' Newton.
+
+  By fancy led, at evenèn's glow,
+  I woonce did goo, a-rovèn slow,
+  Down where the elèms, 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 maïd o' Newton.
+
+
+
+
+CHILDHOOD.
+
+
+  Aye, at that time our days wer but vew,
+  An' our lim's wer but small, an' a-growèn;
+  An' then the feäir worold wer new,
+  An' life wer all hopevul an' gaÿ;
+  An' the times o' the sproutèn o' leaves,
+  An' the cheäk-burnèn seasons o' mowèn,
+  An' bindèn o' red-headed sheaves,
+  Wer all welcome seasons o' jaÿ.
+
+  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' veelèns 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 plaÿ'd as the days rolled along.
+
+  Then the rivers, an' high-timber'd lands,
+  An' the zilvery hills, 'ithout buyèn,
+  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-dyèn,
+  An' leäve us vor ever a-freed
+  Vrom evils our vorefathers bore.
+
+  But happy be childern the while
+  They have elders a-livèn 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 blowèn storm
+  That the timber avore em must rue.
+
+
+
+
+MEÄRY'S SMILE.
+
+
+  When mornèn winds, a-blowèn 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 evenèn dews
+  Do now begin to wet our shoes;
+  An' night's a-ridèn to the west,
+  To stop our work, an' gi'e us rest,
+  Oh! let the candle's ruddy gleäre
+  But brighten up her sheenèn 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 plaÿ
+  Like sparklèn weäves in zunny Maÿ;
+  But mid she still, vor all she's gone
+  Vrom souls she now do smile upon,
+  Show others they can vind woone jaÿ
+  To turn the hardest work to plaÿ.
+      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 sheenèn skies;
+  The cock mid crow to mornèn light,
+  An' workvo'k zing to vallèn night;
+  The birds mid whissle on the spraÿ,
+  An' childern leäp in merry plaÿ,
+  But our's is now a lifeless pleäce,
+  Vor we've a-lost a smilèn feäce--
+      Young Meäry Meäd o' merry mood,
+      Vor she's a-woo'd an' wedded.
+
+  The dog that woonce wer glad to bear
+  Her fondlèn 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 evenèn blind,
+  An' when the evenèn 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 vaïce 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 snortèn 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-clingèn 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-risèn 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 raïnless 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-blowèn cool,
+  Do dreve em out athirt the pool,
+  Or Winter's clouds do gather dark
+  An' wet, wi' raïn, 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 droopèn head mid slowly vall
+  Above the han'-staff's glossy ball,
+  An' yeet, vor all a wid'nèn span
+  Ov years, mid change a livèn 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-livèn 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' nothèn 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-tweilèn drough a lifetime's langth,
+  An' over cheäks a-growèn wold
+  The slowly-weästen years ha' rolled,
+  The deep'nèn 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 pinèn 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 praÿer 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 leàtest skies,
+  Their bloomèn cheäks an' sparklèn 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 maïd wi' winnèn 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 plaÿ,
+  Bezide thy river's rushy brink,
+    Upon a deäizybed o' Maÿ;
+  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' aïr o' zummer nights do blow
+    Athirt the vields in plaÿsome 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 evenèn 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' burnèn zun, an' sky o' blue.
+
+  But still there come a scud that drove
+  The titt'rèn maïdens vrom the grove;
+  An' there a-left wer flow'ry mound,
+  'Ithout a vaïce, 'ithout a sound,
+  Unless the aïr did blow,
+  Drough ruslèn leaves, an' drow,
+  The raïn drops low, upon the ground.
+
+  I linger'd there an' miss'd the naïse;
+  I linger'd there an' miss'd our jaÿs;
+  I miss'd woone soul beyond the rest;
+  The maïd that I do like the best.
+  Vor where her vaïce is gaÿ
+  An' where her smiles do plaÿ,
+  There's always jaÿ 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 vaïce do vall,
+  Wi' kindly words to all,
+  Both big an' small, the whole day drough.
+
+  An' when the evenèn sky wer peäle,
+  We heärd the warblèn nightèngeäle,
+  A-drawèn out his lwonesome zong,
+  In windèn 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 vaïce wer still;
+  An' as she stood avore me, bound
+  In stillness to the flow'ry mound,
+  "The bird's a jaÿ to zome,"
+  I thought, "but when he's dum,
+  Her vaïce will come, wi' sweeter sound."
+
+
+
+
+MINDEN HOUSE.
+
+
+  'Twer when the vo'k wer out to hawl
+  A vield o' haÿ 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 aïr 'ithin the geärden wall
+  Wer deadly still, unless the bee
+  Did hummy by, or in the hall
+  The clock did ring a-hettèn 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 rumblèn door,
+  An' laid azide her work, an' rose,
+  An' walk'd out feäir, athirt the vloor;
+  An' there, a-holdèn 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 gaÿ
+  In aïr a-blowèn, whiff by whiff,
+  While sheenèn water-weäves did plaÿ
+  An' boughs did swaÿ above the cliff;
+  Vor Time had now a-show'd en dim
+  The jaÿ 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 MAÏD OV ELWELL MEÄD.
+
+
+  A maïd wi' many gifts o' greäce,
+  A maïd wi' ever-smilèn feäce,
+  A child o' yours my chilhood's pleäce,
+    O leänèn lawns ov Allen;
+  'S a-walkèn where your stream do flow,
+  A-blushèn where your flowers do blow,
+  A-smilèn where your zun do glow,
+    O leänèn lawns ov Allen.
+      An' good, however good's a-waïgh'd,
+      'S the lovely maïd ov Elwell Meäd.
+
+  An' oh! if I could teäme an' guide
+  The winds above the e'th, an' ride
+  As light as shootèn stars do glide,
+    O leänèn lawns ov Allen,
+  To you I'd teäke my daily flight,
+  Drough dark'nèn aïr in evenèn's light,
+  An' bid her every night "Good night,"
+    O leänèn lawns ov Allen.
+      Vor good, however good's a-waïgh'd,
+      'S the lovely maïd ov Elwell Meäd.
+
+  An' when your hedges' slooes be blue,
+  By blackberries o' dark'nèn hue,
+  An' spiders' webs behung wi' dew,
+    O leänèn lawns ov Allen
+  Avore the winter aïr's a-chill'd,
+  Avore your winter brook's a-vill'd
+  Avore your zummer flow'rs be kill'd,
+    O leänèn lawns ov Allen;
+      I there would meet, in white arraÿ'd,
+      The lovely maïd ov Elwell Meäd.
+
+  For when the zun, as birds do rise,
+  Do cast their sheädes vrom autum' skies,
+  A-sparklèn in her dewy eyes,
+    O leänèn lawns ov Allen
+  Then all your mossy paths below
+  The trees, wi' leaves a-vallèn slow,
+  Like zinkèn fleäkes o' yollow snow,
+    O leänèn lawns ov Allen.
+      Would be mwore teäkèn where they straÿ'd
+      The lovely maïd ov Elwell Meäd.
+
+
+
+
+OUR FATHERS' WORKS.
+
+
+  Ah! I do think, as I do tread
+  Theäse path, wi' elems overhead,
+  A-climèn 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' draïn'd the fen, where water spread,
+  A-lyèn 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 rejaïce,
+  Wi' giant vaïce, at our good news:
+  An' lifted stwones an' beams to keep
+  The raïn 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' gaïn,
+  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-comèn 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 burnèn 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' frettèn 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 buildèns 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-climèn 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-tillèn lands,
+  That now do yield their childern bread
+  Till they do rest wi' wold vo'k dead.
+
+  But livèn vo'k, a-grievèn on,
+  Wi' lwonesome love, vor souls a-gone,
+  Do zee their goodness, but do vind
+  All else a-stealèn 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'nèn 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' faïth, an' jaÿ, 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' jaÿ o' jaÿs will dry the tear
+  O' sadness that do trickle here,
+  An' nothèn 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-swayèn up in North-Hill Copse.
+  An' on the east the mornèn broke
+  Above a dewy grove o' woak:
+  An' noontide shed its burnèn 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 burnèn gleädes,
+  An' come at evenèn up the leäze
+  Wi' red-eär'd dogs bezide his knees.
+  An' hold his gun, a-hangèn 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' spreadèn head,
+  Did sheäde the foxes' verny bed;
+  An' runnèn heäres, in zunny gleädes,
+  Did beät the grasses' quiv'rèn' bleädes;
+  An' speckled pa'tridges took flight
+  In stubble vields a-feädèn white;
+  Or he could zee the pheasant strut
+  In sheädy woods, wi' païnted 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' trottèn 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 aïry mornèns still mid smite
+  Our windows wi' their rwosy light,
+  An' high-zunn'd noons mid dry the dew
+  On growèn groun' below our shoe;
+  The blushèn evenèn still mid dye,
+  Wi' viry red, the western sky;
+  The zunny spring-time's quicknèn 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 bloomèn 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 zingèn lark aloft,
+  The while we heärd the echo sound
+  Drough all the ringèn valley round.
+
+  A lwonesome grove o' woak did rise,
+  To screen our house, where smoke did rise,
+  A-twistèn 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' milkmaïds by their cows did zing,
+  Wi' merry sounds, that softly died,
+  A-ringèn down the valley zide.
+
+  By river banks, wi' reeds a-bound,
+  An' sheenèn pools, wi' weeds a-bound,
+  The long-neck'd gander's ruddy bill
+  To snow-white geese did cackle sh'ill;
+  An' stridèn peewits heästen'd by,
+  O' tiptooe wi' their screamèn cry;
+  An' stalkèn cows a-lowèn loud,
+  An' struttèn cocks a-crowèn 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 sleepèn eyes all dark,
+  An' zuns a-rollèn round to bring
+  The seasons on, vrom Spring to Spring,
+  Ha' vled, wi' never-restèn flight,
+  Drough green-bough'd day, an' dark-tree'd night;
+  Till now our childhood's pleäces there,
+  Be gaÿ 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 naïl-bestudded door,
+  An' passage wi' a stwonèn vloor,
+  There spread the hall, where zun-light shone
+  In drough a window freäm'd wi' stwone.
+
+  A clavy-beam o' sheenèn woak
+  Did span the he'th wi' twistèn smoke,
+  Where fleämes did shoot in yollow streaks,
+  Above the brands, their flashèn 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' evenèn dew in June,
+  An' aunt did call the maïdens in
+  Vrom walkèn, 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 stwonèn freäme.
+
+  O evenèn zun, a-ridèn drough
+  The sky, vrom Sh'oton Hill o' blue,
+  To leäve the night a-broodèn dark
+  At Stalbridge, wi' its grey-wall'd park;
+  Small jaÿ 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 stwonèn freäme.
+
+
+
+
+THE WATER-SPRING IN THE LEANE.
+
+
+  Oh! aye! the spring 'ithin the leäne,
+  A-leäden down to Lyddan Brook;
+  An' still a-nesslèn 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-blushèn in her prime;
+  The widow wi' her eyezight dim;
+        Maïdens dippèn,
+        Childern sippèn,
+  Water drippèn, at the cool
+  Dark wallèn ov the little pool.
+
+  Behind the spring do lie the lands
+  My father till'd, vrom Spring to Spring,
+  Awäitèn on vor time to bring
+  The crops to paÿ his weary hands.
+        Wheat a-growèn,
+        Beäns a-blowèn,
+  Grass vor mowèn, where the bridge
+  Do leäd to Ryall's on the ridge.
+
+  But who do know when liv'd an' died
+  The squier o' the mwoldrèn hall;
+  That lined en wi' a stwonèn 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' burnèn 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 evenèn aiër cool my het,
+  When dew do wet the grasses bleädes,
+  A-quiv'rèn in the dusky sheädes.
+
+  There yonder poplar trees do plaÿ
+  Soft music, as their heads do swaÿ,
+  While wind, a-rustlèn soft or loud,
+  Do stream ageän their lofty sh'oud;
+  An' seem to heal the ranklèn 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 naïghbours' 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-growèn 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 aïry down,
+  Where woonce the meshy wall did gird
+  Your flow'ry geärden, an' the bird
+  Did zing in zummer wind that stirr'd
+  The spreädèn linden on the lawn.
+
+  An' now ov all the trees wi' sheädes
+  A-wheelèn round in Blackmwore gleädes,
+  There's noo tall poplar by the brook,
+  Nor elem that do rock the rook,
+  Nor ash upon the shelvèn 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 aïr did blow,
+  An' sheäke the dewy rwose a-tied
+  Up roun' the window's stwonèn zide.
+  An' while the carter rod' along
+  A-zingèn, down the dusky drong,
+  There you did zing a sweeter zong
+  Below the linden on the lawn.
+
+  An' while your warbled ditty wound
+  Drough plaÿsome flights o' mellow sound,
+  The nightèngeäle'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 stwonèn-window'd hall,
+  Avore your father's blinkèn eyes,
+  His evenèn whiff o' smoke did rise,
+  An' vrom the bedroom window's height
+  Your little John, a-cloth'd in white,
+  An' gwaïn 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 pworchèd door,
+  Noo laughèn child a-cloth'd in white,
+  Look'd drough the stwonèn window's light,
+  An' noo vaïce 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 plaÿ 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 evenèn he'th's a-glowèn warm,
+    Drough wringèn vrost, an' roarèn 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 raïn;
+    An' climèn ivy quiver, limber,
+      Up ageän the window peäne;
+    Our merry vaïces then do sound,
+    In rollèn glee, or dree-vaïce 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 vaïce o' maïd or youth,
+  An' sweeter than the nightèngeäle'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' comèn days a-head,
+  That now do seem as in a reäce
+  Wi' aïr-birds to ha' vled.
+
+
+
+
+THE VIER-ZIDE.
+
+
+  'Tis zome vo'ks jaÿ to teäke the road,
+  An' goo abro'd, a-wand'rèn wide,
+  Vrom shere to shere, vrom pleäce to pleäce,
+  The swiftest peäce that vo'k can ride.
+  But I've a jaÿ 'ithin the door,
+  Wi' friends avore the vier-zide.
+
+  An' zoo, when winter skies do lour,
+  An' when the Stour's a-rollèn wide,
+  Drough bridge-voot raïls, a-païnted white,
+  To be at night the traveller's guide,
+  Gi'e me a pleäce that's warm an' dry,
+  A-zittèn 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'nèn door
+  Would leäd noo mwore where he did bide
+  An' where I heärd his vaïces sound,
+  In me'th around the vier-zide.
+
+  As I've a-zeed how vast do vall
+  The mwold'rèn 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' missèn 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 plaïn abode where love do bide.
+
+  Where the shelvèn knap do vall, John,
+  Under trees a-springèn tall, John;
+  'Tis there my house do show his sheenèn zide,
+  Wi' his walls vor ever green, John,
+  Under ivy that's a screen, John,
+  Vrom wet an' het, an' ev'ry changèn tide,
+  An' I do little ho vor goold or pride,
+  To leäve the plaïn abode where love do bide.
+
+  There the bendèn 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-lookèn out o' mill:
+  The while 'ithin his lightly-sheäken door.
+  His wheatèn flour do whitèn all his floor.
+
+  When my daily work's a-done, John,
+  At the zettèn o' the zun, John,
+  An' I all day 've a-plaÿ'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 plaïn 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 zingèn drush do swaÿ, John,
+  Up an' down upon a spraÿ, 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 maïd a-zingèn by the stream, John,
+  Or carter whislèn wi' his team, John,
+  Or zingèn birds, or water at the hatch;
+  An' zoo wi' sounds o' vaïce, 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-burnèn on my bwoard,
+  Then vor pleasures out o' door, John,
+  I've enough upon my vloor, John:
+  My Jenny's lovèn deed, an' look, an' word,
+  An' we be lwoth, lik' culvers zide by zide,
+  To leäve the plaïn 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 maïden hwome's vorseäken vloor,
+  An' under stars that slowly wheel'd
+  Aloft, above the keen-aïr'd vield,
+  While night bedimm'd the rus'lèn 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' zittèn round,
+  The brimvul mug o' cider stood
+  An' hiss'd avore the bleäzèn wood;
+  An' zome, a-zittèn knee by knee,
+  Did tell their teäles wi' hearty glee,
+  An' others gamboll'd in a roar
+  O' laughter on the stwonèn 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 evenèn geämes;
+  An' while the swaÿèn cypress bow'd,
+  In chilly wind, his darksome sh'oud
+  An' honeyzuckles, beäre o' leäves,
+  Still reach'd the window-sheädèn eaves
+  Up where the clematis did trim
+  The stwonèn 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' strollèn there,
+  The winter wind, a-hufflèn loud,
+  Did swaÿ 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' peävèn stwone
+  That burn'd below the zummer zun,
+  Struck icy-cwold drough shoes a-wore
+  By maïdens 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' passèn drough,
+  Light strawmotes rose in flaggèn flight,
+  A-floated by the winds o' night,
+  Where leafy ivy-stems did crawl
+  In moonlight on the windblown wall,
+  An' merry maïdens' vaïces vled
+  In echoes sh'ill, vrom wall to shed,
+  As shiv'rèn 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' gwaïn 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' sheenèn 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-swingèn slow,
+  Avore the zun, wi' evenèn glow,
+  Above our road, a-beamèn red;
+  The grass in zwath wer in the meäds,
+  The water gleam'd among the reeds
+  In aïr a-steälèn 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' blushèn pride,
+  Where softly-wheelèn 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 raïn 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' paÿ noo rent."
+  An' Meäry gi'ed en her consent.
+  "Do, do,"--the maïdens 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 paÿ,"
+  Cried merry Bleäke o' Blackmwore.
+
+  The work begun, an' trowels rung,
+  An' up the brickèn wall did rise,
+  An' up the slantèn 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 raïny 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-meäkèn 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-praïs'd, flung up his crown,
+  All back a-laughèn in a roar.
+  They praïs'd his wife, an' she look'd down
+  A-simperèn towards the vloor.
+  Then up they sprung a-dancèn reels,
+  An' up went tooes, an' up went heels,
+  A-windèn roun' in knots an' wheels.
+  "Brisk, brisk,"--the maïdens 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' jaÿ an' pride,
+  His brickèn house, an' pworch, an' green,
+  Above the Stour's rushy zide.
+  The zwallows left the lwonesome groves,
+  To build below the thatchèn 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 bowèn zedge,
+  A-springèn 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 arisèn blue;
+  Avore the night do dim our zight,
+  Or candle-light, a-sheenèn 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'rèn on the chilly land;
+  The while the zun, wi' zettèn rim,
+  Do leäve the workman's pathway dim;
+  An' sweet-breath'd childern's hangèn 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-sparklèn drough the window.
+
+  If winter's whistlèn 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'rèn in a row,
+  An' risèn stars do slowly ride
+  Above the ruf's upslantèn 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-beamèn drough the window.
+
+
+
+
+MILKEN TIME.
+
+
+  'Twer when the busy birds did vlee,
+  Wi' sheenèn wings, vrom tree to tree,
+  To build upon the mossy lim',
+  Their hollow nestes' rounded rim;
+  The while the zun, a-zinkèn low,
+  Did roll along his evenèn 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 païls
+  Wi' heäiry tufts o' swingèn taïls;
+  An' there wer Jenny Coom a-gone
+  Along the path a vew steps on.
+  A-beärèn on her head, upstraïght,
+  Her païl, wi' slowly-ridèn waïght,
+  An' hoops a-sheenèn, lily-white,
+  Ageän the evenèn's slantèn light;
+  An' zo I took her païl, an' left
+  Her neck a-freed vrom all his heft;
+  An' she a-lookèn up an' down,
+  Wi' sheäpely head an' glossy crown,
+  Then took my zide, an' kept my peäce
+  A-talkèn on wi' smilèn feäce,
+  An' zettèn things in sich a light,
+  I'd faïn 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 païl 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 rizèn stars,
+  The dark'nèn day mid leäve behind
+  Woone tongue that I shall always vind,
+  A-whisperèn 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-bleärèn out in ground,
+  The sh'ill-vaïc'd dog do stan' an' bark
+  'Ithin the dark, bezide the road;
+  An' when noo cracklèn 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' rumblèn sound,
+  An' gi'e me vaïces that do speak
+  So soft an' meek, to souls alwone;
+  The brook a-gurglèn round a stwone,
+  An' birds o' day a-zingèn clear,
+  An' leaves, that I mid zit an' hear
+  A-rustlèn near, when birds be still.
+
+
+
+
+RIDEN HWOME AT NIGHT.
+
+
+  Oh! no, I quite injaÿ'd the ride
+    Behind wold Dobbin's heavy heels,
+  Wi' Jeäne a-prattlèn at my zide,
+    Above our peäir o' spinnèn wheels,
+  As grey-rin'd ashes' swaÿèn tops
+  Did creak in moonlight in the copse,
+  Above the quiv'rèn grass, a-beät
+  By wind a-blowèn 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-waïtèn vor the zun to rise,
+  Ha' too much love to let em know
+  The ling'rèn 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 drownèn leädy's frock.
+
+  Zome staddle stwones to bear a mow,
+    Wer dancèn veäries on the lag;
+  An' then a snow-white sheeted cow
+    Could only be, she thought, their flag,
+  An owl a-vleèn 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'rèn dew;
+  An' brooks that gleam'd below the light,
+    An' dim vield paths 'ithout a shoe.
+  An' gaïly talk'd bezide my ears,
+  A-laughèn 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-smilèn 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-slightèn, work-vorgettèn.
+      Gambol'd wi' the zun a-zetten.
+
+  There, by flow'ry bows o' bramble,
+    Under hedge, in ash-tree sheädes,
+  The dun-heaïr'd ho'se did slowly ramble
+    On the grasses' dewy bleädes,
+      Zet free o' lwoads,
+      An' stwony rwoads,
+      Vorgetvul o' the lashes frettèn,
+      Grazèn wi' the zun a-zettèn.
+
+  There wer rooks a-beätèn by us
+    Drough the aïr, in a vlock,
+  An' there the lively blackbird, nigh us,
+    On the meäple bough did rock,
+      Wi' ringèn droat,
+      Where zunlight smote
+      The yollow boughs o' zunny hedges
+      Over western hills' blue edges.
+
+  Waters, drough the meäds a-purlèn,
+    Glissen'd in the evenèn's light,
+  An' smoke, above the town a-curlèn,
+    Melted slowly out o' zight;
+      An' there, in glooms
+      Ov unzunn'd rooms,
+      To zome, wi' idle sorrows frettèn,
+      Zuns did set avore their zettèn.
+
+  We were out in geämes and reäces,
+    Loud a-laughèn, 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 nettèn
+      Sparkled to the zun a-zettèn.
+
+
+
+
+SPRING.
+
+
+  Now the zunny aïr's a-blowèn
+  Softly over flowers a-growèn;
+  An' the sparklèn light do quiver
+  On the ivy-bough an' river;
+  Bleätèn lambs, wi' woolly feäces,
+  Now do plaÿ, a-runnèn reäces;
+        An' the springèn
+        Lark's a-zingèn,
+  Lik' a dot avore the cloud,
+  High above the ashes sh'oud.
+
+  Housèn, 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'rèn 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' slopèn leäzes,
+  Zingèn zongs in zunny breezes;
+  Out to work in copse, a-mootèn,
+  Where the primrwose is a-shootèn,
+        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-climmèn up the slopèn 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 dazzlèn flow'rs,
+  The while the climmèn 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 jaÿ 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' raïn 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 swaÿen mower's bleäde;
+  An' sweet be merry looks o' jaÿ,
+  By weäles an' pooks o' June's new haÿ,
+  Wi' smilèn age, an laughèn 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-rizèn aïrs do cool
+  The water in the sheenèn pool,
+  Thy beds o' snow-white buds do gleam
+  So feäir upon the sky-blue stream,
+  As whitest clouds, a-hangèn high
+  Avore the blueness o' the sky;
+  An' there, at hand, the thin-heäir'd cows,
+  In aïry sheädes o' withy boughs,
+  Or up bezide the mossy raïls,
+  Do stan' an' zwing their heavy taïls,
+  The while the ripplèn stream do flow
+  Below the dousty bridge's bow;
+  An' quiv'rèn water-gleams do mock
+  The weäves, upon the sheäded rock;
+  An' up athirt the copèn stwone
+  The laïtren bwoy do leän alwone,
+  A-watchèn, wi' a stedvast look,
+  The vallèn 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-slidèn stream,
+  While sparklèn zummer-brooks do run
+  Below the lofty-climèn zun,
+  I only wish that thou could'st staÿ
+  Vor noo man's harm, an' all men's jaÿ.
+  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-spreadèn 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 aïr, my bloomèn tree,
+  Or zee thy blossoms vrom the gloom,
+  'Ithin my zunless workèn-room,
+  My heart do leäp, but leäp wi' sighs,
+  At zight o' thee avore my eyes,
+  For when thy grey-blue head do swaÿ
+  In cloudless light, 'tis Spring, 'tis Maÿ.
+
+  'Tis Spring, 'tis Maÿ, as Maÿ woonce shed
+  His glowèn light above thy head--
+  When thy green boughs, wi' bloomy tips,
+  Did sheäde my childern's laughèn lips;
+  A-screenèn 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' lovèn ceäre,
+  Did smooth their little heads o' heäir;
+
+  Or wi' a sheäke, tie up anew
+  Vor zome wild voot, a slippèn 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-ringèn 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 spraÿ,
+  Drough all the days o' zunny Maÿ.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLACKBIRD.
+
+
+  'Twer out at Penley I'd a-past
+  A zummer day that went too vast,
+  An' when the zettèn 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 maïdens on their tooes,
+  A-laughèn sh'ill wi' merry feäce
+  When we did vind their hidèn pleäce.
+  'Ithin the loose-bough'd ivys gloom,
+  Or lofty lilac, vull in bloom,
+  Or hazzle-wrides that gi'ed em room
+  Below the zingèn blackbird.
+
+  Above our heads the rooks did vlee
+  To reach their nested elem-tree,
+  An' splashèn vish did rise to catch
+  The wheelèn gnots above the hatch;
+  An' there the miller went along,
+  A-smilèn, up the sheädy drong,
+  But yeet too deaf to hear the zong
+  A-zung us by the blackbird.
+
+  An' there the sh'illy-bubblèn 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 vaïces that mid never sound
+  Ageän together on that ground,
+  Wi' whislèns o' the blackbird.
+
+
+
+
+THE SLANTÈN LIGHT O' FALL.
+
+
+  Ah! Jeäne, my maïd, I stood to you,
+    When you wer christen'd, small an' light,
+  Wi' tiny eärms o' red an' blue,
+    A-hangèn 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 slantèn 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 smilèn mother's eärms.
+  The whindlèn 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 slantèn 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'nèn in the cloud,
+  An' then a stream o' light break drough,
+  A-sheenèn brightly down on you--
+      The slantèn light o' Fall.
+
+  But now your time's a-come to stand
+    In church, a-blushèn at my zide,
+  The while a bridegroom vrom my hand
+    Ha' took ye vor his faïthvul bride.
+  Your christèn neäme we gi'd ye here,
+  When Fall did cool the weästèn year;
+  An' now, ageän, we brought ye drough
+  The doorway, wi' your surneäme new,
+      In slantèn light o' Fall.
+
+  An' zoo vur, Jeäne, your life is feäir,
+    An' God ha' been your steadvast friend,
+  An' mid ye have mwore jaÿ 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 slantèn light o' Fall.
+
+
+
+
+THISSLEDOWN.
+
+
+  The thissledown by wind's a-roll'd
+    In Fall along the zunny plaïn,
+  Did catch the grass, but lose its hold,
+    Or cling to bennets, but in vaïn.
+
+  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-bescreenèn ledge.
+
+  The plaïn 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' nothèn mwore to veel or do.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAY-TREE.
+
+
+  I've a-come by the Maÿ-tree all times o' the year,
+          When leaves wer a-springèn,
+          When vrost wer a-stingèn,
+  When cool-winded mornèn did show the hills clear,
+  When night wer bedimmèn the vields vur an' near.
+
+  When, in zummer, his head wer as white as a sheet,
+          Wi' white buds a-zwellèn,
+          An' blossom, sweet-smellèn,
+  While leaves wi' green leaves on his bough-zides did meet,
+  A-sheädèn the deäisies down under our veet.
+
+  When the zun, in the Fall, wer a-wanderèn wan,
+          An' haws on his head
+          Did sprinkle en red,
+  Or bright drops o' raïn 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' twinklèn stars,
+  An' whislèn aïr a-risèn 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-ringèn changes up in tow'r;
+  Vor Lydlinch bells be good vor sound,
+  An' liked by all the naïghbours round.
+
+  An' while along the leafless boughs
+  O' ruslèn hedges, win's did pass,
+  An' orts ov haÿ, a-left by cows,
+  Did russle on the vrozen grass,
+  An' maïdens' païls, wi' all their work
+  A-done, did hang upon their vurk,
+  An' they, avore the fleämèn brand,
+  Did teäke their needle-work in hand,
+  The men did cheer their heart an hour
+  A-ringèn changes up in tow'r;
+  Vor Lydlinch bells be good vor sound,
+  An' liked by all the naïghbours round.
+
+  There sons did pull the bells that rung
+  Their mothers' weddèn peals avore,
+  The while their fathers led em young
+  An' blushèn 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-streamèn slow
+  Along below the trees in row,
+  While they, in merry peals, did sound
+  The bells vor all the naïghbours round.
+
+  An' when the bells, wi' changèn 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 risèn moon did light
+  The walls o' Thornhill on the height;
+  An' zoo, whatever time mid bring
+  To meäke their vive clear vaïces zing,
+  Still Lydlinch bells wer good vor sound,
+  An' liked by all the naïghbours 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 raïls 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 reïns 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 plaïn 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 rumblèn coach did pass
+    Where hufflèn winds did roar,
+  They'd stop to teäke a warmèn 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' gaïly 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 droopèn flowers drough the day,
+  As I did beät the dousty road
+    Vrom hinder hills, a-feädèn 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 windèn road do guide
+    The thirsty vootman where mid flow
+  The water vrom a rock bezide
+    His vootsteps, in a sheenèn bow;
+    The hand a-hollow'd up
+    Do beät a goolden cup,
+  To catch an' drink it, bright an' cool,
+  A-vallèn light 'ithin the pool.
+
+  Zoo when, at last, I hung my head
+    Wi' thirsty lips a-burnèn 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 burnèn day.
+
+  But when our work is right, a jaÿ
+    Do come to bless us in its traïn,
+  An' hardships ha' zome good to paÿ
+    The thoughtvul soul vor all their päin:
+    The het do sweetèn 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 swaÿ
+    In sheädes o' lim's above em still,
+    An' blue sky show'd between
+    The flutt'rèn 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 travellèn 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-grubbèn, Thomas, an' ledge-grubbèn,
+        Never a-done
+  While a sov'rèn 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-burnèn 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 goslèns 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 plaÿ 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 plaÿ;
+  An' if the young child's little body's a-spweil'd,
+    Why, the man's wull the sooner decaÿ.
+  But wealth is wo'th now mwore than health is wo'th;
+        Let it all goo,
+  If't 'ull bring but a sov'rèn 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 lockèn up, Thomas, an' blockèn 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 drevèn out, Thomas, an' hevèn 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 evenèn 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 raïls, a stage or two,
+  An' while the heavy wheels did spin
+  An' rottle, wi' a deafnèn din,
+  In clouds o' steam, the zweepèn traïn
+  Did shoot along the hill-bound plaïn,
+  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' windèn 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, beholdèn vrom above
+  Our lowly road, wi' yearnèn 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 traïn,
+  A-ridèn on athirt the plaïn,
+  A-cleären swifter than a hound,
+  On twin-laid rails, the zwimmèn 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 maïdens 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 ribbèd 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 burnèn het o' noon goo by.
+
+  Or if you'd look, wi' wider scope,
+    Out where the gray-tree'd plaïn do spread,
+  The ash bezide the zunny slope,
+    Do sheäde a cool-aïr'd deäisy bed,
+  An' grassy seat, wi' spreadèn eaves
+    O' rus'lèn leaves, above your head.
+
+  An' there the traïn mid come in zight,
+    Too vur to hear a-rollèn by,
+  A-breathèn quick, in heästy flight,
+    His breath o' tweil, avore the sky,
+  The while the waggon, wi' his lwoad,
+    Do crawl the rwoad a-windèn nigh.
+
+  Or now theäse happy holiday
+    Do let vo'k rest their weäry lim's,
+  An' lwoaded hay's a-hangèn gray,
+    Above the waggon-wheels' dry rims,
+  The meäd ha' seats in weäles or pooks,
+    By windèn brooks, wi' crumblèn brims.
+
+  Or if you'd gi'e your thoughtvul mind
+    To yonder long-vorseäken hall,
+  Then teäke a stwonèn 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 aïr 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 bendèn rush, or sheenèn zedge,
+    Or sounds o' flowèn water.
+
+  The aïr that I've a-breath'd did sheäke
+  The draps o' raïn upon the breäke,
+  An' bear aloft the swingèn 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' flowèn water.
+
+  An' when the zun, wi' vi'ry rim,
+  'S a-zinkèn low, an' wearèn 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 thatchèn oves,
+  Wi' ruslèn win's in leafy groves,
+    An' sounds o' flowèn water.
+
+
+
+
+TREES BE COMPANY.
+
+
+  When zummer's burnèn het's a-shed
+  Upon the droopèn grasses head,
+  A-drevèn 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' aïr 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-reachèn into blue
+  Than roads a-windèn in the glen,
+  An' ringèn 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 Maÿ do shed its glitt'rèn 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 Maÿ, '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' gettèn 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-risèn tall,
+  The glowèn 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-risèn 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' hangèn vetterlocks
+  A-sheäkèn roun' his heavy hocks,
+  An' us, a lwoad not much too small,
+  A-ridèn 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 rollèn winds athirt the ground;
+  While sheenèn-ribbons' color'd streäks
+  Did flutter roun' the maïdens' cheäks,
+  As they did zit, wi' smilèn lips,
+  A-reachèn out their vinger-tips
+  Toward zome teäkèn 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' spreadèn 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 straïnèns 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 stwonèn tun
+  Avore the dazzlèn mornèn zun,
+  Wer still the rollèn 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 maïdens, 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-rottlèn 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-comèn on to meet,
+  Wi' growèn 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' dribblèn water down below
+  The stwonèn archès 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 zittèn all alwone,
+  A little maïd o' marble stwone
+  Do leän her little cheäk azide
+  Upon her lily han', an' bide
+  Bezide the vallèn stream to zee
+  Her pitcher vill'd avore her knee.
+  An' then the brook, a-rollèn dark
+  Below a leänèn yew-tree's bark,
+  Wi' plaÿsome ripples that do run
+  A-flashèn to the western zun,
+  Do shoot, at last, wi' foamy shocks,
+  Athirt a ledge o' craggy rocks,
+  A-castèn in his heästy flight,
+  Upon the stwones a robe o' white;
+  An' then ageän do goo an' vall
+  Below a bridge's archèd wall,
+  Where vo'k agwaïn 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-pweïntèn to the stream
+  His little vinger-tip, do seem
+  A-showèn to his playmeätes' eyes,
+  Where he do zee the vishes rise;
+  An' woone ageän, wi' smilèn 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-holdèn back his pretty hand
+  Behind his little ear, to drow
+  A stwone upon the stream below.
+  An' then the housèn, that be all
+  Sich pretty hwomes, vrom big to small,
+  A-lookèn south, do cluster round
+  A zunny ledge o' risèn ground,
+  Avore a wood, a-nestled warm,
+  In lewth ageän the northern storm,
+  Where smoke, a-wreathèn blue, do spread
+  Above the tuns o' dusky red,
+  An' window-peänes do glitter bright
+  Wi' burnèn streams o' zummer light,
+  Below the vine, a-traïn'd to hem
+  Their zides 'ithin his leafy stem,
+  An' rangle on, wi' flutt'rèn leaves,
+  Below the houses' thatchen eaves.
+  An' drough a lawn a-spread avore
+  The windows, an' the pworchèd door,
+  A path do wind 'ithin a hatch,
+  A-vastèn'd wi' a clickèn latch,
+  An' there up over ruf an' tun,
+  Do stan' the smooth-wall'd church o' stwone,
+  Wi' carvèd windows, thin an' tall,
+  A-reachèn up the lofty wall;
+  An' battlements, a-stannèn round
+  The tower, ninety veet vrom ground,
+  Vrom where a teäp'rèn speer do spring
+  So high's the mornèn 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 maïdens a-titt'rèn, 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 dazzlèn feäir maïd 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 smilèn an' kind,
+  Why he wrote her zome laïns, 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 stannèn 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 aïr look'd so dim as a smoke.
+
+  Well! he vound a good naïghbour 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 pleazèn to zome,
+  He could all but ha' wish'd that he hadden a-come.
+  The bride wer a-smilèn 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 aïms 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 païl 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 gaÿer lass, O,
+  Do trip a-smilèn up an' down,
+    So peäle wi' smoke an' gas, O;
+  But here, in vields o' greäzèn herds,
+  Her väice ha' mingled sweetest words
+  Wi' evenèn cheärms o' busy birds,
+    Bezide the Winter's Willow.
+
+  An' when, at last, wi' beätèn breast,
+    I knock'd avore her door, O,
+  She ax'd me in to teäke the best
+    O' pleäces on the vloor, O;
+  An' smilèn feäir avore my zight,
+  She blush'd bezide the yollow light
+  O' bleäzèn 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' rollèn 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 milkèn païl's white hoop,
+  Or zit a-milkèn 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' païls to zet avore her knees,
+    At dawn an' evenèn-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-sheenèn on the whole day drough,
+  From mornèn's dawn till evenèn'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-comèn roun',
+  The purple he'th's a-feädèn brown,
+  An' hangèn vern's a-sheäkèn 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 bendèn 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-sheenèn wide, wi' windèn brim.
+
+  How feäir, I thought, avore the sky
+    The slowly-zwimmèn clouds do look;
+  How soft the win's a-streamèn by;
+    How bright do roll the weävy brook:
+  When there, a-passèn on my right,
+  A-waikèn slow, an' treadèn 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-walkèn slowly by:
+  But I went east, wi' beätèn 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 evenèn aïr, in green-treed Spring,
+  Do sheäke the new-sprung pa'sley bed,
+  An' wither'd ash-tree keys do swing
+  An' vall a-flutt'rèn 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 vaïce an' feäce can meäke vor me.
+
+  Below the buddèn 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 zettèn zun, or moon
+  A-risèn, time wull vlee too soon
+  Wi' Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleäce
+  Her vaïce an' feäce can meäke vor me.
+
+  Down where the darksome brook do flow,
+  Below the bridge's archèd wall,
+  Wi' alders dark, a-leanèn 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 vaïce an' feäce ha' meäde me there.
+
+  An' oh! when other years do come,
+  An' zettèn zuns, wi' yollow gleäre,
+  Drough western window-peänes, at hwome,
+  Do light upon my evenèn 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 vaïce an' feäce do meäke vor me.
+
+  Ah! you do smile, a-thinkèn light
+  O' my true words, but never mind;
+  Smile on, smile on, but still your flight
+  Would leäve me little jaÿ behind:
+  But let me not be zoo a-tried
+  Wi' you a-lost where I do bide,
+  O Jessie Lee, in any pleäce
+  Your vaïce an' feäce ha' blest vor me.
+
+  I'm sure that when a soul's a-brought
+  To this our life ov aïr 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 vaïce 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-aïr'd beäns were out in blooth,
+  Down there 'ithin the elem gleäde;
+  A yollow-banded bee did come,
+  An' softly-pitch, wi' hushèn hum,
+  Upon a beän, an' there did sip,
+  Upon a swaÿèn 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' claïms, 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' maïdens, 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 passèn on,
+  'Tis here to-day, to-morrow gone.
+  But there's a blessèn 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' gaÿ 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 startlèn 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' roarèn 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 twinklèn eyes,
+  An' elbows down upon his thighs.
+  A-chucklèn 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 plaÿ 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 purrèn 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 lovèn 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 restèn rim wer dry,
+  An' houn's held up their evenèn 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 gaÿ, 'tis true, but gaÿ an' wise,
+  An' laugh'd in light o' maïden'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 plaÿsome 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 willènly, 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' slopèn knaps a-screen'd around,
+  Rose dim 'ithout a breath o' sound,
+  The wold abode o' squiers a-gone,
+  Though while they lay a-sleepèn on,
+  Their stars wer still awake, John.
+
+
+
+
+IVY HALL.
+
+
+  If I've a-stream'd below a storm,
+    An' not a-velt the raïn,
+  An' if I ever velt me warm,
+    In snow upon the plaïn,
+  'Twer when, as evenèn skies wer dim,
+  An' vields below my eyes wer dim,
+  I went alwone at evenèn-fall,
+  Athirt the vields to Ivy Hall.
+
+  I voun' the wind upon the hill,
+    Last night, a-roarèn loud,
+  An' rubbèn boughs a-creakèn sh'ill
+    Upon the ashes' sh'oud;
+  But oh! the reelèn copse mid groan;
+  An' timber's lofty tops mid groan;
+  The hufflèn winds be music all,
+  Bezide my road to Ivy Hall.
+
+  A sheädy grove o' ribbèd woaks,
+    Is Wootton's shelter'd nest,
+  An' woaks do keep the winter's strokes
+    Vrom Knapton's evenèn rest.
+  An' woaks ageän wi' bossy stems,
+  An' elems wi' their mossy stems,
+  Do rise to screen the leafy wall
+  An' stwonèn 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 jaÿ ov heart,
+  An' storms do meäke me gaÿ ov heart,
+  When I do rest, at evenèn-fall,
+  Bezide the he'th ov Ivy Hall.
+
+  There leafy stems do clim' around
+    The mossy stwonèn eaves;
+  An' there be window-zides a-bound
+    Wi' quiv'rèn ivy-leaves.
+  But though the sky is dim 'ithout,
+  An' feäces mid be grim 'ithout,
+  Still I ha' smiles when I do call,
+  At evenèn-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-workèn in his mind-like,
+  An' mounted vor a passenger inside;
+  An' comèn to a puddle, perty wide,
+  He tipp'd me in, a-grinnèn 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 thinkèn 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 meetèn 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.
+      Slinkèn on! blinkèn on! thinkèn on!
+            Gloomy an' glum;
+      Nothèn 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 tiddèn 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 charmèn to our very souls,
+  Wer woonce your evenèn maïden strolls,
+  The while the zettèn zunlight dyed
+  Wi' red the beeches' western zide,
+  But back avore your vinger wore
+  The weddèn 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-strikèn leäte at night,
+  The while the moon, wi' risèn 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 evenèn-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 couldèn 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 blessèns 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-PRAÏS'D.
+
+
+  'Twer Maÿ, but ev'ry leaf wer dry
+  All day below a sheenèn sky;
+  The zun did glow wi' yollow gleäre,
+  An' cowslips blow wi' yollow gleäre,
+  Wi' grægles' bells a-droopèn low,
+  An' bremble boughs a-stoopèn low;
+  While culvers in the trees did coo
+    Above the vallèn dew.
+
+  An' there, wi' heäir o' glossy black,
+  Bezide your neck an' down your back,
+  You rambled gaÿ a-bloomèn feäir;
+  By boughs o' maÿ a-bloomèn feäir;
+  An' while the birds did twitter nigh,
+  An' water weäves did glitter nigh,
+  You gather'd cowslips in the lew,
+    Below the vallèn dew.
+
+  An' now, while you've a-been my bride
+  As years o' flow'rs ha' bloom'd an' died,
+  Your smilèn feäce ha' been my jaÿ;
+  Your soul o' greäce ha' been my jaÿ;
+  An' wi' my evenèn rest a-come,
+  An' zunsheen to the west a-come,
+  I'm glad to teäke my road to you
+    Vrom vields o' vallèn dew.
+
+  An' when the raïn do wet the maÿ,
+  A-bloomèn where we woonce did straÿ,
+  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 vallèn 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-smilèn on,
+  An' busy hands a-tweilèn on,
+  You'll vind zome useful work to do
+    Until the vallèn 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-drippèn wet:
+  Below the raïn-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 vaïce 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 vaïce an' feäce
+    In praÿer at eventide,
+  I'll praÿ wi' woone said vaïce vor greäce
+    To goo where you do bide;
+  Above the tree an' bough, my love,
+    Where you be gone avore,
+  An' be a-waïtèn vor me now,
+    To come vor evermwore.
+
+
+
+
+THE THORNS IN THE GEÄTE.
+
+
+  Ah! Meäster Collins overtook
+  Our knot o' vo'k a-stannèn 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-plaÿèn 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-risèn 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-blowèn 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' thornèn 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-springèn 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-passèn onward by the door,
+  A-zent to teäke our jaÿs, 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-stealèn by,
+  Wi' zuns a-ridèn 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' faïth an' love, our païn an' ceäre,
+  We shan't vind missèn jaÿs 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 jaÿs 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 evenèn-tide--My Meärianne.
+
+
+
+
+VO'K A-COMÈN INTO CHURCH.
+
+
+  The church do zeem a touchèn zight,
+    When vo'k, a-comèn in at door,
+    Do softly tread the long-aïl'd vloor
+  Below the pillar'd arches' height,
+      Wi' bells a-pealèn,
+      Vo'k a-kneelèn,
+  Hearts a-healèn, wi' the love
+  An' peäce a-zent em vrom above.
+
+  An' there, wi' mild an' thoughtvul feäce,
+    Wi' downcast eyes, an' vaïces dum',
+    The wold an' young do slowly come,
+  An' teäke in stillness each his pleäce,
+      A-zinkèn slowly,
+      Kneelèn lowly,
+  Seekèn holy thoughts alwone,
+  In praÿ'r avore their Meäker's throne.
+
+  An' there be sons in youthvul pride,
+    An' fathers weak wi' years an' païn,
+    An' daughters in their mother's traïn.
+  The tall wi' smaller at their zide;
+      Heads in murnèn
+      Never turnèn,
+  Cheäks a-burnèn, 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 vaïce is there vor God alwone
+  To flesh an' blood their tongues be tied.
+      Grief a-wringèn,
+      Jaÿ a-zingèn,
+  Pray'r a-bringèn 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 crookèd to the river-zide;
+  I thought how wrong the Stour did zeem
+  To roll along his ramblèn stream,
+  A-runnèn 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' daïly 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 waÿ 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 callèns' 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 plaÿsome 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 zwellèn pillars bore
+  A pworch above the heavy door,
+  Wi' sister sheädes a-reachèn cool
+  Athirt the stwones an' sparklèn 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 gïft ov aïr 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 aïr an' water, an' the light,
+  Be higher gifts, a-reckon'd right,
+  Than all the goold the darksome claÿ
+  Can ever yield to zunny daÿ:
+  But then the aïr 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' mornèn 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 swaÿ, 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 roarèn vier,
+    An! roun' their bwoard, 'ithin the hall;
+  An' there, in glitt'rèn rows, between
+  The roun'-rimm'd pleätes, our knives did sheen,
+    Wi' frothy eäle, an' cup an' can,
+    Vor maïd 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' lovèn looks an' words,
+    An' veed em up wi' bits an' draps;
+  An' smilèn 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 praïse ov England's beef
+    An' vill'd our hearts wi' English pride;
+  An' leafy chaïns o' garlands hung,
+  Wi' dazzlèn 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' smilèn 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' maïd stood up by twos,
+    In rows, drough passage, out to door,
+  An' gaïly beät, wi' nimble shoes,
+    A dance upon the stwonèn 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 sheenèn sky
+  Do vall the sheädes below the copse,
+  The timber-trees, a-reachèn high,
+  Ha' zunsheen on their lofty tops,
+  Where yonder land's a-lyèn plow'd,
+  An' red, below the snow-white cloud,
+  An' vlocks o' pitchèn rooks do vwold
+  Their wings to walk upon the mwold.
+      While floods be low,
+      An' buds do grow,
+          An' aïr do blow, a-broad, O.
+
+  But though the aïr is cwold below
+  The creakèn copses' darksome screen,
+  The truest sheäde do only show
+  How strong the warmer zun do sheen;
+  An' even times o' grief an' païn,
+  Ha' good a-comèn in their traïn,
+  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 hangèn, in the lew,
+  Wi' vurrows now a-crumblèn 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 sheenèn 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 gaïly 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-zettèn, wi' his work a-done,
+  That he, at hwome, mid still injaÿ
+  His happy bit ov evenèn plaÿ,
+      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' vishèn float, that there did zink
+    An' rise, I zot as in a dream.
+  The dazzlèn zun did cast his light
+  On hedge-row blossom, snowy white,
+  Though nothèn yet did come in zight,
+    A-stirrèn on the straÿèn stream;
+
+  Till, out by sheädy rocks there show'd,
+  A bwoat along his foamy road,
+  Wi' thik feäir maïd at mill, a-row'd
+    Wi' Jeäne behind her brother's oars.
+  An' steätely as a queen o' vo'k,
+  She zot wi' floatèn scarlet cloak,
+  An' comèn on, at ev'ry stroke,
+    Between my withy-sheäded shores.
+
+  The broken stream did idly try
+  To show her sheäpe a-ridèn 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 beätèn heart a shock,
+    Above my float's up-leapèn quill.
+
+  Then, lik' a cloud below the skies,
+  A-drifted off, wi' less'nèn 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 faïthful 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' cunnèn 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-windèn round
+  The parrick zide, do run below
+  The grey-stwon'd bridge wi' gurglèn 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 bubblèn shoals,
+  An' warm the doust upon the road,
+  Below the trav'ller's burnèn zoles.
+  An' zome ha' zent us to our bed
+  In grief, an' zome in jaÿ 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 gaïn its end, if 'tis but right.
+
+
+
+
+[Gothic: Eclogue.]
+
+_John an' Thomas._
+
+
+  THOMAS.
+
+  How b'ye, then, John, to-night; an' how
+  Be times a-waggèn on w' ye now?
+  I can't help slackenèn 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 glassèn houses' lewth;
+  But if a man can rear a crop
+  Where win' do blow an' raïn 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 waïgh a pound;
+  An' cabbage wi' its hard white head,
+  An' teäties in their dousty bed,
+  An' carrots big an' straïght 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 païn an' zore.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  An' over hedge the win's a-heärd,
+  A ruslèn drough my barley's beard;
+  An' swaÿen 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-comèn on,
+  The red west sky's a-wearèn wan;
+  Or while woone's wife, wi' busy hands,
+  Avore her vier o' burnèn 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, agwaïn 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 droopèn 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 zoakèn 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-zwellèn
+  Vull o' jaÿ wi' vo'k a-tellèn
+    Any news o' thik wold pleäce,
+  An' the boughy hedges round it,
+  An' the river that do bound it
+    Wi' his dark but glis'nèn 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-growèn,
+  Where the sullen Stour's a-flowèn
+    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-shootèn,
+  I did run on even vootèn,
+    Happy, over new-mow'd land;
+  Or did zing wi' zingèn drushes
+  While I plaïted, 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 vallèn,
+  What sh'ill vaïce is now a-callèn
+    Hwome the deäiry to the païls;
+  Who do dreve em on, a-flingèn
+  Wide-bow'd horns, or slowly zwingèn
+    Right an' left their tufty taïls?
+  As they do goo a-huddled drough
+  The geäte a-leädèn up vrom river.
+
+  Bleäded grass is now a-shootèn
+  Where the vloor wer woonce our vootèn,
+    While the hall wer still in pleäce.
+  Stwones be looser in the wallèn;
+  Hollow trees be nearer vallèn;
+    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 creakèn roller's heft
+    Seal'd down its lowly head,
+  Sprung sheäkèn drough the crumblèn mwold,
+    Green-yollow, vrom below,
+  An' bent its bleädes, a-glitt'rèn 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 screamèn 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-champèn meäre,
+  Wi' thankvul heart, to zee his crop
+    A-comèn up so feäir.
+        As there awhile
+        By geäte or stile,
+        He gi'ed the chile
+        A cheerèn smile,
+  By crowns o' Do'set Downs, O.
+
+  At last, wi' eärs o' darksome red,
+    The yollow stalks did ply,
+  A-swaÿèn slow, so heavy 's lead,
+    In aïr a-blowèn by;
+  An' then the busy reapers laid
+    In row their russlèn grips,
+  An' sheäves, a-leänèn head by head,
+    Did meäke the stitches tips.
+        Zoo food's a-vound,
+        A-comèn 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 cracklèn 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-stealèn round,
+  When northern winds, by starry night,
+  Do stop in ice the river's flight;
+  Or brooks in winter raïns do zwell,
+  Lik' rollèn seas athirt the dell;
+  Or trickle thin in zummer-tide;
+  Among the mossy stwones half dried;
+  But still, below the zun or moon,
+  The feàrest 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 feaïr,
+  An' gil'cups wi' their yollow gleäre,
+  Be all a-match'd avore my zight
+  By wheelèn buttervlees in flight,
+  The while the burnèn zun at noon
+  Do sheen upon my meäd in June.
+
+  An' there do zing the swingèn lark
+  So gaÿ'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 raïn on my young grass,
+  An' aïr 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 bloomèn rwose do ride
+  Upon the boughy hedge's zide,
+  We haymeäkers, in snow-white sleeves,
+  Do work in sheädes o' quiv'rèn leaves,
+  In afternoon, a-liftèn 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-bendèn in a bow,
+  An' vish, wi' zides o' zilver-white,
+  Do flash vrom shoals a dazzlèn light;
+  An' alders by the water's edge,
+  Do sheäde the ribbon-bleäded zedge,
+  An' where, below the withy's head,
+  The zwimmèn 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-flowèn wide
+  Above all other vields bezide;
+  Vor all the zun above my ground
+  'S a-zent vor all the naïghbours round,
+  An' raïn 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 RISÈN.
+
+
+  The aïr to gi'e your cheäks a hue
+  O' rwosy red, so feaïr to view,
+  Is what do sheäke the grass-bleädes gray
+  At breäk o' day, in mornèn dew;
+  Vor vo'k that will be rathe abrode,
+  Will meet wi' health upon their road.
+
+  But bidèn 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 sparklèn ov the eyes.
+
+  Vor health do weäke vrom nightly dreams
+  Below the mornèn's eärly beams,
+  An' leäve the dead-aïr'd houses' eaves,
+  Vor quiv'rèn leaves, an' bubblèn streams,
+  A-glitt'rèn 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 jaÿs 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 paÿ 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 beholdèn 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 païn wer a-zet wi' my gaïn,
+      I should paÿ 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 straïghten 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 jaÿ 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-washèn water do pass,
+  Then wi' they jaÿs 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 plaÿ,
+    An' good rest when the body do tire,
+  Vor the mind a good conscience, wi' hope or wi' jaÿ,
+    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 zellèn woone's honey to buy zome'hat sweet.
+
+
+
+
+DOBBIN DEAD.
+
+_Thomas_ (1) _an' John_ (2) _a-ta'èn 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-rustèn, 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-veedèn in Westergap Leäne;
+     An' there he must needs goo a-riggèn, 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 shelvèn bank-zide,
+     An' at langth lost his vootèn, 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-meäkèn 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-smwolderèn avore
+  The back, to warm the stwonèn 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 zwarmèn 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-buildèn 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 nothèn 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 raïn, if do hold up or vall;
+  There is nothèn vrom mornèn 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 burnèn the child,
+  An' het it among the cat's heaïrs;
+  An' then beät the cat, a-run wild,
+  Wi' a spark on her back up the steaïrs:
+  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 scaldèn 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-vleèn 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 jaÿ--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' naïghbours 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 maïd 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-glitterèn bright,
+  As he wheel'd on above, in the zun's evenèn 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-sheäkèn, wi' red-twiggèd tops.
+  Vor the dry-flowèn wind, had a-blow'd off the drops
+    O' the raïn, at the turn o' the days.
+
+  There the stream did run on, in the sheäde o' the hill,
+  So smooth in his flowèn, 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 straïght as the zunbeams, a-shot drough the bough
+    O' the tree at the turn o' the days.
+
+  Then the boomèn wold clock in the tower did mark
+  His vive hours, avore the cool evenèn wer dark,
+  An' ivy did glitter a-clung round the bark
+    O' the tree, at the turn o' the days.
+  An' womèn a-fraïd o' the road in the night,
+  Wer a-heästenèn on to reach hwome by the light,
+  A-castèn 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-zingèn anew,
+    In the boughs, at the turn o' the days.
+  An' young vo'k a-laughèn 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 Gaÿ, 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 paÿ 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 chaïce,
+    Went roun' vrom tongue to tongue, min,
+  Then Gammon pitch'd his merry vaïce,
+    An' here's the zong he zung, min.
+
+  _Zong._
+
+  If you'll but let your clackers rest
+    Vrom jabberèn an' hootèn,
+  I'll teäke my turn, an' do my best,
+    To zing o' sparrow shootèn.
+  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 haïl
+    Till ev'ry foe's a-vled, lads,
+  An' though the rogues mid all turn taïl,
+    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 Gaÿ 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 meetèn 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 naïghbours would cry
+  He do laugh where the rest o's would sigh:
+  Noo other's so merry o' feäce,
+  In the pleäce, as Gammony Gaÿ.
+
+  An' o' workèn 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 glissenèn 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 Gaÿ.
+
+  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 Gaÿ.
+
+  An' when he do whissel or hum,
+  'Ithout thinkèn o' what he's a-doèn,
+  He'll beät his own lags vor a drum,
+  An' bob his gaÿ head to the tuèn;
+  An' then you mid zee, 'etween whiles,
+  His feäce all alive wi' his smiles,
+  An' his gaÿ-breathèn bozom do rise,
+  An' his me'th do sheen out ov his eyes:
+  An' at last to have praïse or have bleäme,
+  Is the seäme to Gammony Gaÿ.
+
+  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 crackèn 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 Gaÿ.
+
+  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-leädèn 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 Gaÿ.
+
+  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 Gaÿ.
+
+  All the house-dogs do waggle their taïls,
+  If they do but catch zight ov his feäce;
+  An' the ho'ses do look over raïls,
+  An' do whicker to zee'n at the pleäce;
+  An' he'll always bestow a good word
+  On a cat or a whisselèn bird;
+  An' even if culvers do coo,
+  Or an owl is a-cryèn "Hoo, hoo,"
+  Where he is, there's always a joke
+  To be spoke, by Gammony Gaÿ.
+
+
+
+
+THE HEARE.
+
+(_Dree o'm a-ta'kèn 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-meäkèn for the drong.
+  (2) My goodness! How the dogs do zweep along,
+      A-pokèn 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' hobnaïl shoes.
+  (1) He's geäme a runnèn 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
+      Agwaïn 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-scotèn 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' catchèn 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'jerèn 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-fightèn foes that werden there.
+
+  Poor Nanny Gill did goo to zell
+  In town her glitt'rèn 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-gleamèn bright,
+    An' men agwaïn 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-pullèn, wi' a scream an' grin,
+  Her wold brown raïns 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-cryèn, "Oh! la! dear!" in fright,
+  The while her ho'se did plaÿ sham fight.
+
+
+
+
+MOONLIGHT ON THE DOOR.
+
+
+  A-swaÿèn slow, the poplar's head,
+    Above the slopèn 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-boomèn deep, did slowly sound
+    The bell, a-tellèn middle night;
+  The while the quiv'rèn ivy, round
+    The tree, did sheäke in softest light.
+  But vootless wer the stwone avore
+    The house where I, the maïdens guest,
+    At evenèn, woonce did zit at rest
+  By moonlight on the door.
+
+  Though till the dawn, where night's a-meäde
+    The day, the laughèn crowds be gaÿ,
+  Let evenèn zink wi' quiet sheäde,
+    Where I do hold my little swaÿ.
+  An' childern dear to my heart's core,
+    A-sleep wi' little heavèn breast,
+    That pank'd by day in plaÿ, 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 vaïn, vor heedless men,
+    The road, the vield, the work in hand.
+  When curtains be a-hung avore
+    The glitt'rèn 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-aïr'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 staÿ'd,
+  Dark in the moonlight, bough's sheädows plaÿ'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 naïseless 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' milkèn vo'k did teäke their stools,
+  In evenèn 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 foamèn stream did roar,
+  An' up in mill the floatèn meal
+  Did pitch upon the sheäkèn vloor.
+  We then could vind but vew han's still,
+  Or veet a-restèn 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 drippèn wheel at rest,
+  An' leaves upon the poplar-tree
+  Wer dark avore the glowèn west;
+  An' when the clock, a-ringèn sh'ill,
+  Did slowly beät zome evenèn hour,
+  Oh! then 'ithin the leafy bow'r
+  Our tongues did run at Leeburn Mill.
+
+  An' when November's win' did blow,
+  Wi' hufflèn storms along the plaïn,
+  An' blacken'd leaves did lie below
+  The neäked tree, a-zoak'd wi' raïn,
+  I werden at a loss to vill
+  The darkest hour o' raïny 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 mowèn,
+  We've an ox or two we'th showèn,
+        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-roamèn,
+    An' ha' business at a farm,
+  Then woont ye zee your eäle a-foamèn!
+    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 shillèn,
+    Shillèn's wo'th at any shop,
+  Though Do'set chaps be up to zellèn,
+    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 maïdens, 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 windèn leänes o' gravel,
+    To the markets or the feäirs,--
+  Though their ho'ses cwoats be ragged,
+  Though the men be muddy-laggèd,
+        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 smilèn feäce so dim;
+  Your little sister there, inside,
+    Wi' bellows on her little knee,
+  Did blow the vier, a-glearèn wide
+    Drough window-peänes, that I could zee,--
+  As you did stan' wi' me, avore
+  The house, a-peärten,--woone smile mwore.
+
+  The chatt'rèn birds, a-risèn high,
+    An' zinkèn low, did swiftly vlee
+  Vrom shrinkèn moss, a-growèn dry,
+    Upon the leänèn apple tree.
+  An' there the dog, a-whippèn wide
+    His heäiry taïl, an' comèn near,
+  Did fondly lay ageän your zide
+    His coal-black nose an' russet ear:
+  To win what I'd a-won avore,
+  Vrom your gaÿ feäce, his woone smile mwore.
+
+  An' while your mother bustled sprack,
+    A-gettèn supper out in hall,
+  An' cast her sheäde, a-whiv'rèn black
+    Avore the vier, upon the wall;
+  Your brother come, wi' easy peäce,
+    In drough the slammèn geäte, along
+  The path, wi' healthy-bloomèn feäce,
+    A-whis'lèn 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' pinchèn need:
+  An' vind that you ha' still in store,
+  My evenèn 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 vaïce 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 gaÿ 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 aïr
+    A-mockèn mother's vaïce so thin,
+  "Come, now the bell do goo vor praÿ'r"
+                                --_vor pray'r_;
+  "'Tis time to goo to church; come in"
+                                --_come in_.
+
+  The night when little Anne, that died,
+    Begun to zickèn, back in Maÿ,
+  An' she, at dusk ov evenèn-tide,
+    Wer out wi' others at their plaÿ,
+  Within the churchyard that do keep
+    Her little bed, the vaïce o' thin
+  Dark aïr, 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-païnted cart,
+    The while the wheels begun to spin,
+  An' her gaÿ nods, vor all she smil'd,
+    Did sheäke a tear-drop vrom each eye,
+  The vaïce 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-croodlèn loud,
+    The bwoy a-screamèn wild in plaÿ,
+  The tall grown youth a-steppèn proud,
+    The father staïd, the house's staÿ.
+      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 plaÿ,
+  Do leäve noo tool, but drop a taÿ,
+  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 faïthvul 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 lovèn maïd an' merry son,
+  Though each in turn's a jaÿ 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 jaÿ betide the dear wold mill,
+    My naïghbour plaÿmeätes' happy hwome,
+  Wi' rollèn wheel, an' leäpèn foam,
+    Below the overhangèn 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' whirlèn stwone, an' streamèn flour,
+  Did goo the mill by cloty Stour.
+
+  An' there in geämes by evenèn skies,
+    When Meäry zot her down to rest,
+  The broach upon her pankèn breast,
+    Did quickly vall an' lightly rise,
+        While swans did zwim
+        In steätely trim.
+  An' swifts did skim the water, bright
+  Wi' whirlèn froth, in western light;
+  An' clack, clack, clack, that happy hour,
+  Wi' whirlèn stwone, an' streamèn flour,
+  Did goo the mill by cloty Stour.
+
+  Now mortery jeints, in streaks o' white,
+    Along the geärdèn wall do show
+  In Maÿ, an' cherry boughs do blow,
+    Wi' bloomèn tutties, snowy white,
+        Where rollèn round,
+        Wi' rumblèn sound,
+  The wheel woonce drown'd the vaïce so dear
+  To me. I faïn would goo to hear
+  The clack, clack, clack, vor woone short hour,
+  Wi' whirlèn stwone, an' streamèn flour,
+  Bezide the mill on cloty Stour.
+
+  But should I vind a-heavèn now
+    Her breast wi' aïr o' thik dear pleäce?
+  Or zee dark locks by such a brow,
+    Or het o' plaÿ on such a feäce?
+        No! She's now staïd,
+        An' where she plaÿ'd,
+  There's noo such maïd that now ha' took
+  The pleäce that she ha' long vorsook,
+  Though clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour,
+  Wi' whirlèn stwone an' streamèn 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' whirlèn stwone, an' streamèn flour,
+  Did goo his mill by cloty Stour.
+
+
+
+
+THE LARK.
+
+
+   As I, below the mornèn sky,
+    Wer out a workèn in the lew
+  O' black-stemm'd thorns, a-springèn high,
+    Avore the worold-boundèn blue,
+  A-reäkèn, 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' flappèn wings,
+    Tho' mwore in heärèn than in zight;
+  The while my bwoys, in plaÿvul me'th,
+  Did run till they wer out o' breath.
+
+  Then woone, wi' han'-besheäded eyes,
+    A-stoppèn still, as he did run,
+  Look'd up to zee the lark arise
+    A-zingèn 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, dazzlèn 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' aïr did swaÿ, 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-cheemèn 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-drownèn 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 jaÿs 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-spreadèn,
+          Green-ruddy, in hedges,
+  Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
+          A-dried at Woak Hill;
+
+  I packed up my goods all a-sheenèn
+          Wi' long years o' handlèn,
+  On dousty red wheels ov a waggon,
+          To ride at Woak Hill.
+
+  The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellèn,
+          I then wer a-leävèn,
+  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 vloorèn.
+  Too soon vor my jaÿ 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-riddèn,
+          To bide at Woak Hill--
+
+  I call'd her so fondly, wi' lippèns
+          All soundless to others,
+  An' took her wi' aïr-reachèn hand,
+          To my zide at Woak Hill.
+
+  On the road I did look round, a-talkèn
+          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-wandrèn
+  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' chirpèn birds;
+  As down the west the zun went wan,
+  An' days brought on our Zunday's rest,
+  When sounds o' cheemèn bells did vill
+  The aïr, an' hook an' axe wer stïll.
+
+  Along the wold town-path vo'k went,
+    An' met unknown, or friend wi' friend,
+  The maïd her busy mother zent,
+    The mother wi' noo maïd to zend;
+  An' in the light the gleäzier's glass,
+  As he did pass, wer dazzlèn bright,
+  Or woone went by wï' down-cast head,
+  A wrapp'd in blackness vor the dead.
+
+  An' then the bank, wi' risèn back,
+    That's now a-most a-troddèn 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-slammèn 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 mornèn flow'rs or evenèn dew,
+    Or slam the woakèn 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 maïd ov all maïdens,
+    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-rollèn wind blow me hither,
+    The väice ov her talkèn,
+  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 gaÿ birds, up bezide her,
+    In drong-waÿ, an' woodlands,
+  O zing, swingèn lark, now the clouds,
+    Be a-vled in the Spring.
+
+  An' who, you mid ax, be my praïses
+    A-meäkèn so much o',
+  An' oh! 'tis the maïd I'm a-hopèn
+    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 aïr did softly blow
+      On the flowèn 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' evenèn's cwold.
+
+  But, oh! so cwold below the darksome cloud
+      Soon the night-wind roar'd,
+  Wi' raïny storms that zent the zwollèn streams
+      Over ev'ry vword.
+  The while the drippèn 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 mornèn sky;
+  An' roun' the woak, the wind a-blowèn weak,
+      Softly whiver'd by.
+  Though drown'd wer still the deaïsy 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 faïth is true
+      Jaÿ mid end in tears,
+  An' hope, woonce feäir, mid saddèn 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 awaÿ,
+  Some higher jaÿ 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 swingèn 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 hufflèn winds did sheäke the zedge
+  An' sparklèn weäves did glide.
+
+  An' where the river, bend by bend,
+  Do dräin our meäd, an' mark its end,
+  The hangèn leäze do teäke our cows,
+  An' trees do sheäde em wi' their boughs,
+  An' I the quicker beät the road,
+    To zee a-comèn 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 runnèn brooks,
+      An' vleèn 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' jaÿvul sounds,
+  Sprung in an' cried, "We had a run,
+    A-plaÿèn heäre an' hounds;
+  But oh! the cowslips where we stopt
+    In Maÿcreech, 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 tryèn 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 jaÿ; O grounds,
+      An' bird's gaÿ 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-mwoldrèn to the zunny sky.
+
+  An' there wi' Jenny took a stroll
+    Her youngest sister, Poll, so gaÿ,
+  Bezide John Hind, ah! merry soul,
+    An' mid her wedlock faÿ;
+  An' at our zides did play an' run
+  My little maïd 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'rèn white;
+  An' corn, a sheenèn bright, did bow,
+  On slopèn Meldon's zunny brow.
+
+  There, down the rufless wall did glow
+    The zun upon the grassy vloor,
+  An' weakly-wandrèn 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-flappèn vrom their ivy bow'rs;
+  My wife did watch my maïd'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 livèn 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 Racketèn 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 maïd in all the feäir.
+
+  JEÄNE.
+
+  Now look, an' tell us who's a-spied
+  Vrom Sturminster, or Manston zide.
+
+  HER BROTHER.
+
+  There's rantèn Joe! How he do stalk,
+  An' zwang his whip, an' laugh, an' talk!
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  An' how his head do wag, avore his steppèn 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?
+
+  RACKETÈN 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-racèn?
+
+  RACKETÈN JOE.
+
+                               Who?
+  Zome silly chap abackèn you.
+  Well, now, an' how do vo'k treat Jeäne?
+
+  JEÄNE.
+
+  Why not wi' feärèns.
+
+  RACKETÈN 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!
+
+  RACKETÈN 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-slippèn 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.
+
+  RACKETÈN 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 nothèn 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 becomèn 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 yelpèn 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 staïd,
+  An' the apple tree lower did droop.
+    Out in the orcha'd where we had a-plaÿ'd,
+  There wer zome things a-seemèn the seäme,
+    But Meäry's a-married awaÿ.
+
+  There wer two little childern a-zent,
+    Wi' a message to me, oh! so feaïr
+  As the mother that they did zoo ment,
+    When in childhood she plaÿ'd wi' me there.
+  Zoo they twold me that if I would come
+    Down to Coomb, I should zee a wold friend,
+  Vor a plaÿmeäte o' mine wer at hwome,
+    An' would staÿ till another week's end.
+  At the dear pworchèd door, could I dare
+    To zee Meäry a-married awaÿ!
+
+  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-hangèn 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 Maÿ sky;
+  But the bud on the bed, coulden bide,
+    Wi' young Meäry a-married awaÿ.
+
+  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'rèn, 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 awaÿ.
+
+
+
+
+PICKEN O' SCROFF.
+
+
+  Oh! the wood wer a-vell'd in the copse,
+    An' the moss-bedded primrwose did blow;
+  An' vrom tall-stemmèd trees' leafless tops,
+    There did lie but slight sheädes down below.
+  An' the sky wer a-showèn, 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 burnèn, well wo'th reäkèn off,
+  By the childern a-pickèn o' scroff.
+
+  In the tree-studded leäze, where the woak
+    Wer a-spreadèn his head out around,
+  There the scrags that the wind had a-broke,
+    Wer a-lyèn about on the ground
+  Or the childern, wi' little red hands,
+  Wer a-tyèn em up in their bands;
+  Vor noo squier or farmer turn'd off
+  Little childern a-pickèn o' scroff.
+
+  There wer woone bloomèn 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 plaÿ, vor to taït,
+  On a woak-limb, a-growèn out straïght.
+  But she soon wer a-taïted down off,
+  By her meätes out a-pickèn o' scroff.
+
+  When they childern do grow to staïd 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 touchèn to bring,
+  To their minds, the sweet springs o' their spring,
+  Back avore the new vo'k did turn off
+  The poor childern a-pickèn 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 maïd,
+  Come vor my day's last zight,
+  Zun-brighten'd maïd "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-comèn 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' burnèn 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' watershootèn 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 maïd avore the spring,
+    An' shepherd by the thornèn 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 jaÿ,
+  Shall be a-miss'd another Maÿ.
+
+  My childern here, in plaÿvul pride
+    Did zit 'ithin his wooden walls,
+  A-mentèn 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-whislèn 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'rèn life should run,
+    Drough years a-reckoned ten by ten,
+  Below the never-tirèn 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 jaÿ or païn, be païn or jaÿ?
+
+  When Zunday then, a-weänèn dim,
+    As theäse that now's a-clwosèn still,
+  Mid lose the zun's down-zinkèn 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-vlockèn by, but shoulden hear,
+  However near, a voot or tongue:
+        Mid zuch a zight,
+        In that soft light
+  Be jaÿ or païn, be païn or jaÿ.
+
+  If I should zee among em all,
+    In merry youth, a-glidèn 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-chattèn loud,
+  So dumb's a cloud, in that bright pleäce:
+        Would youth so feäir,
+        A-passèn there,
+  Be jaÿ or païn, be païn or jaÿ.
+
+  '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' livèn gifts o' youth do vall,
+  Vrom girt to small, but never die:
+        An' should I view,
+        What God mid do,
+  Wi' jaÿ or païn, wi' païn or jaÿ?
+
+
+
+
+THE RWOSE IN THE DARK.
+
+
+  In zummer, leäte at evenèn 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-risèn to her comely height,
+    She push'd the swingèn ceäsement round;
+  And I could hear, beyond my zight,
+    The win'-blow'd beech-tree softly sound,
+  On higher ground, a-swayèn slow,
+  On drough my happy hour below.
+
+  An' tho' the darkness then did hide
+    The dewy rwose's blushèn bloom,
+  He still did cast sweet aïr inside
+    To Jeäne, a-chattèn in the room;
+  An' though the gloom did hide her feäce,
+  Her words did bind me to the pleäce.
+
+  An' there, while she, wi' runnèn 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 mornèn light.
+
+
+
+
+COME.
+
+
+  Wull ye come in eärly Spring,
+  Come at Easter, or in Maÿ?
+  Or when Whitsuntide mid bring
+  Longer light to show your waÿ?
+  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' vaïce to vaïce 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 plaÿsome flight,
+  Do blow on vields in noon-day light,
+  Or ruslèn trees, in twilight night.
+         Sweet's a stroll,
+  By flow'ry knowl, or blue-feäcèd pool
+  That zummer win's do ruffle cool.
+
+  When the moon's broad light do vill
+  Plaïns, a-sheenèn down the hill;
+  A-glitterèn on window glass,
+  O then, while zummer win's do pass
+  The rippled brook, an' swaÿèn grass,
+        Sweet's a walk,
+  Where we do talk, wi' feäces bright,
+  In whispers in the peacevul night.
+
+  When the swaÿèn men do mow
+  Flow'ry grass, wi' zweepèn blow,
+  In het a-most enough to dry
+  The flat-spread clote-leaf that do lie
+  Upon the stream a-stealèn by,
+        Sweet's their rest,
+  Upon the breast o' knap or mound
+  Out where the goocoo's vaïce do sound.
+
+  Where the sleek-heäir'd maïd do zit
+  Out o' door to zew or knit,
+  Below the elem where the spring
+  'S a-runnèn, 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 gaÿ is she below the tree.
+
+  Come, O zummer wind, an' bring
+  Sounds o' birds as they do zing,
+  An' bring the smell o' bloomèn maÿ,
+  An' bring the smell o' new-mow'd haÿ;
+  Come fan my feäce as I do straÿ,
+        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-aïr'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-flittèn by, at Meldonley.
+
+  An' there, the while the tree did sheäde
+  Their gigglèn 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-sheäkèn 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-pankèn zides, do bite
+  My thymy grass, a-mark'd vor me
+    In black, T. D., at Meldonley.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW HOUSE A-GETTÈN 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' raïn-bred moss ha' staïn'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-shrinkèn to a patch o' red,
+    Did feäde so soft's the evenèn sky:
+  The evenèn 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 stalkèn team,
+    An' dry-rimm'd waggon-wheels be still,
+  An' hills do roll their down-shot stream
+    Below the restèn 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 sheenèn 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 aïer 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 walkèn stick or sister's book;
+  An' there the bloomèn 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 vaïce a-soundèn sweet an' young,
+  That meäde me veel awhile to zwim
+  In weäves o' jaÿ 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' stwonèn 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 maïd whose hymn
+  Woonce meäde my giddy braïn to zwim,
+  A-zittèn 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 gaÿ '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-glidèn 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 rejaïce,
+  Yet sweet did sound her zongless vaïce.
+      But had she, in her woe,
+  The higher steäte she had o' leäte
+  'Ithin the lofty pillar'd geäte,
+  Wi' stwonèn 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 vaïce,
+  Had ever been my wedded chaïce;
+  An' then I thought, why do I mwope
+  Alwone without a jaÿ 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 gleämèn 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 Maÿ
+  Did warm the passèn year, an' gleam
+  Upon the yellow-grounded stream,
+  That still by beech-tree sheädes do straÿ.
+  The light o' weäves, a-runnèn there,
+    Did plaÿ on leaves up over head,
+  An' vishes sceäly zides did gleäre,
+    A-dartèn on the shallow bed,
+  An' like the stream a-slidèn 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 glowèn warm wer ev'ry brow,
+    O' maïd, or man, in zummer het,
+  An' warm did glow the cheäks I met
+    That time, noo mwore to meet em now.
+  As brooks, a-slidèn on their bed,
+  My season-measur'd time's a-vled.
+
+  Vrom yonder window, in the thatch,
+  Did sound the maïdens' merry words,
+  As I did stand, by zingèn 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-mentèn 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-risèn 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 deaïsy beds,
+  An' snow-white lilies noddèn heads,
+  Sweet Linda Deäne did walk in white;
+  But ah! avore too high a door,
+  Wer Linda Deäne ov Ellendon.
+
+  When sparklèn brooks an' grassy ground,
+  By keen-aïr'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' sheenèn blue o' glisnèn eyes,
+  An' feaïrest blossoms do but show
+  Her forehead's white, an' feäce's glow;
+  But there's a winsome jaÿ 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 Maïd at Feäir._
+
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  Zoo here be your childern, a-sheärèn
+  Your feäir-day, an' each wi' a feäirèn.
+
+  WILLIAM.
+
+  Aye, well, there's noo peace 'ithout comèn
+  To stannèn 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 raïn's glowèn 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 mowèn 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 innèns 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 "Huntèn 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-thinkèn 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-reachèn high,
+  The while their lower limbs do zweep
+    The river-stream a-flowèn by;
+  By grægle bells in beds o' blue,
+  Below the tree-stems in the lew,
+  Calm aïr do vind the rwose-bound door,
+  Ov Ellen Dare o' Lindenore.
+
+  An' there noo foam do hiss avore
+    Swift bwoats, wi' water-plowèn keels,
+  An' there noo broad high-road's a-wore
+    By vur-brought trav'lers' cracklèn wheels;
+  Noo crowd's a-passèn 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 shiftèn 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 stwonèn 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 jaÿ to zee an' hear their fun,
+  But sweeter jaÿ 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' frownèn 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 jaÿ, 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 mornèn zun an' evenèn 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-glisnèn 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-aïr'd nights o' June;
+  The while her lids, wi' bendèn streäks
+  O' lashes, met above her cheäks,
+      A-bloomèn 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 weddèn night in June;
+  Wi' heart that beät wi' hope an' fear,
+  While on each eye-lash hung a tear,
+      A-glisnèn to the moon.
+
+  Think how her father zot all dum',
+  A-thinkèn on her, back at hwome,
+  The while grey axan gather'd thick,
+  On dyèn 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 raïn-drops on a slender twig,
+      A-glisnèn to the moon.
+
+  Zoo don't zit thoughtless at your cup
+  An' keep your wife a-wäitèn up,
+  The while the clock's a-tickèn slow
+  The chilly hours o' vrost an' snow,
+  Until the zinkèn candle's light
+  Is out avore her drowsy sight,
+      A-dimm'd wi' grief too soon;
+  A-leävèn there alwone to murn
+  The feädèn cheäk that woonce did burn,
+      A-bloomèn 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-dryèn 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-swingèn 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-zweltrèn 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-trippèn maïd come along,--
+    Aye, a girl wi' her light-steppèn veet.
+
+  An' she cried "I do praÿ, 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 steppèn 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 zunrisèn 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 winnèn, 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 aïr 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 paÿ,
+  An' then zit down below
+    My own wi' jaÿ.
+
+
+
+
+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 swaÿèn boughs;
+  An' let me end, as I begun,
+  My days in oben aïr an' zun,
+  Where zummer win's a-blowèn sweet,
+  Wi' blooth o' trees as white's a sheet;
+  Or swaÿèn boughs, a-bendèn low
+  Wi' rip'nèn apples in a row,
+  An' we a-risèn rathe do meet
+  The bright'nèn 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 aïr do blow, wi' leäzy peäce
+  To cool, in sheäde, their burnèn feäce.
+  Where leaves o' spreadèn 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 aïr an' zun.
+
+
+
+
+WHAT JOHN WER A-TELLÈN 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 scratchèn 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 aïr a-streamèn 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' traïl'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 maïd, a dear,
+    Your childhood's very daps, is here,
+  Zoo let her staÿ, 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 sleepèn 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 awaÿ 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 milkmaïd hung her brow
+  By the cow, a-sheenèn 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-blowèn blast,
+  Here do cast vrom elems' heads
+  Feäded leaves, a-whirlèn round,
+  Down to ground, in yollow beds,
+  Ruslèn 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.]
+
+RACKETÈN JOE.
+
+
+_Racketèn Joe; his Sister; his Cousin Fanny; and the Dog._
+
+
+  RACKETÈN JOE.
+
+  Heigh! heigh! here. Who's about?
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+  Oh! lauk! Here's Joe, a rantèn lout,
+
+  A-meäkèn his wild randy-rout.
+
+  RACKETÈN JOE.
+
+  Heigh! Fanny! How d'ye do? (_slaps her._)
+
+  FANNY.
+
+  Oh! fie; why all the woo'se vor you
+  A-slappèn 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-comèn up the drong,
+  How he did smack his leather thong,
+  A-zingèn, as he thought, a zong;
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+  An' there the pigs did scote
+  Azide, in fright, wi' squeakèn droat,
+  Wi' geese a pitchèn up a note.
+  Look there.
+
+  FANNY.
+
+               His chair!
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+                            He thump'd en down,
+  As if he'd het en into ground.
+
+  RACKETÈN 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.
+
+  RACKETÈN JOE.
+
+  My hat's awore so quaer.
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+  'Tis quaer enough, but not wi' wear;
+  But dabs an' dashes he do bear.
+
+  RACKETÈN JOE.
+
+  The zow!
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+           What now?
+
+  RACKETÈN JOE.
+
+                     She's in the plot.
+  A-routèn 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.
+
+  RACKETÈN JOE.
+
+  She's out.
+
+  FANNY.
+
+              Noo doubt.
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+                          Athirt the bank,
+  Look! how the dog an' he do pank.
+
+  FANNY.
+
+  Staÿ 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 naïghbours thought her,
+  While the zun, wi' evenèn beams,
+    Did cast our sheädes athirt the water;
+          Winds a-blowèn,
+          Streams a-flowèn,
+          Skies a-glowèn,
+  Tokens ov my jaÿ zoo fleetèn,
+  Heighten'd it, that happy meetèn.
+
+  Then, when maïd an' man took pleäces,
+   Gaÿ in winter's Chris'mas dances,
+  Showèn in their merry feäces
+    Kindly smiles an' glisnèn glances;
+          Stars a-winkèn,
+          Day a-shrinkèn,
+          Sheädes a-zinkèn,
+  Brought anew the happy meetèn,
+  That did meake the night too fleetèn.
+
+
+
+
+TO ME.
+
+
+  At night, as drough the meäd I took my waÿ,
+  In aïr a-sweeten'd by the new-meäde haÿ,
+  A stream a-vallèn 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 evenèn darkness, an' the risèn hill,
+  Kept all the quiv'rèn leaves unshown to me,
+
+  Within the copse, below the zunless sky,
+  I heärd a nightèngeäle, a-warblèn high
+  Her lwoansome zong, a-hidden vrom my zight,
+  An' showèn nothèn 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-comèn 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-saïl'd bwoat,
+  Vur off, beyond the stragglèn cows in meäd,
+  But zent noo vaïce, athirt the ground, to me.
+
+  An' then a buttervlee, in zultry light,
+  A-wheelèn on about me, vier-bright,
+  Did show the gaÿest colors to my eye,
+  But still did bring noo vaïce 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-sheddèn out his light
+  On yollow corn a-weävèn down below
+    His yollow glow, is gaÿ avore the zight.
+      By two an' two,
+      How goodly things do goo,
+    A-matchèn woone another to fulvill
+    The goodness ov their Meäkèr's will.
+
+  How bright the spreadèn water in the lew
+    Do catch the blue, a-sheenèn 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 aïr'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-workèn 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 raïn 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 unmolestèn me a-restèn,
+      Where I laÿ '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 vaïceless thought
+  Ov other zummer-tides, that brought
+  The sheenèn grass below the lark,
+  Or left their ricks a-wearèn 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-lyèn 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-blinkèn quick, wi' lashes long,
+    Above her cheäks o' red,
+  Ageän the wind, a-beätèn strong,
+    Upon her droopèn head.
+
+  Oh! let dry win' blow bleäk,
+    On her cheäk so heäle,
+  But let noo raïn-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 gaïn,
+  Nor meäke my merry Jenny pine
+    At last wi' dim-ey'd païn.
+
+
+
+
+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 mwoldrèn door
+    'S a tóken 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 haulèn
+    Now vrom grey's a-feäded dark,
+  An' off the barken raïl's a-vallèn,
+    Day by day, the rottèn bark.--
+  But short's the time our works do stand,
+  So feäir's we put em out ov hand,
+  Vor time a-passèn, wet an' dry,
+  Do spweïl em wi' his changèn sky,
+  The while wi' strivèn hope, we men,
+    Though a-ruèn time's undoèn,
+  Still do tweil an' tweil ageän.
+
+  In wall-zide sheädes, by leafy bowers,
+    Underneath the swayèn tree,
+  O' leäte, as round the bloomèn 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,
+  Bezïde the flower's dousty bed,
+  An' though their work wer idle then,
+    They a-smilèn, an' a-tweilèn,
+  Still did work an' work ageän.
+
+  Now their little limbs be stronger,
+    Deeper now their vaïce 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-growèn
+    Cwold as dew below the stars,
+  An' when the vier noo mwore's a-glowèn
+    Red between the window bars,
+  We then do lay our weary heads
+  In peace upon their nightly beds,
+  An' gi'e woone sock, wi' heavèn 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 vaïce o' the winds is mildest,
+    In the plaïn, their stroke is keen;
+  Where their dreatnèn vaïce is wildest,
+    In the grove, the grove's our screen.
+  An' where the worold in their strife
+  Do dreatèn 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 haïl 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' weästèn life's slow-beatèn track.
+
+  When feädèn leaves do drip wi' raïn,
+    Our thoughts can ramble in the dry;
+  When Winter win' do zweep the plaïn
+    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 païn our thoughts can pass to eäse,
+    In work our souls can be at plaÿ,
+  An' leäve behind the chilly leäse
+    Vor warm-aïr'd meäds o' new mow'd haÿ.
+  When we do vlee in Fancy's flight
+    Vrom daily ills avore our feäce,
+    An' linger in zome happy pleäce
+  Ov mè'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-heavèn,
+  While vrom zide to zide, wi' grievèn,
+  Vell her head, wi' tears a-creepèn
+  Down her cheäks, in bitter weepèn.
+  There wer still the ribbon-bow
+  She tied avore her hour ov woe,
+  An' there wer still the han's that tied it
+          Hangèn white,
+          Or wringèn tight,
+  In ceäre that drown'd all ceäre bezide it.
+
+  When a man, wi' heartless slightèn,
+  Mid become a maïden's blightèn,
+  He mid ceärlessly vorseäke her,
+  But must answer to her Meäker;
+  He mid slight, wi' selfish blindness,
+  All her deeds o' lovèn-kindness,
+  God wull waïgh em wi' the slightèn
+  That mid be her love's requitèn;
+  He do look on each deceiver,
+          He do know
+          What weight o' woe
+  Do breäk the heart ov ev'ry griever.
+
+
+
+
+EVENÈN 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, arisèn 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 evenèn dusk did gather slow;
+    But bright did gleäre the twinklèn spwokes
+    O' runnèn 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-sheenèn vrom the eastern skies
+  To brighten up the rwose-borne dew;
+    But still his lingrèn light did gi'e
+    My heart a touchèn jaÿ, to zee
+  His beams a-shed, wi' stratchèn sheäde,
+    On east-ward wall an' tree.
+
+  When jaÿ, a-zent me vrom above,
+    Vrom my sad heart is now agone,
+   An' others be a-walkèn on,
+  Amid the light ov Heavèn's love,
+    Oh! then vor lovèn-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' slightèns,
+  When our daily deeds be guileless,
+    An' do meet unkind requitèns,
+  You can meäke us zome amends
+  Vor wrongs o' foes, an' slights o' friends;--
+  O flow'ry-gleäded, timber-sheäded
+  Vields by flowèn watervalls!
+
+  Here be softest aïrs a-blowèn
+    Drough the boughs, wi' zingèn drushes,
+  Up above the streams, a-flowèn
+    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 flowèn watervalls.
+
+  Waters, wi' their giddy rollèns;
+    Breezes wi' their plaÿsome wooèns;
+  Here do heal, in soft consolèns,
+    Hearts a-wrung wi' man's wrong doèns.
+  Day do come to us as gaÿ
+  As to a king ov widest swaÿ,
+  In deäisy-whitèn'd, gil'cup-brightèn'd
+  Vields by flowèn watervalls.
+
+  Zome feäir buds mid outlive blightèns,
+    Zome sweet hopes mid outlive sorrow.
+  After days of wrongs an' slightèns
+    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-crunchèn 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,
+    Astraïn'd athirt, an' straïn'd along,
+  Down Thornhay's evenèn-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-bearèn land,
+  When beech-leaves slowly whiver'd down.
+    By evenèn 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'rèn white.
+
+  But when, upon our weddèn night,
+    The cart's light wheels, a-rollèn round,
+  Brought Jenny hwome, they run too light
+   To mark the yieldèn ground;
+  Or welcome would be vound a peäir
+  O' green-vill'd routs a-runnèn there.
+
+  Zoo let me never bring 'ithin
+    My dwellèn 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
+  Wï' leaves, wi' grass, wi' groun' wi' snow.
+
+
+
+
+NANNY'S NEW ABODE.
+
+
+  Now day by day, at lofty height,
+    O zummer noons, the burnèn zun
+  'Ve a-show'd avore our eastward zight,
+    The sky-blue zide ov Hameldon,
+  An' shone ageän, on new-mow'd ground,
+    Wi' haÿ 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 leänèn 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-weävèn by the brink
+    O' shallow brooks, do slowly die.
+  An' on the timber tall,
+    The boughs, half beäre, do bend above
+  The bulgèn banks in Fall.
+
+  There, we'd a spring o' water near,
+    Here, water's deep in wink-draïn'd wells,
+  The church 'tis true, is nigh out here,
+    Too nigh wi' vive loud-boomèn bells.
+  There, naïghbours wer vull wide a-spread,
+    But vo'k be here too clwose a-stow'd.
+  Vor childern now do stun woone's head,
+    Wi' naïsy plaÿ bezide the road,
+  Where big so well as small,
+    The little lad, an' lump'rèn lout,
+  Do leäp an' laugh theäse Fall.
+
+
+
+
+LEAVES A-VALLÈN.
+
+
+  There the ash-tree leaves do vall
+    In the wind a-blowèn 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 vaïces or their me'th.
+
+  There dead ash leaves be a-toss'd
+    In the wind, a-blowèn 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 mornèn rim o' vier
+    Soon ageän shall meet his eyes.
+
+  Leaves be now a-scatter'd round
+    In the wind, a-blowèn 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-smilèn, while her lids do rise
+   To show her eyes as bright as dew.
+  An' comely do she look at night,
+  A-dancèn in her skirt o' white,
+  An' blushèn wi' a rwose o' red
+  Bezide her glossy head.
+
+  Feäir is the rwose o' blushèn hue,
+    Behung wi' dew, in mornèn'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' bloomèn 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 weanèn life,
+    Or maïd or wife, be loved and blest.
+  Though I mid never zing anew
+  To neäme the maïd so feäir an' true,
+  A-blushèn, 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 strugglèn hopes a-drown'd,
+  An' all my jaÿs a-floated back.
+  By storms a-toss'd, I'll gi'e God praïse,
+  Wi' much a-lost I still ha' jaÿs.
+  My peace is rest, my faïth is hope,
+  An' freedom's my unbounded scope.
+
+  Vor faïth 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 blessèns now a-left.
+  What e'th do own, to e'th mid vall,
+  But what's my own my own I'll call,
+  My faïth, 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-holdèn wall between
+    My head an' win's a-rustlèn by,
+  I had noo call vor han's to bring
+  Their seäv'ry daïnties at my nod,
+  But stoop'd a-drinkèn vrom the spring,
+  An' took my meal, wi' thanks to God,
+  Wi' faïth 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-hangèn low,
+    Do meäke the woody ridge look dim;
+  An' raïn-vill'd streams do brisker flow,
+    Arisèn 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 mornèn winds a-blowèn keen;
+  When they wer green the moss wer dead,
+    Now they be dead the moss is green.
+  Low the evenèn zun do sheen
+      By the boughs,
+  Where the cows do swing their taïls
+  Over the merry milkers' païls.
+
+
+
+
+FALL.
+
+
+  Now the yollow zun, a-runnèn
+    Daily round a smaller bow,
+  Still wi' cloudless sky's a-zunnèn
+   All the sheenèn land below.
+    Vewer blossoms now do blow,
+  But the fruit's a-showèn
+    Reds an' blues, an' purple hues,
+  By the leaves a-glowèn.
+
+  Now the childern be a-pryèn
+    Roun' the berried bremble-bow,
+  Zome a-laughèn, woone a-cryèn
+    Vor the slent her frock do show.
+    Bwoys be out a-pullèn low
+  Slooe-boughs, or a-runnèn
+    Where, on zides of hazzle-wrides,
+  Nuts do hang a-zunnèn.
+
+  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
+  Bloomèn 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' maïd.
+  But rwose-trees down along the wall,
+    That then wer all the maïden's ceäre,
+  An' all a-trimm'd an' traïn'd, did bear
+    Their bloomèn 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 plaÿ to beät em down.
+  An' where vor years zome busy hand
+    Did traïn 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-swayèn wi' low-ruslèn 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-blowèn 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-sheäkèn 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 aïr 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' swaÿèn 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 risèn 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-droppèn tears a-sheenèn bright,
+  Among the dew, in mornèn light
+
+  An' woone sweet bud her han' did pleäce
+  Up where did droop the Seävior's feäce;
+  An' two she zet a-bloomèn 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-smellèn 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 faïth could zee
+  The Seävior on the high cross tree
+  Mid be a-vound a-grievèn sore,
+  But not to grieve vor evermwore,
+  Vor He shall show her faïthvul mind,
+    His chaïce is all that she should choose,
+    An' love that here do grieve to lose,
+  Shall be, above, a jaÿ 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-sheädèn light.
+  The milkmaïd by her white-horn'd cow,
+    Wi' païl so white as snow,
+  Did zing below the elem bough
+    A-swaÿèn to an' fro.
+
+  An' there the evenèn'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 whisslèn by, in aïr that shook
+    The ivy on the tree.
+
+  An' on the hill, ahead, wer bars
+    A-showèn dark on high,
+  Avore, as eet, the evenèn stars
+    Did twinkle in the sky,
+  An' then the last sweet evenèn-tide
+    That my long sheäde vell there,
+  I went down Brindon's thymy zide,
+    To my last sleep at Ware.
+
+
+
+
+THE FANCY FEÄIR AT MAÏDEN NEWTON.
+
+
+  The Frome, wi' ever-water'd brink,
+  Do run where shelvèn 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 Maïden Newton.
+
+  An' vo'k, a-smarten'd up, wull hop
+  Out here, as ev'ry traïn 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-vlockèn where the Fancy Feäir
+          Is here at Maïden 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 Maïden Newton.
+
+  Come, young men, come, an' here you'll vind
+  A gift to please a maïden'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 Maïden Newton.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS DO COME ROUND.
+
+
+  Above the leafless hazzle-wride
+    The wind-drove raïn did quickly vall,
+  An' on the meäple's ribby zide
+    Did hang the raïn-drops quiv'rèn ball;
+  Out where the brook o' foamy yollow
+  Roll'd along the meäd's deep hollow,
+  An' noo birds wer out to beät,
+  Wi' flappèn wings, the vleèn 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-drippèn oves.
+  An' where the ruslèn straw did sound
+    So dry, a-shelter'd in the lew,
+  I staïed 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 plaÿ, did seem
+    In work o' men to teäke a peärt,
+  A-drevèn on our wild bwoy team,
+    Or lwoadèn 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 jaÿs a-lost, an' jaÿs 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 plaÿ the merry geäme,
+    Wi' childern ev'ry holitide,
+  But coulden tell the vaïce 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 evenèn, as I shook
+  My locks ov haÿ by Leecombe brook.
+  The yollow zun did weakly glance
+  Upon the winter meäd askance,
+  A-castèn 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' maïdens gaÿ, wi' plaÿsome 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-runnèn lowly round,
+  Do mark the sheädes the hedge do cast
+    At noon, in hoarvrost, on the ground,
+  I'm out when snow's a-lyèn white
+    In keen-aïr'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 hangèn steep,
+          Or hollow deep,
+                  At Lindenore.
+
+  O welcome is the lewth a-vound
+    By rustlèn copse, or ivied bank,
+  Or by the haÿ-rick, weather-brown'd
+    By barken-grass, a-springèn 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 hangèn 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 vaïces vull or thin,
+  A praÿèn vor the souls vur out
+    At sea, an' cry wi' bibb'rèn 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-swingèn on the tree,
+  An' beäten weäves below.
+  Zee how the tweilèn vo'k do bend
+    Upon their windward track,
+  Wi' ev'ry string, an' garment's end,
+    A-flutt'rèn 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."
+
+
+
+
+SLIDÈN.
+
+
+          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-spreadèn wide,
+    We bwoys did zweep along the slide,
+  A-strikèn on in merry row.
+
+          There ruddÿ-feäced,
+          In busy heäste,
+          We all did wag
+          A spankèn lag,
+          To win good speed,
+  When we, straïght-knee'd, wi' foreright tooes,
+    Should shoot along the slipp'ry track,
+    Wi' grindèn sound, a-gettèn slack,
+  The slower went our clumpèn 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 laughèn crew.
+
+          As to an' fro,
+          In merry row,
+          We all went round
+          On ice, on ground
+          The maïdens nigh
+  A-stannèn 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-stannèn still. Come wind, blow on,
+    An' gi'e the bwoys, this Chris'mas tide,
+    The glitt'rèn 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-sheädèn 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-stirrèn nothèn mwore.
+
+  This win' mid dreve upon the maïn,
+    My brother's ship, a-plowèn foam,
+  But not bring mother, cwold, nor raïn,
+    At her now happy hwome.
+  But not bring mother, cwold, nor raïn,
+  Where she is out o' pain.
+
+  Zoo now that I'm a-mwopèn dumb,
+    A-keepèn 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-twinklèn stars,
+  All a-zweepèn along the white snow;
+    On the groun', on the trees, on the bars,
+  Vrom the hedge where the win' russled drough,
+    There a light-russlèn 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-comèn 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-bloomèn feäce,
+  An' she blink'd wi' her head all a-zide,
+    An' a-chucklèn, went back to her pleäce.
+
+  An' in there, as we zot roun' the brands,
+    Though the talkers wer maïnly the men,
+  Bloomèn 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' lookèn eyes,
+  For hands, a zun wi' glowèn feäce,
+  An' peäler moon wi' swifter peäce,
+  Did wheel by stars o' twinklèn light,
+  By bright-wall'd day, an' dark-treed night;
+  An' down upon the high-sky'd land,
+  A-reachèn wide, on either hand,
+  Wer hill an' dell wi' win'-swaÿ'd trees,
+  An' lights a-zweepèn over seas,
+  An' gleamèn cliffs, an' bright-wall'd tow'rs,
+  Wi' sheädes a-markèn on the hours;
+  An' as the feäce, a-rollèn round,
+  Brought comely sheäpes along the ground.
+  The Spring did come in winsome steäte
+  Below a glowèn raïnbow geäte;
+  An' fan wi' aïr a-blowèn weak,
+  Her glossy heäir, an' rwosy cheäk,
+  As she did shed vrom oben hand,
+  The leäpèn zeed on vurrow'd land;
+  The while the rook, wi' heästy flight,
+  A-floatèn in the glowèn 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, jaÿ ov ev'ry mind,
+  Wi' feäce a-beamèn to beguile
+  Our weäry souls ov ev'ry tweil.
+  While birds did warble in the dell
+  In softest aïr 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-smilèn 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-zingèn 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-bendèn down, in thoughtvul mood,
+  Her head 'ithin a snow-white hood
+  A-deck'd wi' icy-jewels, bright
+  An' cwold as twinklèn stars o' night;
+  An' there wer weary Leäbor, slack
+  O' veet to keep her vrozen track,
+  A-lookèn off, wi' wistful eyes,
+  To reefs o' smoke, that there did rise
+  A-meltèn 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-rollèn round
+  'Ithout a beät, 'ithout a sound.
+
+
+
+
+NOT GOO HWOME TO-NIGHT.
+
+
+  No, no, why you've noo wife at hwome
+  Abidèn up till you do come,
+  Zoo leäve your hat upon the pin,
+  Vor I'm your waïter. 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-stannèn still,
+  The sleepèn 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 sheäkèn ground, wind-fleet,
+  Wi' reachèn heads, an' pankèn hides;
+  The while the flat-wing'd rooks in vlock.
+  Did zwim a-sheenèn 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 hufflèn win' do blow,
+  A-whirlèn down the giddy snow:
+  Zee how the sky's a-weärèn 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 baït 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-reachèn up her meäney neck,
+  An' pullèn down good hay vrom reck,
+  A-meäkèn 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-soundèn 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 jinglèn 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'rèn, 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'nèn 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 jinglèn sound,
+  The merry maïd, a-scrubbèn round
+  Her white-steäv'd païl, 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-chucklèn low,
+  While _ing-an-ing_ did ring the string,
+  While _ang-an-ang_ the wires did clang.
+
+  The plaÿers' pockets wer a-strout,
+  Wi' wold brown pence, a-rottlèn in,
+  Their zwangèn 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-runnèn 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-rollèn west,
+  Did brighten up his hill's high breast.
+  Wi' walls a-lookèn dazzlèn white,
+  Or yollow, on the grey-topp'd height
+  Of Paladore, as peäle day wore
+          Awaÿ so feäir.
+  Oh! how I wish'd that I wer there.
+
+  The pleäce wer too vur off to spy
+  The livèn vo'k a-passèn by;
+  The vo'k too vur vor aïr 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
+          Awaÿ so feäir;
+  But how I wish'd that I wer there.
+
+  But when I clomb the lofty ground
+  Where livèn veet an' tongues did sound,
+  At feäir, bezide your bloomèn 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 grievèn soul 'v a-been a-tried
+  Wi' païn, 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 longèn to goo there.
+
+  While Paladore, on watch, do straïn
+  Her eyes to Blackmwore's blue-hill'd pläin,
+  While Duncliffe is the traveller's mark,
+  Or cloty Stour's a-rollèn 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-comèn 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 runnèn childern's hearty laugh
+    Do come an' vlee along--win' swift:
+  The wold man's glossy-knobbèd staff
+    Do help his veet so hard to lift;
+  The maïd do bear her basket by,
+    A-hangèn at her breäthèn zide;
+  An' ceäreless young men, straïght an' spry,
+    Do whissle hwome at eventide,
+  Along the path, a-reachèn by
+  Below tall trees an' oben sky.
+
+  There woone do goo to jaÿ a-head;
+    Another's jaÿ'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-teäkèn 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' passèn here drough evenèn 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-jaÿ 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-RIDÈN.
+
+
+  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-ridèn.
+
+  An' I would rise when vields be grey
+    Wi' mornèn 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 evenèn zun, a-sheenèn bright,
+  Would pay my leäbors wi' the zight
+      O' Ruth--o' Ruth a-ridèn.
+
+  Her healthy feäce is rwosy feäir,
+    She's comely in her gaït an' lim',
+  An' sweet's the smile her feäce do wear,
+    Below her cap's well-rounded brim;
+  An' while her skirt's a-spreädèn wide,
+  In vwolds upon the ho'se's zide,
+  He'll toss his head, an' snort wi' pride,
+      To trot wi' Ruth a-ridèn.
+
+  An' as her ho'se's rottlèn 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-givèn up his toll wi' pride,
+      Vor zight o' Ruth a-ridèn.
+
+  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-ridèn over dell an' hill;
+  I'd zet wi' pride her litty tooe
+  'Ithin a stirrup, sheenèn new,
+  An' leäve all other jaÿs to goo
+      Along wi' Ruth a-ridèn.
+
+  If maïdens that be weäk an' peäle
+    A-mwopèn 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-ridèn.
+
+  While evenèn light do sof'ly gild
+    The moss upon the elem's bark,
+  Avore the zingèn bird's a-still'd,
+    Or woods be dim, or day is dark,
+  Wi' quiv'rèn grass avore his breast,
+  In cowslip beds, do lie at rest,
+  The ho'se that now do goo the best
+      Wi' rwosy Ruth a-ridèn.
+
+
+
+
+BEAUTY UNDECKED.
+
+
+  The grass mid sheen when wat'ry beäds
+  O' dew do glitter on the meäds,
+  An' thorns be bright when quiv'rèn studs
+  O' raïn do hang upon their buds--
+  As jewels be a-meäde by art
+  To zet the plaïnest vo'k off smart.
+
+  But sheäkèn ivy on its tree,
+  An' low-bough'd laurel at our knee,
+  Be bright all daÿ, without the gleäre,
+  O' drops that duller leäves mid weär--
+  As Jeäne is feäir to look upon
+  In plaïnest 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 straïght do step her veet, O,
+  My tongue is dum' to hear her talk,
+    Her vaïce 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 waïght, O,
+  Do seem as if she look'd the best
+    Ov all in walkèn gaït, O.
+  Till I do zee her zit upright
+    Behind the ho'ses neck, O,
+  A-holdèn wi' the raïn so tight
+    His tossèn 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 gaÿ 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-zingèn,
+    As a sweet bird on a tree,
+  Though her zingèn wer my pleasure,
+    'Twer noo zong she zung to me.
+  Though her sweet vaïce 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-weepèn,
+    As a raïn-dimm'd mornèn 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 païn 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 plaÿ,
+  I've her me'th when she is gaÿ,
+  When her tear-draps be a-rollèn,
+  I can now wipe em awaÿ.
+
+
+
+
+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'rèns 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 loppèn limbs a-tired,
+  An you be dry an' burnèn hot,
+  Why here's your tea an' coffee pot
+  At Mister Greenèn'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 chaïce,
+  Do praise en up wi' her sweet vaïce,
+  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, toppèn 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-plaÿèn up their notes,
+  An' all the men vrom vur an' near
+  We'll gi'e em all a hearty cheer.
+  An' then another cheerèn 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 diddèn 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 happerèn storm,
+  But we chaps took the maïdens, 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 raïn 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' faïthvulness keep all her life at my zide,
+    Though my waÿ mid be happy or not.
+  Zaid her naïghbours, "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 jaÿ 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 mornèn 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 whitèn grass,
+  The zummer flow'rs do brightèn grass,
+  Vor zome things we do lose wi' païn,
+  We've mwore that mid be jaÿ to gaïn,
+  An' my dear life do seem the seäme
+        While at my zide
+        There still do bide
+  Your welcome feäce an' hwomely neäme.
+
+  Wï' ev'ry day that woonce come on
+    I had to choose a jaÿ,
+  Wi' many that be since a-gone
+    I had to lose a jaÿ.
+  Drough longsome years a-wanderèn,
+  Drough lwonesome rest a-ponderèn,
+  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-soundèn near,
+  Your answ'rèn vaïce an' long-call'd neäme.
+
+  An' oh! that hope, when life do dawn,
+    Should rise to light our waÿ,
+  An' then, wi' weänèn het withdrawn,
+    Should soon benight our waÿ.
+  Whatever mid beval me still,
+  Wherever chance mid call me still,
+  Though leäte my evenèn 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-talkèn, that did zay
+  It woulden answer to be kind,
+  He thought, to vo'k o' grov'lèn 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 remaïn
+  As thankless as the sea vor raïn,
+  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-castèn down, in gleamèn strokes,
+  His beams upon the dim-bough'd woaks,
+  To show the cliff a-risèn steep,
+  To show the stream a-vallèn deep,
+  To show where windèn 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 nightèngeäle, wi' ringèn bill,
+  Do zing among the soft-aïr'd groves,
+  While up below the house's oves
+  The maïd, a-lookèn 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 lïght
+  The lwonesome zinger o' the night,
+  His cwold-beam'd light do seem to show
+  The prowlèn 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-holdèn 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-hangèn on their lashes--
+  Then wïthstanders 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' forgèn;
+  Souls o' driven sleäves that left
+    Their weäry limbs a-mark'd by scourgèn;
+  They that God ha' call'd to die
+  Vor truth ageän the worold's lie,
+  An' they that groan'd an' cried in vaïn,
+  A-bound by foes' unrighteous chaïn.
+
+  The maïd that selfish craft led on
+    To sin, an' left wi' hope a-blighted;
+  Starvèn 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' burnèn 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 naïghbours 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 outlandïsh 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 mornèn 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' lookèn on an' off the ea'th,
+  He cried, a-drawèn a vull breath,
+    Why, I do know; what, can't ye zee 't?
+  I'll bet a shillèn 'twer a deer
+  Broke out o' park, an' sprung on here,
+    Wi' quoits upon his veet.
+
+
+
+
+TURNÈN 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-tellèn, 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-walkèn 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 evenèn as she zot bezide
+  The wall the ranglèn vine do hide,
+  A-prattlèn 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 wouldèn gie a penny vor'n;
+  The best ov him's outzide in view;
+  His cwoat is gaÿ enough, 'tis true,
+  But then the wold vo'k didden bring
+  En up to know a single thing,
+  An' as vor zingèn,--what do seem
+  His zingèn's nothèn but a scream."
+  "So ho!" cried Jim, "Who's that, then, Meäry,
+  That you be now a-talkèn 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, Aïr, E'th, Water_, wer a-meäde
+  Good workers, each o'm in his treäde,
+  An' _Aïr_ an' _Water_, wer a-match
+    Vor woone another in a mill;
+  The giant _Water_ at a hatch,
+    An' _Aïr_ 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 grindèn any corn vor bread.
+  Then _Water_ cried to _Vier_, "Alack!
+    Look, here be I, so stiff's a log,
+  Thik fellor _Aïr_ do keep me back
+    Vrom grindèn. 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 cringèn,
+  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 _Aïr'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 _Aïr_ to vind me breath,
+  An' you shall grind, an' pull, an' dreve,
+  An' zaw, an' drash, an' pump, an' heave,
+  An' get vrom _Aïr_, in time, I'll lay
+  A pound, the drevèn 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-growèn 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 plaïn
+  I staÿ'd vor shelter vrom the raïn,
+  Where sharp-leav'd ashès' heads did twist
+  In hufflèn wind, an' driftèn 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' ramblèn 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 tidèns,
+      Woone day, on their ears,
+  An' their souls wer a-smote wi' a stroke
+  As the lightnèn 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-rollèn
+      The white-threaded ball.
+
+  Oh! vor their minds the daylight around em
+      Had nothèn to show.
+  Though it brighten'd their tears as they vell,
+  An' did sheen on their lips that did tell,
+  In their vaïces all thrillèn an' mwoansome,
+      O' nothèn 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' thanksgivèn,
+      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-zingèn 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 turnèn stile, a-païnted 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' spreadèn eärms that wheel'd to guide
+  Us each in turn to tother zide.
+  An' vu'st ov all the traïn he took
+  My wife, wi' winsome gaït an' look;
+  An' then zent on my little maïd,
+  A-skippèn onward, overjaÿ'd
+  To reach ageän the pleäce o' pride,
+  Her comely mother's left han' zide.
+  An' then, a-wheelèn roun', he took
+  On me, 'ithin his third white nook.
+  An' in the fourth, a-sheäkèn wild,
+  He zent us on our giddy child.
+  But eesterday he guided slow
+  My downcast Jenny, vull o' woe,
+  An' then my little maïd in black,
+  A-walkèn 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 ZEÈN 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 zeèn 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 zeèn o' you."
+
+  A man mus' be in evil ceäse
+  To live 'ithin a land o' greäce,
+  Wi' nothèn 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' weepèn eyes;
+  To staÿ 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 zeèn o' you."
+
+  Oh! no, mid all o's try to spend
+  Our passèn 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-speakèn words o' lovèn-kindness,
+  Openèn the eyes o' blindness;
+  Helpèn helpless striver's weakness,
+  Cheerèn hopeless grievers' meekness,
+  Meäkèn friends at every meetèn,
+  Veel the happier vor their greetèn;
+  Zoo that vew could tell us true,
+  "I be never the better vor zeèn o' you."
+  No, let us even try to win
+  Zome little good vrom sons o' sin,
+  An' let their evils warn us back
+  Vrom teäkèn 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 zeèn 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 praÿer to the God o' might,
+  He vound a fourth, 'ithout a neäme,
+  A-walkèn wi' em in the fleäme.
+
+  An' zoo, whenever we mid hurt,
+    Vrom spite, or vrom disdaïn,
+  A brother's soul, or meäke en smert
+    Wi' keen an' needless païn,
+  Another that we midden know
+  Is always wi' en in his woe.
+  Vor you do know our Lord ha' cried,
+  "By faïth my bretheren do bide
+  In me the livèn vine,
+    As branches in a livèn 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 touchèn 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 naïghbour 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-twitèn o'n wi' wrong,
+  Zoo he did sleep till mornèn broke,
+    An' birds did call en wi' their zong.
+  But he did love a harmless joke,
+  An' love his evenèn whiff o' smoke,
+  A-zittèn 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 raïl 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 traïn, vrom slow to vast.
+  An' oh! at last how they did spank
+  By cuttèn 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' rottlèn slap,
+    The zwingèn 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' MAÏDENS A-RUNNÈN THE VIELDS.[F]
+
+
+  "Come on. Be sprack, a-laggèn back."
+  "Oh! be there any cows to hook?"
+  "Lauk she's afraïd, a silly maïd,"
+  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-slippèn 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-zingèn 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 crawlèn thing,
+  A sneäke." "A slooworm; he wont sting."
+  "Hee! hee! how she did squal an' hop,
+  A-spinnèn 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-crawlèn 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-rumblèn?" "Why a clap
+  O' thunder. Here's a cloud
+  O' raïn. I veel a drap."
+  "A thunderstorm. Do raïn.
+  Run hwome wi' might an' main."
+  "Hee! hee! oh! there's a drop
+  A-trïckled 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-huntèn_ for _an huntunge_.
+    _aï_, _aÿ_ (5, 1), Maïd, Maÿ.
+      (_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.
+
+_Bavèn_, 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.
+
+_Blooèns_, blossoms.
+
+_Blooth_, blossom in the main.
+
+_Bluevinny_, blue mouldy.
+
+_Brack_, a breach. "Neither brack nor crack in it."
+
+_Bran'_, a brand.
+
+_Brantèn_, brazen-faced.
+
+_Bring-gwaïn_ (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.
+
+_Clèden_, 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.
+
+_Cweïn_, _Cwoïn_, (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_, _Drène_ (2), to drawl.
+
+_Drève_ (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 _èn_--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_.
+
+_Èn_, for ing, zingèn, 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_.
+
+_Faÿ_ (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.
+
+_Haïn_ (5, 1), to fence in ground or shut up a field for mowing.
+
+_Ha'me_, see _Hau'm_.
+
+_Hangèn_, 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.
+
+_Haÿmeäkèn_, 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.
+
+_Netlèns_, a food of a pig's inwards tied in knots.
+
+_Never'stide_, never at all.
+
+_Nicky_, a very small fagot of sticks.
+
+_Nïppy_, 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_ Haÿmeäkèn.
+
+_Peärt_ (1, 4), pert; lively.
+
+_Peaze_, _Peeze_ (2), to ooze.
+
+_Peewit_, the lapwing.
+
+_Pitch._  _See_ Haÿmeäkèn.
+
+_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_ Haÿmeäkèn.
+
+_Popple_, a pebble.
+
+_Praïse_ (5, 1), prize, to put forth or tell to others a pain or ailing.
+     "I had a risèn on my eärm, but I didden praïse 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_ Haÿmeäkèn.
+  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.
+
+_Slaït_, (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.
+
+_Squaïl_ (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.
+
+_Staïd_ (5, 1), steady, oldish.
+
+_Stannèns_, 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.
+
+_Strawèn_, 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.
+
+_Taït_, 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 _Haÿmeäkèn_.
+
+_Welshnut_, a walnut.
+
+_Werden_, were not or was not.
+
+_Wevet_, a spider's web.
+
+_Whindlèn_, 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 jaÿ.
+
+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 jaÿ.
+
+Page 432: changed däy to daÿ.
+
+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
+
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+<pre>
+
+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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+	<a name="top"></a>
+	<p class="note">Transcriber's Note: Some of the Headings are in 'Old English Text' font, available <a href="#oefont">HERE</a>.<br />
+	The <a href="#page459">Pronunciation Guide</a> and Word List are at the end of the book.</p>
+	<br /><br /><br />
+<br />
+<h1><i>POEMS OF RURAL LIFE</i></h1>
+<br />
+
+<h2><i>IN THE DORSET DIALECT.</i></h2>
+<br /><br />
+<h4>BY</h4>
+<h2>WILLIAM BARNES.</h2>
+<br /><br />
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/001-135.png" width="135" height="151" alt="'Tree of Knowledge' and 'Tree of Life'" border="0" /></div>
+
+<br /><br />
+<h4>LONDON:</h4>
+<h4>KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TR&Uuml;BNER &amp; Co., LTD.</h4>
+<h4>1903</h4>
+
+
+<br /><br /><hr /><br /><br /><br />
+
+
+
+<h3><i>TO THE READER.</i></h3>
+
+
+<span class="sc"><b>Kind Reader</b></span>,
+<p>
+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.</p>
+<p>
+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.</p>
+<p>
+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.</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+Yours kindly,</p>
+<p class="author">
+W. BARNES</p>
+<p class="note">
+<i>June 1879.</i></p>
+
+<br /><br /><hr /><br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<h3>FIRST COLLECTION.</h3>
+
+<h4>SPRING.</h4>
+
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="contents">
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">&nbsp;</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top">Page<br /></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page3">The Spring</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page3">3</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p4">The Woodlands</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page4">4</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p5">Le&auml;dy-Day, an' Ridd&egrave;n House</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page5">5</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page8">Easter Zunday</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page8">8</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page9">Easter Monday</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page9">9</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p9">Dock-Leaves</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page9">9</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p10">The Blackbird</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page10">10</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p12">Woodcom' Fe&auml;st</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page12">12</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p13">The Milk-Ma&iuml;d o' the Farm</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page13">13</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page15">The Girt Woak Tree that's in the Dell</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page15">15</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p16">Vell&egrave;n o' the Tree </a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page16">16</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p17">Bring&egrave;n Woone Gwa&iuml;n o' Zundays</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page17">17</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p18">Even&egrave;n Twilight</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page18">18</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page20">Even&egrave;n in the Village</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page20">20</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p20">May</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page20">20</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p22">Bob the Fiddler</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page22">22</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page23">Hope in Spring</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page23">23</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p24">The White Road up athirt the Hill</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page24">24</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p25">The Woody Hollow</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page25">25</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p26">Jenny's Ribbons</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page26">26</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page28">Eclogue:&mdash;The 'Lotments</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page28">28</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p30">Eclogue:&mdash;A Bit o' Sly Coort&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page30">30</a></td>
+	</tr>
+  </table><br />
+
+<h4>SUMMER.</h4>
+
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="contents">
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page34">Even&egrave;n, an' Ma&iuml;dens out at Door</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page34">34</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p35">The Shepherd o' the Farm</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page35">35</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p36">Vields in the Light</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page36">36</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p37">Whitsuntide an' Club Walk&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page37">37</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p39">Woodley</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page39">39</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page41">The Brook that Ran by Gramfer's</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page41">41</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p42">Sleep did come wi' the Dew</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page42">42</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p43">Sweet Music in the Wind</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page43">43</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p44">Uncle an' Aunt</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page44">44</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p46">Hav&egrave;n Woones Fortune a-twold</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page46">46</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p47">Je&auml;ne's Wedd&egrave;n Day in Morn&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page47">47</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page49">Rivers don't gi'e out</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page49">49</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p50">Me&auml;ken up a Miff</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page50">50</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p51">Ha&yuml;-Me&auml;ken</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page51">51</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p52">Ha&yuml;-Carr&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page52">52</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page54">Eclogue:&mdash;The Best Man in the Vield</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page54">54</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page57">Where we did keep our Flagon</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page57">57</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p58">Week's End in Zummer, in the Wold Vo'k's Time</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page58">58</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p60">The Me&auml;d a-mow'd</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page60">60</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p61">The Sky a-cle&auml;r&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page61">61</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p62">The Even&egrave;n Star o' Zummer</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page62">62</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p63">The Clote</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page63">63</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page65">I got two Vields</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page65">65</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page66">Polly be-&egrave;n upzides wi' Tom</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page66">66</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p67">Be'mi'ster</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page67">67</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page68">Thatch&egrave;n o' the Rick</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page68">68</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p69">Bees a-Zwarm&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page69">69</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p70">Read&egrave;n ov a Head-stwone</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page70">70</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p71">Zummer Even&egrave;n Dance</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page71">71</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p72">Eclogue:&mdash;The Ve&auml;iries</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page72">72</a></td>
+	</tr>
+</table><br />
+
+<h4>FALL.</h4>
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="contents">
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page76">Corn a-turn&egrave;n Yollow</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page76">76</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page77">A-Haul&egrave;n o' the Corn</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page77">77</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p78">Harvest Hwome:&mdash;The vu'st Pe&auml;rt</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page78">78</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p79">Harvest Hwome:&mdash;Second Pe&auml;rt</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page79">79</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p80">A Zong ov Harvest Hwome</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page80">80</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p82">Poll's Jack-Daw</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page82">82</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p83">The Ivy </a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page83">83</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p84">The Welshnut Tree</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page84">84</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page86">Jenny out vrom Hwome</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page86">86</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p86">Grenley Water</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page86">86</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p87">The Ve&auml;iry Veet that I do meet</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page87">87</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p88">Morn&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page88">88</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page90">Out a-Nutt&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page90">90</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p91">Te&auml;k&egrave;n in Apples</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page91">91</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p92">Me&auml;ple Leaves be Yollow</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page92">92</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p93">Night a-zett&egrave;n in </a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page93">93</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p94">The Weather-be&auml;ten Tree</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page94">94</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p95">Shrodon Fe&auml;ir:&mdash;The vu'st Pe&auml;rt</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page95">95</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p96">Shrodon Fe&auml;ir:&mdash;The rest o't</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page96">96</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p97">Martin's Tide</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page97">97</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page99">Guy Faux's Night</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page99">99</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page100">Eclogue:&mdash;The Common a-took in</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page100">100</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p102">Eclogue:&mdash;Two Farms in Woone</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page102">102</a></td>
+	</tr>
+</table><br />
+
+<h4>WINTER.</h4>
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="contents">
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page105">The Vrost</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page105">105</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p106">A Bit o' Fun</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page106">106</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p107">Fanny's Be'th-day</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page107">107</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p109">What Dick an' I did</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page109">109</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page111">Grammer's Shoes</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page111">111</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p112">Zunsheen in the Winter</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page112">112</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p113">The Weep&egrave;n Le&auml;dy</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page113">113</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page115">The Happy Days when I wer Young</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page115">115</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p116">In the Stillness o' the Night</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page116">116</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page117">The Settle an' the Girt Wood Vire</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page117">117</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p118">The Carter</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page118">118</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page120">Chris'mas Invitation</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page120">120</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p121">Keep&egrave;n up o' Chris'mas</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page121">121</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p122">Zitt&egrave;n out the Wold Year</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page122">122</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p123">Woak wer Good Enough Woonce</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page123">123</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p124">Lullaby</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page124">124</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p125">Me&auml;ry-Ann's Child </a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page125">125</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p126">Eclogue:&mdash;Father Come Hwome</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page126">126</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p129">Eclogue:&mdash;A Ghost </a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page129">129</a></td>
+	</tr>
+
+</table><br />
+
+<h3>SUNDRY PIECES.</h3>
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="contents">
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page133">A Zong</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page133">133</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page134">The Ma&iuml;d vor my Bride</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page134">134</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page135">The Hwomestead</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page135">135</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page136">The Farmer's Woldest D&#257;'ter</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page136">136</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p137">Uncle out o' Debt an' out o' Danger</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page137">137</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page140">The Church an' Happy Zunday</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page140">140</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p141">The Wold Waggon</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page141">141</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p142">The Dr&egrave;ven o' the Common</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page142">142</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p143">The Common a-took in</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page143">143</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page145">A Wold Friend</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page145">145</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p145">The Rwose that Deck'd her Breast</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#p145">145</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page147">Nanny's Cow</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page147">147</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page148">The Shep'erd Bwoy</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page148">148</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page149">Hope a-left Behind</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page149">149</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p150">A Good Father</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page150">150</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page151">The Beam in Grenley Church</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page151">151</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p152">The Va&iuml;ces that be Gone</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page152">152</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p153">Poll</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page153">153</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p154">Looks a-know'd Avore</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page154">154</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p155">The Music o' the Dead</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page155">155</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p156">The Ple&auml;ce a Te&auml;le's a-twold o'</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page156">156</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page158">Aunt's Tantrums</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page158">158</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page159">The Stwon&egrave;n Pworch</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page159">159</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p160">Farmer's Sons</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page160">160</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p161">Je&auml;ne</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page161">161</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p162">The Dree Woaks</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page162">162</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page164">The Hwomestead a-vell into Hand</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page164">164</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page166">The Guide Post</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page166">166</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p167">Gwain to Fe&auml;ir</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page167">167</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page168">Je&auml;ne o' Grenley Mill</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page168">168</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p169">The Bells ov Alderburnham</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page169">169</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p170">The Girt Wold House o' Mossy Stwone</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page170">170</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p173">A Witch</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page173">173</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page175">Eclogue:&mdash;The Times</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page175">175</a></td>
+	</tr>
+</table>
+
+     <br /><hr /><br />
+
+<h3>SECOND COLLECTION.</h3>
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="contents">
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page185">Blackmwore Ma&iuml;dens</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page185">185</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p186">My Orcha'd in Lind&egrave;n Lea</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page186">186</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p187">Bishop's Caundle</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page187">187</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p189">Hay Me&auml;k&egrave;n&mdash;Nunchen Time </a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page189">189</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p191">A Father out an' Mother Hwome</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page191">191</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p192">Riddles</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page192">192</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p196">Day's Work a-done</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page196">196</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p197-1">Light or She&auml;de</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page197">197</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p197-2">The Waggon a-stooded</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page197">197</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page201">Gwa&iuml;n down the Steps</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page201">201</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p202">Ellen Brine ov Allenburn</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page202">202</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p203">The Motherless Child</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page203">203</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p204">The Le&auml;dy's Tower</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page204">204</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p208">Fatherhood</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page208">208</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page211">The Ma&iuml;d o' Newton</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page211">211</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p212">Childhood</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page212">212</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p213">Me&auml;ry's Smile</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page213">213</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p214">Me&auml;ry Wedded</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page214">214</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p215">The Stwon&egrave;n Bwoy</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page215">215</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p217">The Young that died in Beauty</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page217">217</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p218">F&auml;ir Emily of Yarrow Mill</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page218">218</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p219">The Scud</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page219">219</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p221">Mind&egrave;n House</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page221">221</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p222">The Lovely Ma&iuml;d ov Elwell Me&auml;d</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page222">222</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p224">Our Fathers' Works</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page224">224</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p225">The Wold vo'k Dead</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page225">225</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p227">Culver Dell and the Squire</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page227">227</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page229">Our Be'thplace</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page229">229</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p230">The Window fre&auml;med wi' Stwone</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page230">230</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p231">The Waterspring in the Le&auml;ne</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page231">231</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p232">The Poplars</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page232">232</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p233">The Linden on the Lawn</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page233">233</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p235">Our abode in Arby Wood</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page235">235</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p236-1">Slow to come, quick agone</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page236">236</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p236-2">The Vier-zide</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page236">236</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p238">Knowlwood</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page238">238</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page240">Hallowed Ple&auml;ces</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page240">240</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p242">The Wold Wall</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page242">242</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p243">Ble&auml;ke's House</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page243">243</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p245">John Ble&auml;ke at Hwome</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page245">245</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page247">Milk&egrave;n Time</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page247">247</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page248">When Birds be Still</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page248">248</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p249">Rid&egrave;n Hwome at Night</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page249">249</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p250">Zun-zet.</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page250">250</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page252">Spring</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page252">252</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page253">The Zummer Hedge</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page253">253</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p254">The Water Crowvoot</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page254">254</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p255">The Lilac</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page255">255</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p256">The Blackbird</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page256">256</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p257">The Slant&egrave;n light o' Fall</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page257">257</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page259">Thissledown</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page259">259</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p259">The May-tree</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page259">259</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p260">The Lydlinch Bells</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page260">260</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p261">The Stage Coach</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page261">261</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p263">Wayfe&auml;r&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page263">263</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page265">The Le&auml;ne</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page265">265</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p267">The Ra&iuml;lroad</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page267">267</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p268-1">The Ra&iuml;lroad</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page268">268</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p268-2">Seats</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page268">268</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page270">Sound o' Water</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page270">270</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p270">Trees be Company</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page270">270</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p272">A Ple&auml;ce in Zight</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page272">272</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p273">Gwa&iuml;n to Brookwell</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page273">273</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p275">Brookwell</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page275">275</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p277">The Shy Man</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page277">277</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p279">The Winter's Willow</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page279">279</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p281">I know Who</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page281">281</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p282">Jessie Lee</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page282">282</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p283">True Love</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page283">283</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p284">The Be&auml;n-vield</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page284">284</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p286">Wold Friends a-met</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page286">286</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page288">Fifehead</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page288">288</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page289">Ivy Hall</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page289">289</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p290-1">False Friends-like</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page290">290</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p290-2">The Bachelor</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page290">290</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p292">Married Pe&auml;ir's Love-walk</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page292">292</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p293">A Wife a-pra&iuml;s'd</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page293">293</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p295">The Wife a-lost</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page295">295</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p296">The Thorns in the Ge&auml;te</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page296">296</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p297">Angels by the Door</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page297">297</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p298">Vo'k a-com&egrave;n into Church</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page298">298</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p299">Woone Rule</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page299">299</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p300">Good Me&auml;ster Collins</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page300">300</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p302">Herr&egrave;nston</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page302">302</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p304">Out at Plough</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page304">304</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page306">The Bwoat</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page306">306</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page307">The Ple&auml;ce our own agean</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page307">307</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page308">Eclogue:&mdash;John an' Thomas</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page308">308</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p310">Pentridge by the River</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page310">310</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p311">Wheat</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page311">311</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p313">The Me&auml;d in June</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page313">313</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p315">Early ris&eacute;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page315">315</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p316">Zelling woone's Honey</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page316">316</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p317">Dobbin Dead</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page317">317</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page319">Happiness</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page319">319</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p320">Gruffmoody Grim</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page320">320</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p322">The Turn o' the Days</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page322">322</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p323">The Sparrow Club</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page323">323</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p325">Gammony Ga&yuml;</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page325">325</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p327">The He&auml;re</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page327">327</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page329">Nanny Gill</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page329">329</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p330">Moonlight on the Door</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page330">330</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p331">My Love's Guardian Angel</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page331">331</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p332">Leeburn Mill</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page332">332</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p333">Praise o' Do'set</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page333">333</a></td>
+	</tr>
+</table>
+
+<br /><hr /><br />
+
+<h3>THIRD COLLECTION.</h3>
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="contents">
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page339">Woone Smile Mwore</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page339">339</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p340">The Echo</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page340">340</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p341">Vull a Man</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page341">341</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p343">Naighbour Pla&yuml;me&auml;tes</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page343">343</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page345">The Lark</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page345">345</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p345">The Two Churches</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page345">345</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page347">Woak Hill</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page347">347</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p348">The Hedger</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page348">348</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p349">In the Spring</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page349">349</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p350">The Flood in Spring</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page350">350</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p351">Comen Hwome</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page351">351</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p352">Grammer a-crippled </a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page352">352</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p354">The Castle Ruins</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page354">354</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p355">Eclogue:&mdash;John jealous</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page355">355</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page359">Early Pla&yuml;me&auml;te</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page359">359</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p360">Pick&egrave;n o' Scroff</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page360">360</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p361">Good Night</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page361">361</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p362">Went Hwome</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page362">362</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p363">The Hollow Woak</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page363">363</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p364">Childern's Childern</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page364">364</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p365">The Rwose in the Dark</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page365">365</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p366">Come</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page366">366</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p367">Zummer Winds</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page367">367</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p368">The Ne&auml;me Letters</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page368">368</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page370">The New House a-gett&egrave;n Wold</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page370">370</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p370">Zunday</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page370">370</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p371">The Pillar'd Ge&auml;te</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page371">371</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p373">Zummer Stream</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page373">373</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p374">Linda De&auml;ne</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page374">374</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page376">Eclogue:&mdash;Come an' zee us</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page376">376</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p377">Lindenore</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page377">377</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p378">Me'th below the Tree</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page378">378</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p379">Treat well your Wife</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page379">379</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p381">The Child an' the Mowers</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page381">381</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p382">The Love Child</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page382">382</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p383">Hawthorn Down</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page383">383</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page385">Oben Vields</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page385">385</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page386">What John wer a-tell&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page386">386</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page387">She&auml;des</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page387">387</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p387">Times o' Year</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page387">387</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p388">Eclogue:&mdash;Racket&egrave;n Joe</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page388">388</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p391">Zummer an' Winter</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page391">391</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page392">To Me</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page392">392</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p393">Two an' Two</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page393">393</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p394">The Lew o' the Rick</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page394">394</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p395">The Wind in Woone's Fe&auml;ce</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page395">395</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page396">Tokens</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page396">396</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p396">Tweil</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page396">396</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p398">Fancy</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page398">398</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p399">The Broken Heart</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page399">399</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page400">Even&egrave;n Light</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page400">400</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page401">Vields by Watervalls</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page401">401</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page402">The Wheel Routs</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page402">402</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p403">Nanny's new Abode</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page403">403</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p404">Leaves a-vall&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page404">404</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p405">Lizzie</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page405">405</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p406">Blessens a-left</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page406">406</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p407">Fall Time</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page407">407</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p408">Fall</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page408">408</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page409">The Zilver-weed</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page409">409</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p409">The Widow's House</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page409">409</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p410">The Child's Gre&auml;ve</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page410">410</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page412">Went vrom Hwome</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page412">412</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p412">The Fancy Fe&auml;ir</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page412">412</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p414">Things do Come Round</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page414">414</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p415">Zummer Thoughts in Winter Time</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page415">415</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p416">I'm out o' Door</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page416">416</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p417">Grief an' Gladness</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page417">417</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p418">Slid&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page418">418</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page420">Lwonesomeness</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page420">420</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page421">A Snowy Night</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page421">421</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p421">The Year-clock</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page421">421</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p424">Not goo Hwome To-night</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page424">424</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page426">The Humstrum</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page426">426</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p427">Shaftesbury Fe&auml;ir</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page427">427</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page429">The Be&auml;ten Path</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page429">429</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p430">Ruth a-rid&egrave;n</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page430">430</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p432-1">Beauty Undecked</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page432">432</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p432-2">My love is good</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page432">432</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p434">Heedless o' my love</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page434">434</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p435">The Do'set Militia</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page435">435</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page437">A Do'set Sale</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page437">437</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p437">Don't ce&auml;re</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page437">437</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page439">Changes</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page439">439</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p440">Kindness</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page440">440</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p441">Withstanders</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page441">441</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p442">Daniel Dwithen</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page442">442</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page444">Turn&egrave;n things off</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page444">444</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p445">The Giants in Tre&auml;des</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page445">445</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p447">The Little Worold</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page447">447</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ <tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p448">Bad News</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page448">448</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p449">The Turnstile</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page449">449</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p450">The Better vor ze&egrave;n o' you</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page450">450</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p451">Pity</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page451">451</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page453">John Bloom in Lon'on</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page453">453</a></td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#p456">A Lot o' Ma&iuml;dens</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page456">456</a></td>
+	</tr>
+	</table>
+
+	<br /><hr /><br />
+
+	<h3>INDEX.</h3>
+
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="contents">
+<tr>
+       <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top">
+<a class="contents" href="#page459">A List of Some Dorset Words</a>
+</td>
+       <td class="right" valign="top"><a href="#page459">459</a></td>
+	</tr>
+ </table><br />
+
+<br /><hr /><br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<h1>POEMS OF RURAL LIFE.</h1>
+
+<br /><hr class="short" /><br /><br />
+
+<h2>FIRST COLLECTION.</h2><br />
+<a name="page3" id="page3"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;3]</span>
+
+<h3>SPRING.</h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/rule0-100.png" width="100" height="17" alt="rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+<h4>THE SPRING.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When wintry weather's all a-done,</p>
+  <p>An' brooks do sparkle in the zun,</p>
+  <p>An' n&acirc;isy-build&egrave;n rooks do vlee</p>
+  <p>Wi' sticks toward their elem tree;</p>
+  <p>When birds do zing, an' we can zee</p>
+    <p class="i2">Upon the boughs the buds o' spring,&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Then I'm as happy as a king,</p>
+      <p class="i4">A-vield wi' health an' zunsheen.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Vor then the cowslip's hang&egrave;n flow'r</p>
+  <p>A-wetted in the zunny show'r,</p>
+  <p>Do grow wi' vi'lets, sweet o' smell,</p>
+  <p>Bezide the wood-screen'd gr&aelig;gle's bell;</p>
+  <p>Where drushes' aggs, wi' sky-blue shell,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do lie in mossy nest among</p>
+    <p class="i2">The thorns, while they do zing their zong</p>
+      <p class="i4">At even&egrave;n in the zunsheen.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' God do me&auml;ke his win' to blow</p>
+  <p>An' ra&iuml;n to vall vor high an' low,</p>
+  <p>An' bid his morn&egrave;n zun to rise</p>
+  <p>Vor all alike, an' groun' an' skies</p>
+  <p>Ha' colors vor the poor man's eyes:</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' in our trials He is near,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To hear our mwoan an' zee our tear,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' turn our clouds to zunsheen.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page4" id="page4"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;4]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' many times when I do vind</p>
+  <p>Things all goo wrong, an' vo'k unkind,</p>
+  <p>To zee the happy veed&egrave;n herds,</p>
+  <p>An' hear the zing&egrave;n o' the birds,</p>
+  <p>Do soothe my sorrow mwore than words;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor I do zee that 'tis our sin</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do me&auml;ke woone's soul so dark 'ithin,</p>
+      <p class="i4">When God would gi'e woone zunsheen.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p4" id="p4"></a>
+<h4>THE WOODLANDS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>O spread age&auml;n your leaves an' flow'rs,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands!</p>
+  <p>Here underneath the dewy show'rs</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' warm-a&iuml;r'd spring-time, zunny woodlands!</p>
+  <p>As when, in drong or open ground,</p>
+  <p>Wi' happy bwoyish heart I vound</p>
+  <p>The twitt'r&egrave;n birds a-build&egrave;n round</p>
+    <p class="i2">Your high-bough'd hedges, zunny woodlands.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>You gie'd me life, you gie'd me ja&yuml;,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands</p>
+  <p>You gie'd me health, as in my pla&yuml;</p>
+    <p class="i2">I rambled through ye, zunny woodlands!</p>
+  <p>You gie'd me freedom, vor to rove</p>
+  <p>In a&iuml;ry me&auml;d or she&auml;dy grove;</p>
+  <p>You gie'd me smil&egrave;n Fann&egrave;y's love,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The best ov all o't, zunny woodlands!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>My vu'st shrill skylark whiver'd high,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands!</p>
+  <p>To zing below your deep-blue sky</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' white spring-clouds, O zunny woodlands!</p>
+  <p>An' boughs o' trees that woonce stood here,</p>
+  <p>Wer glossy green the happy year</p><a name="page5" id="page5"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;5]</span>
+  <p>That gie'd me woone I lov'd so dear,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' now ha' lost, O zunny woodlands!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>O let me rove age&auml;n unspied,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands!</p>
+  <p>Along your green-bough'd hedges' zide,</p>
+    <p class="i2">As then I rambled, zunny woodlands!</p>
+  <p>An' where the miss&egrave;n trees woonce stood,</p>
+  <p>Or tongues woonce rung among the wood,</p>
+  <p>My memory shall me&auml;ke em good,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Though you've a-lost em, zunny woodlands!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p5" id="p5"></a>
+<h4>LEADY-DAY, AN' RIDDEN HOUSE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Aye, back at Le&auml;dy-Day, you know,</p>
+  <p>I come vrom Gullybrook to Stowe;</p>
+  <p>At Le&auml;dy-Day I took my pack</p>
+  <p>O' rottletraps, an' turn'd my back</p>
+  <p>Upon the weather-be&auml;ten door,</p>
+  <p>That had a-screen'd, so long avore,</p>
+  <p>The mwost that the&auml;se zide o' the gre&auml;ve,</p>
+  <p>I'd live to have, or die to se&auml;ve!</p>
+  <p>My childern, an' my vier-ple&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p>Where Molly wi' her cheerful fe&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p>When I'd a-trod my wat'ry road</p>
+  <p>Vrom night-bedarken'd vields abrode,</p>
+  <p>Wi' nimble hands, at even&egrave;n, blest</p>
+  <p>Wi' vire an' vood my hard-won rest;</p>
+  <p>The while the little woones did clim',</p>
+  <p>So sleek-skinn'd, up from lim' to lim',</p>
+  <p>Till, struggl&egrave;n hard an' cling&egrave;n tight,</p>
+  <p>They reach'd at last my fe&auml;ce's height.</p>
+  <p>All try&egrave;n which could soonest hold</p>
+  <p>My mind wi' little te&auml;les they twold.</p><a name="page6" id="page6"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;6]</span>
+  <p>An' ridd&egrave;n house is such a caddle,</p>
+  <p>I shan't be over keen vor mwore &#333;'t,</p>
+  <p>Not yet a while, you mid be sure &#333;'t,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>I'd rather keep to woone wold staddle.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Well, zoo, avore the east begun</p>
+  <p>To redden wi' the com&egrave;n zun,</p>
+  <p>We left the beds our mossy thatch</p>
+  <p>Wer never mwore to overstratch,</p>
+  <p>An' borrow'd uncle's wold hoss <i>Dragon</i>,</p>
+  <p>To bring the slowly lumbr&egrave;n waggon,</p>
+  <p>An' when he come, we vell a-pack&egrave;n</p>
+  <p>The bedsteads, wi' their rwopes an' zack&egrave;n;</p>
+  <p>An' then put up the wold e&auml;rm-chair,</p>
+  <p>An' cwoffer vull ov e'then-ware,</p>
+  <p>An' vier-dogs, an' copper kittle,</p>
+  <p>Wi' crocks an' saucepans, big an' little;</p>
+  <p>An' fry&egrave;n-pan, vor aggs to slide</p>
+  <p>In butter round his hiss&egrave;n zide,</p>
+  <p>An' gridire's even bars, to bear</p>
+  <p>The dripp&egrave;n ste&auml;ke above the gle&auml;re</p>
+  <p>O' brightly-glow&egrave;n coals. An' then,</p>
+  <p>All up o' top o' them age&auml;n</p>
+  <p>The woaken bwoard, where we did eat</p>
+  <p>Our croust o' bread or bit o' meat,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>An' when the bwoard wer up, we tied</p>
+  <p>Upon the re&auml;ves, along the zide,</p>
+  <p>The wo&auml;ken stools, his glossy me&auml;tes,</p>
+  <p>Bwoth when he's be&auml;re, or when the ple&auml;tes</p>
+  <p>Do clatter loud wi' knives, below</p>
+  <p>Our merry fe&auml;ces in a row.</p>
+  <p>An' put between his lags, turn'd up'ard,</p>
+  <p>The zalt-box an' the corner cupb'ard.</p>
+  <p>An' then we laid the wold clock-ce&auml;se,</p>
+  <p>All dumb, athirt upon his fe&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p>Vor we'd a-left, I needen tell ye,</p><a name="page7" id="page7"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;7]</span>
+  <p>Noo works 'ithin his head or belly.</p>
+  <p>An' then we put upon the pack</p>
+  <p>The settle, flat upon his back;</p>
+  <p>An' after that, a-tied in pairs</p>
+  <p>In woone another, all the chairs,</p>
+  <p>An' bits o' lumber wo'th a ride,</p>
+  <p>An' at the very top a-tied,</p>
+  <p>The childern's little stools did lie,</p>
+  <p>Wi' lags a-turn'd tow&aacute;rd the sky:</p>
+  <p>Zoo there we lwoaded up our scroff,</p>
+  <p>An' tied it vast, an' started off.</p>
+  <p>An',&mdash;as the waggon cooden car all</p>
+  <p>We had to te&auml;ke,&mdash;the butter-barrel</p>
+  <p>An' cheese-wring, wi' his twin&egrave;n screw,</p>
+  <p>An' all the pa&iuml;ls an' ve&auml;ts, an' blue</p>
+  <p>Wold milk leads, and a vew things mwore,</p>
+  <p>Wer all a-carr'd the day avore,</p>
+  <p>And when the mwost ov our wold stuff</p>
+  <p>Wer brought outside o' thik brown ruf,</p>
+  <p>I rambled roun' wi' narrow looks,</p>
+  <p>In fusty holes an' darksome nooks,</p>
+  <p>To gather all I still mid vind,</p>
+  <p>O' rags or sticks a-left behind.</p>
+  <p>An' there the unlatch'd doors did creak,</p>
+  <p>A-swung by winds, a-stream&egrave;n weak</p>
+  <p>Drough empty rooms, an' me&auml;k&egrave;n sad</p>
+  <p>My heart, where me'th woonce me&auml;de me glad.</p>
+  <p>Vor when a man do le&auml;ve the he'th</p>
+  <p>An' ruf where vu'st he drew his breath,</p>
+  <p>Or where he had his bwoyhood's fun,</p>
+  <p>An' things wer woonce a-zaid an' done</p>
+  <p>That took his mind, do touch his heart</p>
+  <p>A little bit, I'll answer vor't.</p>
+  <p>Zoo ridd&egrave;n house is such a caddle,</p>
+  <p>That I would rather keep my staddle.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page8" id="page8"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;8]</span>
+
+<h4>EASTER ZUNDAY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Last Easter Jim put on his blue</p>
+<p>Frock cwoat, the vu'st time&mdash;vier new;</p>
+<p>Wi' yollow buttons all o' brass,</p>
+<p>That glitter'd in the zun lik' glass;</p>
+<p>An' pok'd 'ithin the button-hole</p>
+<p>A tutty he'd a-begg'd or stole.</p>
+<p>A span-new wes'co't, too, he wore,</p>
+<p>Wi' yollow stripes all down avore;</p>
+<p>An' tied his breeches' lags below</p>
+<p>The knee, wi' ribbon in a bow;</p>
+<p>An' drow'd his kitty-boots azide,</p>
+<p>An' put his lagg&egrave;ns on, an' tied</p>
+<p>His shoes wi' strings two vingers wide,</p>
+    <p class="i6">Because 'twer Easter Zunday.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' after morn&egrave;n church wer out</p>
+<p>He come back hwome, an' stroll'd about</p>
+<p>All down the vields, an' drough the le&auml;ne,</p>
+<p>Wi' sister Kit an' cousin Je&auml;ne,</p>
+<p>A-turn&egrave;n proudly to their view</p>
+<p>His yollow breast an' back o' blue.</p>
+<p>The lambs did pla&yuml;, the grounds wer green,</p>
+<p>The trees did bud, the zun did sheen;</p>
+<p>The lark did zing below the sky,</p>
+<p>An' roads wer all a-blown so dry,</p>
+<p>As if the zummer wer begun;</p>
+<p>An' he had sich a bit o' fun!</p>
+<p>He me&auml;de the ma&iuml;dens sque&auml;l an' run,</p>
+    <p class="i6">Because 'twer Easter Zunday.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="page9" id="page9"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;9]</span>
+
+<h4>EASTER MONDAY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo o' Monday we got drough</p>
+<p>Our work betimes, an ax'd a vew</p>
+<p>Young vo'k vrom Stowe an' Coom, an' zome</p>
+<p>Vrom uncle's down at Grange, to come.</p>
+<p>An' they so spry, wi' merry smiles,</p>
+<p>Did be&auml;t the path an' le&auml;p the stiles,</p>
+<p>Wi' two or dree young chaps bezide,</p>
+<p>To meet an' keep up Easter tide:</p>
+<p>Vor we'd a-zaid avore, we'd git</p>
+<p>Zome friends to come, an' have a bit</p>
+<p>O' fun wi' me, an' Je&auml;ne, an' Kit,</p>
+      <p class="i6">Because 'twer Easter Monday.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there we pla&yuml;'d away at qua&iuml;ts,</p>
+<p>An' weigh'd ourzelves wi' sce&auml;les an' wa&iuml;ghts;</p>
+<p>An' jump'd to zee who jump'd the spryest,</p>
+<p>An' sprung the vurdest an' the highest;</p>
+<p>An' rung the bells vor vull an hour.</p>
+<p>An' pla&yuml;'d at vives age&auml;n the tower.</p>
+<p>An' then we went an' had a ta&iuml;t,</p>
+<p>An' cousin Sammy, wi' his wa&iuml;ght,</p>
+<p>Broke off the bar, he wer so fat!</p>
+<p>An' toppled off, an' vell down flat</p>
+<p>Upon his head, an' squot his hat,</p>
+      <p class="i6">Because 'twer Easter Monday.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p9" id="p9"></a>
+
+<h4>DOCK-LEAVES.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The dock-leaves that do spread so wide</p>
+<p>Up yonder zunny bank's green zide,</p>
+<p>Do bring to mind what we did do</p>
+<p>At pla&yuml; wi' dock-leaves years agoo:</p><a name="page10" id="page10"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;10]</span>
+<p>How we,&mdash;when nettles had a-stung</p>
+<p>Our little hands, when we wer young,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Did rub em wi' a dock, an' zing</p>
+<p>"<i>Out nettl', in dock. In dock, out sting.</i>"</p>
+<p>An' when your fe&auml;ce, in zummer's het,</p>
+<p>Did sheen wi' trickl&egrave;n draps o' zweat,</p>
+<p>How you, a-zot bezide the bank,</p>
+<p>Didst toss your little head, an' pank,</p>
+<p>An' te&auml;ke a dock-leaf in your han',</p>
+<p>An' whisk en lik' a le&auml;dy's fan;</p>
+<p>While I did hunt, 'ithin your zight,</p>
+<p>Vor streaky cockle-shells to fight.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In all our pla&yuml;-ge&auml;mes we did bruise</p>
+<p>The dock-leaves wi' our nimble shoes;</p>
+<p>Bwoth where we merry chaps did fling</p>
+<p>You ma&iuml;dens in the orcha'd swing,</p>
+<p>An' by the zaw-pit's dousty bank,</p>
+<p>Where we did ta&iuml;t upon a plank.</p>
+<p>&mdash;(D'ye mind how woonce, you cou'den zit</p>
+<p>The bwoard, an' vell off into pit?)</p>
+<p>An' when we hunted you about</p>
+<p>The grassy barken, in an' out</p>
+<p>Among the ricks, your vl&egrave;e-&egrave;n frocks</p>
+<p>An' nimble veet did strik' the docks.</p>
+<p>An' zoo they docks, a-spread so wide</p>
+<p>Up yonder zunny bank's green zide,</p>
+<p>Do bring to mind what we did do,</p>
+<p>Among the dock-leaves years agoo.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p10" id="p10"></a>
+
+<h4>THE BLACKBIRD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ov all the birds upon the wing</p>
+<p>Between the zunny show'rs o' spring,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Vor all the lark, a-swing&egrave;n high,</p>
+<p>Mid zing below a cloudless sky.</p><a name="page11" id="page11"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;11]</span>
+<p>An' sparrows, clust'r&egrave;n roun' the bough,</p>
+<p>Mid chatter to the men at plough,&mdash;</p>
+<p>The blackbird, whissl&egrave;n in among</p>
+<p>The boughs, do zing the ga&yuml;est zong.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor we do hear the blackbird zing</p>
+<p>His sweetest ditties in the spring,</p>
+<p>When nipp&egrave;n win's noo mwore do blow</p>
+<p>Vrom northern skies, wi' sleet or snow,</p>
+<p>But dr&#275;ve light doust along between</p>
+<p>The le&auml;ne-zide hedges, thick an' green;</p>
+<p>An' zoo the blackbird in among</p>
+<p>The boughs do zing the ga&yuml;est zong.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis blithe, wi' newly-open'd eyes,</p>
+<p>To zee the morn&egrave;n's ruddy skies;</p>
+<p>Or, out a-haul&egrave;n frith or lops</p>
+<p>Vrom new-pl&#275;sh'd hedge or new-vell'd copse,</p>
+<p>To rest at noon in primrwose beds</p>
+<p>Below the white-bark'd woak-trees' heads;</p>
+<p>But there's noo time, the whole d&auml;y long,</p>
+<p>Lik' even&egrave;n wi' the blackbird's zong.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor when my work is all a-done</p>
+<p>Avore the zett&egrave;n o' the zun,</p>
+<p>Then blush&egrave;n Je&auml;ne do walk along</p>
+<p>The hedge to meet me in the drong,</p>
+<p>An' sta&yuml; till all is dim an' dark</p>
+<p>Bezides the ashen tree's white bark;</p>
+<p>An' all bezides the blackbird's shrill</p>
+<p>An' runn&egrave;n even&egrave;n-whissle's still.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there in bwoyhood I did rove</p>
+<p>Wi' pry&egrave;n eyes along the drove</p>
+<p>To vind the nest the blackbird me&auml;de</p>
+<p>O' grass-stalks in the high bough's she&auml;de:</p><a name="page12" id="page12"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;12]</span>
+<p>Or clim' aloft, wi' cling&egrave;n knees,</p>
+<p>Vor crows' aggs up in swa&yuml;&egrave;n trees,</p>
+<p>While frighten'd blackbirds down below</p>
+<p>Did chatter o' their little foe.</p>
+<p>An' zoo there's noo ple&auml;ce lik' the drong,</p>
+<p>Where I do hear the blackbird's zong.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p12" id="p12"></a>
+
+<h4>WOODCOM' FEAST.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come, Fanny, come! put on thy white,</p>
+<p>'Tis Woodcom' fe&auml;st, good now! to-night.</p>
+<p>Come! think noo mwore, you silly ma&iuml;d,</p>
+<p>O' chick&egrave;n drown'd, or ducks a-stra&yuml;'d;</p>
+<p>Nor mwope to vind thy new frock's ta&iuml;l</p>
+<p>A-tore by hitch&egrave;n in a na&iuml;l;</p>
+<p>Nor grieve an' hang thy head azide,</p>
+<p>A-think&egrave;n o' thy lam' that died.</p>
+<p>The flag's a-vle&egrave;n wide an' high,</p>
+<p>An' ring&egrave;n bells do she&auml;ke the sky;</p>
+<p>The fifes do play, the horns do roar,</p>
+<p>An' boughs be up at ev'ry door:</p>
+<p>They 'll be a-danc&egrave;n soon,&mdash;the drum</p>
+<p>'S a-rumbl&egrave;n now. Come, Fanny, come!</p>
+<p>Why father's gone, an' mother too.</p>
+<p>They went up le&auml;ne an hour agoo;</p>
+<p>An' at the green the young and wold</p>
+<p>Do stan' so thick as sheep in vwold:</p>
+<p>The men do laugh, the bwoys do shout,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Come out you mwop&egrave;n wench, come out,</p>
+<p>An' go wi' me, an' show at le&auml;st</p>
+<p>Bright eyes an' smiles at Woodcom' fe&auml;st.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come, let's goo out, an' fling our heels</p>
+<p>About in jigs an' vow'r-han' reels;</p>
+<p>While &auml;ll the stiff-lagg'd wolder vo'k,</p>
+<p>A-zitt&egrave;n roun', do talk an' joke</p><a name="page13" id="page13"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;13]</span>
+<p>An' smile to zee their own wold rigs.</p>
+<p>A-show'd by our wild ge&auml;mes an' jigs.</p>
+<p>Vor ever since the vwold church speer</p>
+<p>Vu'st prick'd the clouds, vrom year to year,</p>
+<p>When grass in me&auml;d did reach woone's knees,</p>
+<p>An' blooth did kern in apple-trees,</p>
+<p>Zome merry day 'v' a-broke to sheen</p>
+<p>Above the dance at Woodcom' green,</p>
+<p>An' all o' they that now do lie</p>
+<p>So low all roun' the speer so high,</p>
+<p>Woonce, vrom the biggest to the le&auml;st,</p>
+<p>Had merry hearts at Woodcom' fe&auml;st.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo keep it up, an' gi'e it on</p>
+<p>To other vo'k when we be gone.</p>
+<p>Come otit; vor when the zett&egrave;n zun</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;ve in she&auml;de our harmless fun,</p>
+<p>The moon a-ris&egrave;n in the east</p>
+<p>Do gi'e us light at Woodcom' fe&auml;st.</p>
+<p>Come, Fanny, come! put on thy white,</p>
+<p>'Tis merry Woodcom' fe&auml;st to night:</p>
+<p>There's noth&egrave;n vor to mwope about,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Come out, you le&auml;zy je&auml;de, come out!</p>
+<p>An' thou wult be, to woone at le&auml;st,</p>
+<p>The prettiest ma&iuml;d at Woodcom' fe&auml;st.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p13" id="p13"></a>
+
+<h4>THE MILK-MAID O' THE FARM.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O Poll's the milk-ma&iuml;d o' the farm!</p>
+  <p class="i2">An' Poll's so happy out in groun',</p>
+<p>Wi' her white pa&iuml;l below her e&auml;rm</p>
+  <p class="i2">As if she wore a goolden crown.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' Poll don't zit up half the night,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Nor lie vor half the day a-bed;</p>
+<p>An' zoo her eyes be sparkl&egrave;n bright,</p>
+  <p class="i2">An' zoo her che&auml;ks be bloom&egrave;n red.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page14" id="page14"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;14]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In zummer morn&egrave;ns, when the lark</p>
+  <p class="i2">Do rouse the litty lad an' lass</p>
+<p>To work, then she's the vu'st to mark</p>
+  <p class="i2">Her steps along the dewy grass.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' in the even&egrave;n, when the zun</p>
+  <p class="i2">Do sheen age&auml;n the western brows</p>
+<p>O' hills, where bubbl&egrave;n brooks do run,</p>
+  <p class="i2">There she do zing bezide her cows.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' ev'ry cow of hers do stand,</p>
+  <p class="i2">An' never overzet her pa&iuml;l;</p>
+<p>Nor try to kick her nimble hand,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Nor switch her wi' her heavy ta&iuml;l.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Noo le&auml;dy, wi' her muff an' va&iuml;l,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Do walk wi' sich a ste&auml;tely tread</p>
+<p>As she do, wi' her milk&egrave;n pa&iuml;l</p>
+  <p class="i2">A-balanc'd on her comely head.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' she, at morn&egrave;n an' at night,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Do skim the yollow cream, an' mwold</p>
+<p>An' wring her cheeses red an' white,</p>
+  <p class="i2">An' zee the butter vetch'd an' roll'd.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' in the barken or the ground,</p>
+  <p class="i2">The chaps do always do their best</p>
+<p>To milk the vu'st their own cows round,</p>
+  <p class="i2">An' then help her to milk the rest.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo Poll's the milk-ma&iuml;d o' the farm!</p>
+  <p class="i2">An' Poll's so happy out in groun',</p>
+<p>Wi' her white pa&iuml;l below her e&auml;rm,</p>
+  <p class="i2">As if she wore a goolden crown.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+<a name="page15" id="page15"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;15]</span>
+
+
+<h4>THE GIRT WOAK TREE THAT'S IN THE DELL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The girt woak tree that's in the dell!</p>
+  <p>There's noo tree I do love so well;</p>
+  <p>Vor times an' times when I wer young,</p>
+  <p>I there've a-climb'd, an' there've a-zwung,</p>
+  <p>An' pick'd the e&auml;corns green, a-shed</p>
+  <p>In wrestl&egrave;n storms vrom his broad head.</p>
+  <p>An' down below's the cloty brook</p>
+  <p>Where I did vish with line an' hook,</p>
+  <p>An' be&auml;t, in pla&yuml;some dips and zwims,</p>
+  <p>The foamy stream, wi' white-skinn'd lim's.</p>
+  <p>An' there my mother nimbly shot</p>
+  <p>Her knitt&egrave;n-needles, as she zot</p>
+  <p>At even&egrave;n down below the wide</p>
+  <p>Woak's head, wi' father at her zide.</p>
+  <p>An' I've a-pla&yuml;ed wi' many a bwoy,</p>
+  <p>That's now a man an' gone awoy;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Zoo I do like noo tree so well</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' there, in le&auml;ter years, I roved</p>
+  <p>Wi' thik poor ma&iuml;d I fondly lov'd,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>The ma&iuml;d too fe&auml;ir to die so soon,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>When even&egrave;n twilight, or the moon,</p>
+  <p>Cast light enough 'ithin the ple&auml;ce</p>
+  <p>To show the smiles upon her fe&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p>Wi' eyes so clear's the glassy pool,</p>
+  <p>An' lips an' che&auml;ks so soft as wool.</p>
+  <p>There han' in han', wi' bosoms warm,</p>
+  <p>Wi' love that burn'd but thought noo harm,</p>
+  <p>Below the wide-bough'd tree we past</p>
+  <p>The happy hours that went too vast;</p>
+  <p>An' though she'll never be my wife,</p>
+  <p>She's still my le&auml;den star o' life.</p><a name="page16" id="page16"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;16]</span>
+  <p>She's gone: an' she've a-left to me</p>
+  <p>Her mem'ry in the girt woak tree;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Zoo I do love noo tree so well</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' oh! mid never ax nor hook</p>
+  <p>Be brought to spweil his ste&auml;tely look;</p>
+  <p>Nor ever roun' his ribby zides</p>
+  <p>Mid cattle rub ther he&auml;iry hides;</p>
+  <p>Nor pigs rout up his turf, but keep</p>
+  <p>His lwonesome she&auml;de vor harmless sheep;</p>
+  <p>An' let en grow, an' let en spread,</p>
+  <p>An' let en live when I be dead.</p>
+  <p>But oh! if men should come an' vell</p>
+  <p>The girt woak tree that's in the dell,</p>
+  <p>An' build his planks 'ithin the zide</p>
+  <p>O' zome girt ship to plough the tide,</p>
+  <p>Then, life or death! I'd goo to sea,</p>
+  <p>A sa&iuml;l&egrave;n wi' the girt woak tree:</p>
+  <p>An' I upon his planks would stand,</p>
+  <p>An' die a-fight&egrave;n vor the land,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>The land so dear,&mdash;the land so free,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>The land that bore the girt woak tree;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor I do love noo tree so well</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="p16" id="p16"></a>
+
+<h4>VELLEN O' THE TREE.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, the girt elem tree out in little hwome groun'</p>
+<p>Wer a-stann&egrave;n this morn&egrave;n, an' now's a-cut down.</p>
+<p>Aye, the girt elem tree, so big roun' an' so high,</p>
+<p>Where the mowers did goo to their drink, an' did lie</p>
+<p>In the she&auml;de ov his head, when the zun at his heighth</p>
+<p>Had a-drove em vrom mow&egrave;n, wi' het an' wi' dr&icirc;th,</p><a name="page17" id="page17"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;17]</span>
+<p>Where the ha&yuml;-me&auml;kers put all their picks an' their re&auml;kes,</p>
+<p>An' did squot down to snabble their cheese an' their ce&auml;kes,</p>
+<p>An' did vill vrom their flaggons their cups wi' their e&auml;le,</p>
+<p>An' did me&auml;ke theirzelves merry wi' joke an' wi' te&auml;le.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ees, we took up a rwope an' we tied en all round</p>
+<p>At the top o'n, wi' woone end a-hang&egrave;n to ground,</p>
+<p>An' we cut, near the ground, his girt stem a'most drough,</p>
+<p>An' we bent the wold head o'n wi' woone tug or two;</p>
+<p>An' he sway'd all his limbs, an' he nodded his head,</p>
+T<p>ill he vell away down like a pillar o' lead:</p>
+<p>An' as we did run vrom en, there; clwose at our backs,</p>
+<p>Oh! his boughs come to groun' wi' sich whizzes an' cracks;</p>
+<p>An' his top wer so lofty that, now he is down,</p>
+<p>The stem o'n do reach a-most over the groun'.</p>
+<p>Zoo the girt elem tree out in little hwome groun'</p>
+<p>Wer a-stann&egrave;n this morn&egrave;n, an' now's a-cut down.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p17" id="p17"></a>
+
+<h4>BRINGEN WOONE GWA&Iuml;N<a href="#p17n"><sup>*</sup></a> O' ZUNDAYS.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! John! how I do love to look</p>
+<p>At the&auml;se green hollor, an' the brook</p>
+<p>Among the withies that do hide</p>
+<p>The stream, a-grow&egrave;n at the zide;</p>
+<p>An' at the road athirt the wide</p>
+  <p class="i2">An' shallow vword, where we young bwoys</p>
+  <p class="i2">Did pe&auml;rt, when we did goo half-woys,</p>
+    <p class="i4">To bring ye gwa&iuml;n o' Zundays.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor after church, when we got hwome,</p>
+<p>In even&egrave;n you did always come</p>
+<p>To spend a happy hour or two</p>
+<p>Wi' us, or we did goo to you;</p><a name="page18" id="page18"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;18]</span>
+<p>An' never let the comers goo</p>
+  <p class="i2">Back hwome alwone, but always took</p>
+  <p class="i2">A stroll down wi' em to the brook</p>
+    <p class="i4">To bring em gwa&iuml;n o' Zundays.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How we did scote all down the groun',</p>
+<p>A-push&egrave;n woone another down!</p>
+<p>Or challeng&egrave;n o' zides in jumps</p>
+<p>Down over bars, an' vuzz, an' humps;</p>
+<p>An' pe&auml;rt at last wi' slaps an' thumps,</p>
+  <p class="i2">An' run back up the hill to zee</p>
+  <p class="i2">Who'd get hwome soonest, you or we.</p>
+    <p class="i4">That brought ye gwa&iuml;n o' Zundays.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O' le&auml;ter years, John, you've a-stood</p>
+<p>My friend, an' I've a-done you good;</p>
+<p>But tidden, John, vor all that you</p>
+<p>Be now, that I do like ye zoo,</p>
+<p>But what you wer vor years agoo:</p>
+  <p class="i2">Zoo if you'd stir my heart-blood now.</p>
+  <p class="i2">Tell how we used to play, an' how</p>
+    <p class="i4">You brought us gwa&iuml;n o' Zundays.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<a name="p17n" id="p17n"></a>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;"><a href="#p17"><sup>*</sup></a> "To bring woone gwa&iuml;n,"&mdash;to bring one going;</span></p>
+<p class="i2"><span style="font-size: smaller;">to bring one on his way.</span></p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p18" id="p18"></a>
+
+<h4>EVEN&Egrave;N TWILIGHT.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! they vew zummers brought us round</p>
+<p>The happiest days that we've a-vound,</p>
+<p>When in the orcha'd, that did stratch</p>
+<p>To westward out avore the patch</p>
+<p>Ov high-bough'd wood, an' shelve to catch</p>
+  <p class="i2">The western zun-light, we did meet</p>
+  <p class="i2">Wi' merry tongues an' skipp&egrave;n veet</p>
+    <p class="i4">At even&egrave;n in the twilight.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The even&egrave;n a&iuml;r did fan, in turn,</p>
+<p>The che&auml;ks the midday zun did burn.</p><a name="page19" id="page19"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;19]</span>
+<p>An' zet the russl&egrave;n leaves at pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;ke the red-stemm'd brembles sway</p>
+<p>In bows below the snow-white ma&yuml;;</p>
+  <p class="i2">An' whirl&egrave;n roun' the trees, did she&auml;ke</p>
+  <p class="i2">Je&auml;ne's raven curls about her neck,</p>
+    <p class="i4">They even&egrave;ns in the twilight.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there the yollow light did rest</p>
+<p>Upon the bank tow&aacute;rd the west,</p>
+<p>An' twitt'r&egrave;n birds did hop in drough</p>
+<p>The hedge, an' many a skipp&egrave;n shoe</p>
+<p>Did be&auml;t the flowers, wet wi' dew,</p>
+  <p class="i2">As underne&auml;th the tree's wide limb</p>
+  <p class="i2">Our merry she&auml;pes did jumpy, dim,</p>
+    <p class="i4">They even&egrave;ns in the twilight.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How sweet's the even&egrave;n dusk to rove</p>
+<p>Along wi' woone that we do love!</p>
+<p>When light enough is in the sky</p>
+<p>To she&auml;de the smile an' light the eye</p>
+<p>'Tis all but heaven to be by;</p>
+  <p class="i2">An' bid, in whispers soft an' light</p>
+  <p class="i2">'S the rusl&egrave;n ov a leaf, "Good night,"</p>
+    <p class="i4">At even&egrave;n in the twilight.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' happy be the young an' strong,</p>
+<p>That can but work the whole day long</p>
+<p>So merry as the birds in spring;</p>
+<p>An' have noo ho vor any thing</p>
+<p>Another day mid te&auml;ke or bring;</p>
+  <p class="i2">But meet, when all their work's a-done,</p>
+  <p class="i2">In orcha'd vor their bit o' fun</p>
+    <p class="i4">At even&egrave;n in the twilight.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page20" id="page20"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;20]</span>
+
+<h4>EVEN&Egrave;N IN THE VILLAGE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Now the light o' the west is a-turn'd to gloom,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' the men be at hwome vrom ground;</p>
+  <p>An' the bells be a-zend&egrave;n all down the Coombe</p>
+    <p class="i2">From tower, their mwoansome sound.</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' the wind is still,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' the house-dogs do bark,</p>
+  <p>An' the rooks be a-vled to the elems high an' dark,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' the water do roar at mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' the flicker&egrave;n light drough the window-pe&auml;ne</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vrom the candle's dull fle&auml;me do shoot,</p>
+  <p>An' young Jemmy the smith is a-gone down le&auml;ne,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-pla&yuml;&egrave;n his shrill-va&iuml;ced flute.</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' the miller's man</p>
+      <p class="i4">Do zit down at his ease</p>
+  <p>On the seat that is under the cluster o' trees.</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' his pipe an' his cider can.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p20" id="p20"></a>
+
+<h4>MAY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come out o' door, 'tis Spring! 'tis Ma&yuml;</p>
+<p>The trees be green, the vields be ga&yuml;;</p>
+<p>The weather's warm, the winter blast,</p>
+<p>Wi' all his tra&iuml;n o' clouds, is past;</p>
+<p>The zun do rise while vo'k do sleep,</p>
+<p>To te&auml;ke a higher daily zweep,</p>
+<p>Wi' cloudless fe&auml;ce a-fling&egrave;n down</p>
+<p>His sparkl&egrave;n light upon the groun'.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The air's a-stream&egrave;n soft,&mdash;come drow</p>
+<p>The windor open; let it blow</p><a name="page21" id="page21"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;21]</span>
+<p>In drough the house, where vire, an' door</p>
+<p>A-shut, kept out the cwold avore.</p>
+<p>Come, let the vew dull embers die,</p>
+<p>An' come below the open sky;</p>
+<p>An' wear your best, vor fear the groun'</p>
+<p>In colours ga&yuml; mid she&auml;me your gown:</p>
+<p>An' goo an' rig wi' me a mile</p>
+<p>Or two up over ge&auml;te an' stile,</p>
+<p>Drough zunny parrocks that do le&auml;d,</p>
+<p>Wi' crooked hedges, to the me&auml;d,</p>
+<p>Where elems high, in ste&auml;tely ranks,</p>
+<p>Do rise vrom yollow cowslip-banks,</p>
+<p>An' birds do twitter vrom the spra&yuml;</p>
+<p>O' bushes deck'd wi' snow-white ma&yuml;;</p>
+<p>An' gil'cups, wi' the de&auml;isy bed,</p>
+<p>Be under ev'ry step you tread.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>We'll wind up roun' the hill, an' look</p>
+<p>All down the thickly-timber'd nook,</p>
+<p>Out where the squier's house do show</p>
+<p>His grey-wall'd peaks up drough the row</p>
+<p>O' she&auml;dy elems, where the rook</p>
+<p>Do build her nest; an' where the brook</p>
+<p>Do creep along the me&auml;ds, an' lie</p>
+<p>To catch the brightness o' the sky;</p>
+<p>An' cows, in water to the&iuml;r knees,</p>
+<p>Do stan' a-whisk&egrave;n off the vlees.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Mother o' blossoms, and ov all</p>
+<p>That's fe&auml;ir a-yield vrom Spring till Fall,</p>
+<p>The gookoo over white-we&auml;v'd seas</p>
+<p>Do come to zing in thy green trees,</p>
+<p>An' buttervlees, in giddy flight,</p>
+<p>Do gle&auml;m the mwost by thy ga&yuml; light</p>
+<p>Oh! when, at last, my fleshly eyes</p>
+<p>Shall shut upon the vields an' skies,</p><a name="page22" id="page22"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;22]</span>
+<p>Mid zummer's zunny days be gone,</p>
+<p>An' winter's clouds be com&egrave;n on:</p>
+<p>Nor mid I draw upon the e'th,</p>
+<p>O' thy sweet a&iuml;r my le&auml;test breath;</p>
+<p>Alassen I mid want to sta&yuml;</p>
+<p>Behine' for thee, O flow'ry May!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p22" id="p22"></a>
+
+<h4>BOB THE FIDDLER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Oh! Bob the fiddler is the pride</p>
+  <p>O' chaps an' ma&iuml;dens vur an' wide;</p>
+  <p>They can't keep up a merry tide,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But Bob is in the middle.</p>
+  <p>If merry Bob do come avore ye,</p>
+  <p>He'll zing a zong, or tell a story;</p>
+  <p>But if you'd zee en in his glory,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Jist let en have a fiddle.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Aye, let en tuck a crowd below</p>
+  <p>His chin, an' gi'e his vist a bow,</p>
+  <p>He'll dreve his elbow to an' fro',</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' pla&yuml; what you do please.</p>
+  <p>At Maypol&egrave;n, or fe&auml;st, or fe&auml;ir,</p>
+  <p>His e&auml;rm wull zet off twenty pe&auml;ir,</p>
+  <p>An' me&auml;ke em dance the groun' dirt-be&auml;re,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' hop about lik' vlees.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Long life to Bob! the very soul</p>
+  <p>O' me'th at merry fe&auml;st an' pole;</p>
+  <p>Vor when the crowd do le&auml;ve his jowl,</p>
+    <p class="i2">They'll all be in the dumps.</p>
+  <p>Zoo at the dance another year,</p>
+  <p>At <i>Shillinston</i> or <i>Hazelbur'</i>,</p>
+  <p>Mid Bob be there to me&auml;ke em stir,</p>
+    <p class="i2">In merry jigs, their stumps!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page23" id="page23"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;23]</span>
+
+<h4>HOPE IN SPRING</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>In happy times a while agoo,</p>
+    <p class="i2">My lively hope, that's now a-gone</p>
+  <p>Did stir my heart the whole year drough,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But mwost when green-bough'd spring come on;</p>
+  <p>When I did rove, wi' litty veet,</p>
+  <p>Drough de&auml;isy-beds so white's a sheet,</p>
+  <p>But still avore I us'd to meet</p>
+    <p class="i2">The blush&egrave;n che&auml;ks that bloom'd vor me!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' afterward, in lightsome youth,</p>
+   <p class="i2">When zummer wer a-com&egrave;n on,</p>
+  <p>An' all the trees wer white wi' blooth,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' dipp&egrave;n zwallows skimm'd the pon';</p>
+  <p>Sweet hope did vill my heart wi' ja&yuml;,</p>
+  <p>An' tell me, though thik spring wer ga&yuml;,</p>
+  <p>There still would come a brighter Ma&yuml;,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' blush&egrave;n che&auml;ks to bloom vor me!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when, at last, the time come roun',</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' brought a lofty zun to sheen</p>
+  <p>Upon my smil&egrave;n Fanny, down</p>
+    <p class="i2">Drough n&#275;sh young leaves o' yollow green;</p>
+  <p>How charm&egrave;n wer the het that glow'd,</p>
+  <p>How charm&egrave;n wer the she&auml;de a-drow'd,</p>
+  <p>How charm&egrave;n wer the win' that blow'd</p>
+    <p class="i2">Upon her che&auml;ks that bloom'd vor me!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>But hardly did they times begin,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Avore I vound em short to sta&yuml;:</p>
+  <p>An' year by year do now come in,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To pe&auml;rt me wider vrom my ja&yuml;,</p>
+  <p>Vor what's to meet, or what's to pe&auml;rt,</p>
+  <p>Wi' ma&iuml;dens kind, or ma&iuml;dens smart,</p>
+  <p>When hope's noo longer in the heart,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' che&auml;ks noo mwore do bloom vor me!</p></div>
+
+<a name="page24" id="page24"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;24]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>But there's a worold still to bless</p>
+    <p class="i2">The good, where zickness never rose;</p>
+  <p>An' there's a year that's winterless,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Where glassy waters never vroze;</p>
+  <p>An' there, if true but e'thly love</p>
+  <p>Do seem noo sin to God above,</p>
+  <p>'S a smil&egrave;n still my harmless dove,</p>
+    <p class="i2">So fe&auml;ir as when she bloom'd vor me!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p24" id="p24"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WHITE ROAD UP ATHIRT THE HILL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When hot-beam'd zuns do strik right down,</p>
+  <p>An' burn our zweaty fe&auml;zen brown;</p>
+  <p>An' zunny slopes, a-ly&egrave;n nigh,</p>
+  <p>Be back'd by hills so blue's the sky;</p>
+  <p>Then, while the bells do sweetly cheem</p>
+  <p>Upon the champ&egrave;n high-neck'd team,</p>
+  <p>How lively, wi' a friend, do seem</p>
+    <p class="i2">The white road up athirt the hill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The zwell&egrave;n downs, wi' chalky tracks</p>
+  <p>A-climm&egrave;n up their zunny backs,</p>
+  <p>Do hide green me&auml;ds an' zedgy brooks.</p>
+  <p>An' clumps o' trees wi' glossy rooks,</p>
+  <p>An' hearty vo'k to laugh an' zing,</p>
+  <p>An' parish-churches in a string,</p>
+  <p>Wi' tow'rs o' merry bells to ring,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' white roads up athirt the hills.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>At fe&auml;st, when uncle's vo'k do come</p>
+  <p>To spend the day wi' us at hwome,</p>
+  <p>An' we do lay upon the bwoard</p>
+  <p>The very best we can avvword,</p>
+  <p>The wolder woones do talk an' smoke,</p>
+  <p>An' younger woones do pla&yuml; an' joke,</p>
+  <p>An' in the even&egrave;n all our vo'k</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do bring em gwa&iuml;n athirt the hill.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page25" id="page25"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;25]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' while the green do zwarm wi' wold</p>
+  <p>An' young, so thick as sheep in vwold,</p>
+  <p>The bellows in the blacksmith's shop,</p>
+  <p>An' miller's moss-green wheel do stop,</p>
+  <p>An' lwonesome in the wheelwright's shed</p>
+  <p>'S a-left the wheelless waggon-bed;</p>
+  <p>While zwarms o' com&egrave;n friends do tread</p>
+    <p class="i2">The white road down athirt the hill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when the wind&egrave;n road so white,</p>
+  <p>A-climm&egrave;n up the hills in zight,</p>
+  <p>Do le&auml;d to ple&auml;zen, east or west,</p>
+  <p>The vu'st a-known, an' lov'd the best,</p>
+  <p>How touch&egrave;n in the zunsheen's glow,</p>
+  <p>Or in the she&auml;des that clouds do drow</p>
+  <p>Upon the zunburnt downs below,</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S the white road up athirt the hill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>What peaceful hollows here the long</p>
+  <p>White roads do windy round among!</p>
+  <p>Wi' de&auml;iry cows in woody nooks,</p>
+  <p>An' hayme&auml;kers among their pooks,</p>
+  <p>An' housen that the trees do screen</p>
+  <p>From zun an' zight by boughs o' green!</p>
+  <p>Young blush&egrave;n beauty's hwomes between</p>
+    <p class="i2">The white roads up athirt the hills.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p25" id="p25"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WOODY HOLLOW.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>If mem'ry, when our hope's a-gone,</p>
+  <p>Could bring us dreams to cheat us on,</p>
+  <p>Ov happiness our hearts voun' true</p>
+  <p>In years we come too quickly drough;</p>
+  <p>What days should come to me, but you,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That burn'd my youthvul che&auml;ks wi' zuns</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' zummer, in my pla&yuml;some runs</p>
+      <p class="i4">About the woody hollow.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page26" id="page26"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;26]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When even&egrave;n's ris&egrave;n moon did peep</p>
+  <p>Down drough the hollow dark an' deep,</p>
+  <p>Where giggl&egrave;n sweethearts me&auml;de their vows</p>
+  <p>In whispers under wagg&egrave;n boughs;</p>
+  <p>When whissl&egrave;n bwoys, an' rott'l&egrave;n ploughs</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wer still, an' mothers, wi' their thin</p>
+    <p class="i2">Shrill va&iuml;ces, call'd their daughters in,</p>
+      <p class="i4">From walk&egrave;n in the hollow;</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>What souls should come avore my zight,</p>
+  <p>But they that had your zummer light?</p>
+  <p>The litsome younger woones that smil'd</p>
+  <p>Wi' comely fe&auml;zen now a-spweil'd;</p>
+  <p>Or wolder vo'k, so wise an' mild,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That I do miss when I do goo</p>
+    <p class="i2">To zee the ple&auml;ce, an' walk down drough</p>
+      <p class="i4">The lwonesome woody hollow?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When wrongs an' overbear&egrave;n words</p>
+  <p>Do prick my bleed&egrave;n heart lik' swords,</p>
+  <p>Then I do try, vor Christes se&auml;ke,</p>
+  <p>To think o' you, sweet days! an' me&auml;ke</p>
+  <p>My soul as 'twer when you did we&auml;ke</p>
+    <p class="i2">My childhood's eyes, an' when, if spite</p>
+    <p class="i2">Or grief did come, did die at night</p>
+      <p class="i4">In sleep 'ithin the hollow.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p26" id="p26"></a>
+
+<h4>JENNY'S RIBBONS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Jean ax'd what ribbon she should wear</p>
+<p>'Ithin her bonnet to the fe&auml;ir?</p>
+<p>She had woone white, a-gi'ed her when</p>
+<p>She stood at Me&auml;ry's chrissen&egrave;n;</p>
+<p>She had woone brown, she had woone red,</p>
+<p>A keepse&auml;ke vrom her brother dead,</p><a name="page27" id="page27"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;27]</span>
+<p>That she did like to wear, to goo</p>
+<p>To zee his gre&auml;ve below the yew.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She had woone green among her stock,</p>
+<p>That I'd a-bought to match her frock;</p>
+<p>She had woone blue to match her eyes,</p>
+<p>The colour o' the zummer skies,</p>
+<p>An' thik, though I do like the rest,</p>
+<p>Is he that I do like the best,</p>
+<p>Because she had en in her he&auml;ir</p>
+<p>When vu'st I walk'd wi' her at fe&auml;ir.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The brown, I zaid, would do to deck</p>
+<p>Thy he&auml;ir; the white would match thy neck;</p>
+<p>The red would me&auml;ke thy red che&auml;k wan</p>
+<p>A-think&egrave;n o' the gi'er gone;</p>
+<p>The green would show thee to be true;</p>
+<p>But still I'd sooner zee the blue,</p>
+<p>Because 'twer he that deck'd thy he&auml;ir</p>
+<p>When vu'st I walk'd wi' thee at fe&auml;ir.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo, when she had en on, I took</p>
+<p>Her han' 'ithin my elbow's crook,</p>
+<p>An' off we went athirt the weir</p>
+<p>An' up the me&auml;d toward the fe&auml;ir;</p>
+<p>The while her mother, at the ge&auml;te,</p>
+<p>Call'd out an' bid her not sta&yuml; le&auml;te,</p>
+<p>An' she, a-smil&egrave;n wi' her bow</p>
+<p>O' blue, look'd roun' and nodded, <i>No</i>.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/wavy_rule2-120.png" width="120" height="7" alt="wavy rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+<a name="page28" id="page28"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;28]</span>
+
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<h3>THE 'LOTMENTS.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>John and Richard.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo you be in your groun' then, I do zee,</p>
+<p>A-work&egrave;n and a-zing&egrave;n lik' a bee.</p>
+<p>How do it answer? what d'ye think about it?</p>
+<p>D'ye think 'tis better wi' it than without it?</p>
+<p>A-reckn&egrave;n rent, an' time, an' zeed to stock it,</p>
+<p>D'ye think that you be any thing in pocket?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>RICHARD.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O', 'tis a goodish help to woone, I'm sure o't.</p>
+<p>If I had not a-got it, my poor bwones</p>
+<p>Would now ha' e&auml;ch'd a-crack&egrave;n stwones</p>
+<p>Upon the road; I wish I had zome mwore o't.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I wish the girt woones had a-got the gre&auml;ce</p>
+<p>To let out land lik' this in ouer ple&auml;ce;</p>
+<p>But I do fear there'll never be nwone vor us,</p>
+<p>An' I can't tell whatever we shall do:</p>
+<p>We be a-most starv&egrave;n, an' we'd goo</p>
+<p>To 'merica, if we'd enough to car us.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>RICHARD.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why 'twer the squire, good now! a worthy man,</p>
+<p>That vu'st brought into ouer ple&auml;ce the plan,</p>
+<p>He zaid he'd let a vew odd e&auml;cres</p>
+<p>O' land to us poor le&auml;b'r&egrave;n men;</p><a name="page29" id="page29"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;29]</span>
+<p>An', fa&iuml;th, he had enough o' te&auml;kers</p>
+<p>Vor that, an' twice so much age&auml;n.</p>
+<p>Zoo I took zome here, near my hovel,</p>
+<p>To exercise my spe&auml;de an' shovel;</p>
+<p>An' what wi' dung&egrave;n, digg&egrave;n up, an' zeed&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>A-thinn&egrave;n, cle&auml;n&egrave;n, how&egrave;n up an' weed&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>I, an' the biggest o' the childern too,</p>
+<p>Do always vind some useful jobs to do.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, wi' a bit o' ground, if woone got any,</p>
+<p>Woone's bwoys can soon get out an' e&auml;rn a penny;</p>
+<p>An' then, by work&egrave;n, they do learn the vaster</p>
+<p>The way to do things when they have a me&auml;ster;</p>
+<p>Vor woone must know a de&auml;l about the land</p>
+<p>Bevore woone's fit to lend a useful hand,</p>
+<p>In ge&auml;rden or a-vield upon a farm.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>RICHARD.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then the work do keep em out o' harm;</p>
+<p>Vor vo'ks that don't do noth&egrave;n wull be vound</p>
+<p>Soon do&egrave;n woorse than noth&egrave;n, I'll be bound.</p>
+<p>But as vor me, d'ye zee, with the&auml;se here bit</p>
+<p>O' land, why I have ev'ry thing a'mwost:</p>
+<p>Vor I can fatten vowels for the spit,</p>
+<p>Or zell a good fat goose or two to rwoast;</p>
+<p>An' have my be&auml;ns or cabbage, greens or grass,</p>
+<p>Or bit o' wheat, or, sich my happy fe&auml;te is,</p>
+<p>That I can keep a little cow, or ass,</p>
+<p>An' a vew pigs to eat the little te&auml;ties.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when your pig's a-fatted pretty well</p>
+<p>Wi' te&auml;ties, or wi' barley an' some bran,</p>
+<p>Why you've a-got zome vlitches vor to zell,</p>
+<p>Or hang in chimney-corner, if you can.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page30" id="page30"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;30]</span>
+
+<h5>RICHARD.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, that's the thing; an' when the pig do die,</p>
+<p>We got a lot ov offal for to fry,</p>
+<p>An' netl&egrave;ns for to bwoil; or put the blood in,</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;ke a meal or two o' good black-pudden.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I'd keep myzelf from parish, I'd be bound,</p>
+<p>If I could get a little patch o' ground.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+   <div class="figcenter"><img src="images/wavy_rule2-120.png" width="120" height="7" alt="wavy rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+<a name="p30" id="p30"></a>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<h3>A BIT O' SLY COORTEN.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>John and Fanny.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now, Fanny, 'tis too bad, you teaz&egrave;n ma&iuml;d!</p>
+<p>How le&auml;te you be a' come! Where have ye sta&yuml;'d?</p>
+<p>How long you have a-me&auml;de me wa&iuml;t about!</p>
+<p>I thought you werden gwa&iuml;n to come age&auml;n:</p>
+<p>I had a mind to goo back hwome age&auml;n.</p>
+<p>This idden when you promis'd to come out.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now 'tidden any good to me&auml;ke a row,</p>
+<p>Upon my word, I cooden come till now.</p>
+<p>Vor I've a-been kept in all day by mother,</p>
+<p>At work about woone little job an' t'other.</p>
+<p>If you do want to goo, though, don't ye sta&yuml;</p>
+<p>Vor me a minute longer, I do pra&yuml;.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page31" id="page31"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;31]</span>
+
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I thought you mid be out wi' Jemmy Ble&auml;ke,</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' why be out wi' him, vor goodness' se&auml;ke?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>You walk'd o' Zunday even&egrave;n wi'n, d'ye know,</p>
+<p>You went vrom church a-hitch'd up in his e&auml;rm.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, if I did, that werden any harm.</p>
+<p>Lauk! that <i>is</i> zome'at to te&auml;ke notice o'.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He took ye roun' the middle at the stile,</p>
+<p>An' kiss'd ye twice 'ithin the ha'f a mile.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ees, at the stile, because I shoulden vall,</p>
+<p>He took me hold to help me down, that's all;</p>
+<p>An' I can't zee what very mighty harm</p>
+<p>He could ha' done a-lend&egrave;n me his e&auml;rm.</p>
+<p>An' as vor kiss&egrave;n o' me, if he did,</p>
+<p>I didden ax en to, nor zay he mid:</p>
+<p>An' if he kiss'd me dree times, or a dozen,</p>
+<p>What harm wer it? Why idden he my cousin?</p>
+<p>An' I can't zee, then, what there is amiss</p>
+<p>In cousin Jem's jist gi'&egrave;n me a kiss.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, he shan't kiss ye, then; you shan't be kiss'd</p>
+<p>By his girt ugly chops, a lanky houn'!</p>
+<p>If I do zee'n, I'll jist wring up my vist</p>
+<p>An' knock en down.</p>
+<p>I'll squot his girt pug-nose, if I don't miss en;</p>
+<p>I'll warn I'll spweil his pretty lips vor kiss&egrave;n!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page32" id="page32"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;32]</span>
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, John, I'm sure I little thought to vind</p>
+<p>That you had ever sich a jealous mind.</p>
+<p>What then! I s'pose that I must be a dummy,</p>
+<p>An' mussen goo about nor wag my tongue</p>
+<p>To any soul, if he's a man, an' young;</p>
+<p>Or else you'll work yourzelf up mad wi' passion,</p>
+<p>An' talk away o' gi'&egrave;n vo'k a drash&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>An' break&egrave;n bwones, an' be&auml;ten heads to pummy!</p>
+<p>If you've a-got sich jealous ways about ye,</p>
+<p>I'm sure I should be better off 'ithout ye.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, if girt Jemmy have a-won your heart,</p>
+<p>We'd better break the coortship off, an' pe&auml;rt.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He won my heart! There, John, don't talk sich stuff;</p>
+<p>Don't talk noo mwore, vor you've a-zaid enough.</p>
+<p>If I'd a-lik'd another mwore than you,</p>
+<p>I'm sure I shoulden come to meet ye zoo;</p>
+<p>Vor I've a-twold to father many a storry,</p>
+<p>An' took o' mother many a scwold&egrave;n vor ye.</p>
+    <p class="i12">[<i>weeping.</i>]</p>
+<p>But 'twull be over now, vor you shan't zee me</p>
+<p>Out wi' ye noo mwore, to pick a quarrel wi' me.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, Fanny, I woon't zay noo mwore, my dear.</p>
+<p>Let's me&auml;ke it up. Come, wipe off thik there tear.</p>
+<p>Let's goo an' zit o' top o' the&auml;se here stile,</p>
+<p>An' rest, an' look about a little while.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now goo away, you crabbed jealous chap!</p>
+<p>You shan't kiss me,&mdash;you shan't! I'll gi' ye a slap.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page33" id="page33"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;33]</span>
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then you look smil&egrave;n; don't you pout an' toss</p>
+<p>Your head so much, an' look so very cross.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now, John! don't squeeze me roun' the middle zoo.</p>
+<p>I woon't stop here noo longer, if you do.</p>
+<p>Why, John! be quiet, wull ye? Fie upon it!</p>
+<p>Now zee how you've a-wrumpl'd up my bonnet!</p>
+<p>Mother'ill zee it after I'm at hwome,</p>
+<p>An' gi'e a guess directly how it come.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then don't you zay that I be jealous, Fanny.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I wull: vor you <i>be</i> jealous, Mister Jahnny.</p>
+<p>There's zomebody a-com&egrave;n down the groun'</p>
+<p>Towards the stile. Who is it? Come, get down</p>
+<p>I must run hwome, upon my word then, now;</p>
+<p>If I do sta&yuml;, they'll kick up sich a row.</p>
+<p>Good night. I can't sta&yuml; now.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i6">Then good night, Fanny!</p>
+<p>Come out a-bit to-morrow even&egrave;n, can ye?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+<br /><br />
+
+<a name="page34" id="page34"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;34]</span>
+
+<h3>SUMMER.</h3>
+
+  <div class="figcenter"><img src="images/rule0-100.png" width="100" height="17" alt="rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+
+<h4>EVEN&Egrave;N, AN' MAIDENS OUT AT DOOR.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now the she&auml;des o' the elems do stratch mwore an' mwore,</p>
+<p>Vrom the low-zink&egrave;n zun in the west o' the sky;</p>
+<p>An' the ma&iuml;dens do stand out in clusters avore</p>
+<p>The doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' their cwombs be a-zet in their bunches o' he&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>An' their currels do hang roun' their necks lily-white,</p>
+<p>An' their che&auml;ks they be rwosy, their shoulders be be&auml;re,</p>
+<p>Their looks they be merry, their limbs they be light.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' the times have a-been&mdash;but they cant be noo mwore&mdash;</p>
+<p>When I had my ja&yuml; under even&egrave;n's dim sky,</p>
+<p>When my Fanny did stan' out wi' others avore</p>
+<p>Her door, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' up there, in the green, is her own honey-zuck,</p>
+<p>That her brother tra&iuml;n'd up roun' her window; an' there</p>
+<p>Is the rwose an' the jessamy, where she did pluck</p>
+<p>A flow'r vor her bosom or bud vor her he&auml;ir.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo smile, happy ma&iuml;dens! vor every fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>As the zummers do come, an' the years do roll by,</p>
+<p>Will soon sadden, or goo vur away vrom the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Or else, lik' my Fanny, will wither an' die.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page35" id="page35"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;35]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But when you be a-lost vrom the parish, zome mwore</p>
+<p>Will come on in your ple&auml;zen to bloom an' to die;</p>
+<p>An' the zummer will always have ma&iuml;dens avore</p>
+<p>Their doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor daughters ha' morn&egrave;n when mothers ha' night,</p>
+<p>An' there's beauty alive when the fe&auml;irest is dead;</p>
+<p>As when woone sparkl&egrave;n we&auml;ve do zink down vrom the light,</p>
+<p>Another do come up an' catch it instead.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo smile on, happy ma&iuml;dens! but I shall noo mwore</p>
+<p>Zee the ma&iuml;d I do miss under even&egrave;n's dim sky;</p>
+<p>An' my heart is a-touch'd to zee you out avore</p>
+<p>The doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p35" id="p35"></a>
+
+<h4>THE SHEPHERD O' THE FARM.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Oh! I be shepherd o' the farm,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' tinkl&egrave;n bells an' sheep-dog's bark,</p>
+  <p>An' wi' my crook a-thirt my e&auml;rm,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Here I do rove below the lark.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' I do bide all day among</p>
+    <p class="i2">The ble&auml;ten sheep, an' pitch their vwold;</p>
+  <p>An' when the even&egrave;n she&auml;des be long,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do zee em all a-penn'd an' twold.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' I do zee the frisk&egrave;n lam's,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' swing&egrave;n ta&iuml;ls an' woolly lags,</p>
+  <p>A-play&egrave;n roun' their veed&egrave;n dams</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' pull&egrave;n o' their milky bags.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' I bezide a hawthorn tree,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do' zit upon the zunny down,</p>
+  <p>While she&auml;des o' zummer clouds do vlee</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' silent flight along the groun'.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page36" id="page36"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;36]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' there, among the many cries</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' sheep an' lambs, my dog do pass</p>
+  <p>A zultry hour, wi' blink&egrave;n eyes,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' nose a-stratch'd upon the grass;</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>But, in a twinkl&egrave;n, at my word,</p>
+    <p class="i2">He's all awake, an' up, an' gone</p>
+  <p>Out roun' the sheep lik' any bird,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To do what he's a-zent upon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' I do goo to wash&egrave;n pool,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-sous&egrave;n over head an' ears,</p>
+  <p>The shaggy sheep, to cle&auml;n their wool</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' me&auml;ke em ready vor the she&auml;rs.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when the shear&egrave;n time do come,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Then we do work vrom dawn till dark;</p>
+  <p>Where zome do shear the sheep, and zome</p>
+ <div class="stanza">   <p class="i2">Do mark their zides wi' me&auml;sters mark.</p></div>
+
+  <p>An' when the shear&egrave;n's all a-done,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Then we do eat, an' drink, an' zing,</p>
+  <p>In me&auml;ster's kitchen till the tun</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' merry sounds do she&auml;ke an' ring.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Oh! I be shepherd o' the farm,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' tinkl&egrave;n bells an' sheep dog's bark,</p>
+  <p>An' wi' my crook a-thirt my e&auml;rm,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Here I do rove below the lark.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p36" id="p36"></a>
+
+<h4>VIELDS IN THE LIGHT.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Woone's heart mid le&auml;p wi' thoughts o' ja&yuml;</p>
+<p>In com&egrave;n manhood light an' ga&yuml;</p>
+<p>When we do te&auml;ke the worold on</p>
+<p>Vrom our vore-elders dead an' gone;</p><a name="page37" id="page37"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;37]</span>
+<p>But days so fe&auml;ir in hope's bright eyes</p>
+<p>Do often come wi' zunless skies:</p>
+<p>Woone's fancy can but be out-done,</p>
+<p>Where trees do swa&yuml; an' brooks do run,</p>
+<p>By ris&egrave;n moon or zett&egrave;n zun.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor when at even&egrave;n I do look</p>
+<p>All down the&auml;se hang&egrave;n on the brook,</p>
+<p>Wi' we&auml;ves a-le&auml;p&egrave;n clear an' bright,</p>
+<p>Where boughs do swa&yuml; in yollow light;</p>
+<p>Noo hills nor hollows, woods nor streams,</p>
+<p>A-voun' by da&yuml; or zeed in dreams,</p>
+<p>Can ever seem so fit to be</p>
+<p>Good angel's hwomes, though they do gi'e</p>
+<p>But pa&iuml;n an' tweil to such as we.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when by moonlight darksome she&auml;des</p>
+<p>Do lie in grass wi' dewy ble&auml;des,</p>
+<p>An' worold-hush&egrave;n night do keep</p>
+<p>The proud an' angry vast asleep,</p>
+<p>When I can think, as I do rove,</p>
+<p>Ov only souls that I do love;</p>
+<p>Then who can dream a dream to show,</p>
+<p>Or who can think o' moons to drow,</p>
+<p>A sweeter light to rove below?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p37" id="p37"></a>
+
+<h4>WHITSUNTIDE AN' CLUB WALKEN.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ees, last Whit-Monday, I an' Me&auml;ry</p>
+<p>Got up betimes to mind the de&auml;iry;</p>
+<p>An' gi'ed the milk&egrave;n pa&iuml;ls a scrub,</p>
+<p>An' dress'd, an' went to zee the club.</p>
+<p>Vor up at public-house, by ten</p>
+<p>O'clock the ple&auml;ce wer vull o' men,</p>
+<p>A-dress'd to goo to church, an' dine,</p>
+<p>An' walk about the ple&auml;ce in line.</p><a name="page38" id="page38"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;38]</span>
+<p>Zoo off they started, two an' two,</p>
+<p>Wi' pa&iuml;nted poles an' knots o' blue,</p>
+<p>An' girt silk flags,&mdash;I wish my box</p>
+<p>'D a-got em all in ce&auml;pes an' frocks,&mdash;</p>
+<p>A-we&auml;v&egrave;n wide an' flapp&egrave;n loud</p>
+<p>In pla&yuml;some winds above the crowd;</p>
+<p>While fifes did squeak an' drums did rumble,</p>
+<p>An' deep be&auml;zzoons did grunt an' grumble,</p>
+<p>An' all the vo'k in gath'r&egrave;n crowds</p>
+<p>Kick'd up the doust in smeechy clouds,</p>
+<p>That slowly rose an' spread abrode</p>
+<p>In stream&egrave;n a&iuml;r above the road.</p>
+<p>An' then at church there wer sich lots</p>
+<p>O' hats a-hang&egrave;n up wi' knots,</p>
+<p>An' poles a-stood so thick as iver,</p>
+<p>The rushes stood beside a river.</p>
+<p>An' Mr Goodman gi'ed em warn&egrave;n</p>
+<p>To spend their even&egrave;n lik' their morn&egrave;n;</p>
+<p>An' not to pra&yuml; wi' morn&egrave;n tongues,</p>
+<p>An' then to zwear wi' even&egrave;n lungs:</p>
+<p>Nor vu'st she&auml;ke hands, to let the wrist</p>
+<p>Lift up at last a bruis&egrave;n vist:</p>
+<p>Vor clubs were all a-me&auml;n'd vor friends,</p>
+<p>He twold em, an' vor better ends</p>
+<p>Than twit&egrave;n vo'k an' pick&egrave;n quarrels,</p>
+<p>An' tippl&egrave;n cups an' empt&egrave;n barrels,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Vor me&auml;k&egrave;n woone man do another</p>
+<p>In need the kindness ov a brother.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' after church they went to dine</p>
+<p>'Ithin the long-wall'd room behine</p>
+<p>The public-house, where you remember,</p>
+<p>We had our dance back last December.</p>
+<p>An' there they me&auml;de sich stunn&egrave;n clatters</p>
+<p>Wi' knives an' forks, an' ple&auml;tes an' platters;</p><a name="page39" id="page39"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;39]</span>
+<p>An' wa&iuml;ters ran, an' beer did pass</p>
+<p>Vrom tap to jug, vrom jug to glass:</p>
+<p>An' when they took away the dishes,</p>
+<p>They drink'd good healths, an' wish'd good wishes,</p>
+<p>To all the girt vo'k o' the land,</p>
+<p>An' all good things vo'k took in hand;</p>
+<p>An' woone cried <i>hip, hip, hip!</i> an' hollow'd,</p>
+<p>An' tothers all struck in, an' vollow'd;</p>
+<p>An' grabb'd their drink wi' eager clutches,</p>
+<p>An' swigg'd it wi' sich hearty glutches,</p>
+<p>As vo'k, stark mad wi' pweison stuff,</p>
+<p>That thought theirzelves not mad enough.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' after that they went all out</p>
+<p>In rank age&auml;n, an' walk'd about,</p>
+<p>An' gi'ed zome parish vo'k a call;</p>
+<p>An', then went down to Narley Hall</p>
+<p>An' had zome beer, an' danc'd between</p>
+<p>The elem trees upon the green.</p>
+<p>An' down along the road they done</p>
+<p>All sorts o' mad-cap things vor fun;</p>
+<p>An' danc'd, a-pok&egrave;n out their poles,</p>
+<p>An' push&egrave;n bwoys down into holes:</p>
+<p>An' Sammy Stubbs come out o' rank,</p>
+<p>An' kiss'd me up age&auml;n the bank,</p>
+<p>A saucy chap; I ha'nt vor'gied en</p>
+<p>Not yet,&mdash;in short, I han't a-zeed en.</p>
+<p>Zoo in the dusk ov even&egrave;n, zome</p>
+<p>Went back to drink, an' zome went hwome.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p39" id="p39"></a>
+
+<h4>WOODLEY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Sweet Woodley! oh! how fresh an' ga&yuml;</p>
+<p>Thy le&auml;nes an' vields be now in Ma&yuml;,</p>
+<p>The while the broad-leav'd clotes do zwim</p>
+<p>In brooks wi' gil'cups at the brim;</p><a name="page40" id="page40"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;40]</span>
+<p>An' yollow cowslip-beds do grow</p>
+<p>By thorns in blooth so white as snow;</p>
+<p>An' win' do come vrom copse wi' smells</p>
+<p>O' gr&aelig;gles wi' their hang&egrave;n bells!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Though time do dreve me on, my mind</p>
+<p>Do turn in love to thee behind,</p>
+<p>The se&auml;me's a bulrush that's a-shook</p>
+<p>By wind a-blow&egrave;n up the brook:</p>
+<p>The curl&egrave;n stream would dreve en down,</p>
+<p>But pla&yuml;some a&iuml;r do turn en roun',</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;ke en seem to bend wi' love</p>
+<p>To zunny hollows up above.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Thy tower still do overlook</p>
+<p>The woody knaps an' wind&egrave;n brook,</p>
+<p>An' le&auml;ne's wi' here an' there a hatch,</p>
+<p>An' house wi' elem-she&auml;ded thatch,</p>
+<p>An' vields where chaps do vur outdo</p>
+<p>The Zunday sky, wi' cwoats o' blue;</p>
+<p>An' ma&iuml;dens' frocks do vur surpass</p>
+<p>The whitest de&auml;sies in the grass.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>What peals to-day from thy wold tow'r</p>
+<p>Do strike upon the zummer flow'r,</p>
+<p>As all the club, wi' dousty lags,</p>
+<p>Do walk wi' poles an' flapp&egrave;n flags,</p>
+<p>An' wind, to music, roun' between</p>
+<p>A zwarm o' vo'k upon the green!</p>
+<p>Though time do dreve me on, my mind</p>
+<p>Do turn wi' love to thee behind.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page41" id="page41"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;41]</span>
+
+
+
+<h4>THE BROOK THAT RAN BY GRAMFER'S.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When snow-white clouds wer thin an' vew</p>
+  <p>Avore the zummer sky o' blue,</p>
+  <p>An' I'd noo ho but how to vind</p>
+  <p>Zome pla&yuml; to enterta&iuml;n my mind;</p>
+  <p>Along the water, as did wind</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' zedgy shoal an' hollow crook,</p>
+    <p class="i2">How I did ramble by the brook</p>
+    <p class="i2">That ran all down vrom gramfer's.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>A-hold&egrave;n out my line beyond</p>
+  <p>The clote-leaves, wi' my withy wand,</p>
+  <p>How I did watch, wi' eager look,</p>
+  <p>My zwimm&egrave;n cork, a-zunk or shook</p>
+  <p>By minnows nibbl&egrave;n at my hook,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-think&egrave;n I should catch a bre&auml;ce</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' perch, or at the le&auml;st some de&auml;ce,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-zwimm&egrave;n down vrom gramfer's.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Then ten good de&auml;ries wer a-ved</p>
+  <p>Along that water's wind&egrave;n bed,</p>
+  <p>An' in the lewth o' hills an' wood</p>
+  <p>A half a score farm-housen stood:</p>
+  <p>But now,&mdash;count all o'm how you would,</p>
+    <p class="i2">So many less do hold the land,&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">You'd vind but vive that still do stand,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-com&egrave;n down vrom gramfer's.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>There, in the midst ov all his land,</p>
+  <p>The squier's ten-tunn'd house did stand,</p>
+  <p>Where he did me&auml;ke the water clim'</p>
+  <p>A bank, an' sparkle under dim</p>
+  <p>Bridge arches, vill&egrave;n to the brim</p>
+    <p class="i2">His pon', an' le&auml;p&egrave;n, white as snow,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vrom rocks a-glitt'r&egrave;n in a bow,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' runn&egrave;n down to gramfer's.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page42" id="page42"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;42]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' now woone wing is all you'd vind</p>
+  <p>O' thik girt house a-left behind;</p>
+  <p>An' only woone wold stwonen tun</p>
+  <p>'S a-stann&egrave;n to the ra&iuml;n an' zun,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>An' all's undone that he'd a-done;</p>
+    <p class="i2">The brook ha' now noo call to sta&yuml;</p>
+    <p class="i2">To vill his pon' or clim' his ba&yuml;,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-runn&egrave;n down to gramfer's.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When woonce, in heavy ra&iuml;n, the road</p>
+  <p>At Grenley bridge wer overflow'd,</p>
+  <p>Poor Sophy White, the ple&auml;ces pride,</p>
+  <p>A-gwa&iuml;n vrom market, went to ride</p>
+  <p>Her pony droo to tother zide;</p>
+    <p class="i2">But vound the str&euml;am so deep an' strong,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That took her off the road along</p>
+    <p class="i2">The hollow down to gramfer's.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>'Twer dark, an' she went on too vast</p>
+  <p>To catch hold any thing she pass'd;</p>
+  <p>Noo bough hung over to her hand,</p>
+  <p>An' she could reach noo stwone nor land,</p>
+  <p>Where woonce her little voot could stand;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Noo ears wer out to hear her cries,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Nor wer she woonce a-zeen by eyes,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Till took up dead at gramfer's.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p42" id="p42"></a>
+
+<h4>SLEEP DID COME WI' THE DEW.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>O when our zun's a-zink&egrave;n low,</p>
+  <p>How soft's the light his fe&auml;ce do drow</p>
+  <p>Upon the backward road our mind</p>
+  <p>Do turn an' zee a-left behind;</p>
+  <p>When we, in childhood's days did vind</p>
+  <p>Our ja&yuml; among the gil'cup flow'rs,</p>
+  <p>All drough the zummer's zunny hours;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' sleep did come wi' the dew.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page43" id="page43"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;43]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' afterwards, when we did zweat</p>
+  <p>A tweil&egrave;n in the zummer het,</p>
+  <p>An' when our daily work wer done</p>
+  <p>Did meet to have our even&egrave;n fun:</p>
+  <p>Till up above the zett&egrave;n zun</p>
+  <p>The sky wer blush&egrave;n in the west,</p>
+  <p>An' we laid down in peace to rest,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' sleep did come wi' the dew.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ah! zome do turn&mdash;but tidden right&mdash;</p>
+  <p>The night to day, an' day to night;</p>
+  <p>But we do zee the vu'st red streak</p>
+  <p>O' morn&egrave;n, when the day do break;</p>
+  <p>Zoo we don't grow up pe&auml;le an' weak,</p>
+  <p>But we do work wi' health an' strength,</p>
+  <p>Vrom morn&egrave;n drough the whole day's length,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' sleep do come wi' the dew.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when, at last, our e'thly light</p>
+  <p>Is jist a-draw&egrave;n in to night,</p>
+  <p>We mid be sure that God above,</p>
+  <p>If we be true when he do prove</p>
+  <p>Our stedvast fa&iuml;th an' thankvul love,</p>
+  <p>Wull do vor us what mid be best,</p>
+  <p>An' te&auml;ke us into endless rest,</p>
+    <p class="i2">As sleep do come wi' the dew.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p43" id="p43"></a>
+
+<h4>SWEET MUSIC IN THE WIND.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When even&egrave;n is a-draw&egrave;n in,</p>
+  <p>I'll steal vrom others' na&iuml;sy din;</p>
+  <p>An' where the whirl&egrave;n brook do roll</p>
+  <p>Below the walnut-tree, I'll stroll</p>
+  <p>An' think o' thee wi' all my soul,</p>
+  <p>Dear Jenny; while the sound o' bells</p>
+  <p>Do vlee along wi' mwoansome zwells,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Sweet music in the wind!</p></div>
+
+<a name="page44" id="page44"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;44]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>I'll think how in the rushy le&auml;ze</p>
+  <p>O' zunny even&egrave;ns jis' lik' the&auml;se,</p>
+  <p>In happy times I us'd to zee</p>
+  <p>Thy comely she&auml;pe about the tree,</p>
+  <p>Wi' pa&iuml;l a-held avore thy knee;</p>
+  <p>An' lissen'd to thy merry zong</p>
+  <p>That at a distance come along,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Sweet music in the wind!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when wi' me you walk'd about</p>
+  <p>O' Zundays, after church wer out.</p>
+  <p>Wi' hang&egrave;n e&auml;rm an' modest look;</p>
+  <p>Or zitt&egrave;n in some woody nook</p>
+  <p>We lissen'd to the leaves that shook</p>
+  <p>Upon the poplars stra&iuml;ght an' tall,</p>
+  <p>Or rottle o' the watervall,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Sweet music in the wind!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when the pla&yuml;vul a&iuml;r do vlee,</p>
+  <p>O' moonlight nights, vrom tree to tree,</p>
+  <p>Or whirl upon the she&auml;k&egrave;n grass,</p>
+  <p>Or rottle at my window glass:</p>
+  <p>Do seem,&mdash;as I do hear it pass,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>As if thy va&iuml;ce did come to tell</p>
+  <p>Me where thy happy soul do dwell,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Sweet music in the wind!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p44" id="p44"></a>
+
+<h4>UNCLE AN' AUNT.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>How happy uncle us'd to be</p>
+  <p>O' zummer time, when aunt an' he</p>
+  <p>O' Zunday even&egrave;ns, e&auml;rm in e&auml;rm,</p>
+  <p>Did walk about their tiny farm,</p>
+  <p>While birds did zing an' gnats did zwarm,</p>
+  <p>Drough grass a'most above their knees,</p>
+  <p>An' roun' by hedges an' by trees</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' leafy boughs a-swa&yuml;&egrave;n.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page45" id="page45"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;45]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>His hat wer broad, his cwoat wer brown,</p>
+  <p>Wi' two long flaps a-hang&egrave;n down;</p>
+  <p>An' vrom his knee went down a blue</p>
+  <p>Knit stock&egrave;n to his buckled shoe;</p>
+  <p>An' aunt did pull her gown-ta&iuml;l drough</p>
+  <p>Her pocket-hole, to keep en neat,</p>
+  <p>As she mid walk, or te&auml;ke a seat</p>
+    <p class="i2">By leafy boughs a-zwa&yuml;&egrave;n.</p></div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' vu'st they'd goo to zee their lots</p>
+  <p>O' pot-e&auml;rbs in the ge&auml;rden plots;</p>
+  <p>An' he, i'-may-be, by the hatch,</p>
+  <p>Would zee aunt's vowls upon a patch</p>
+  <p>O' zeeds, an' vow if he could catch</p>
+  <p>Em wi' his gun, they shoudden vlee</p>
+  <p>Noo mwore into their roost&egrave;n tree,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' leafy boughs a-swa&yuml;&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' then vrom ge&auml;rden they did pass</p>
+  <p>Drough orcha'd out to zee the grass,</p>
+  <p>An' if the apple-blooth, so white,</p>
+  <p>Mid be at all a-touch'd wi' blight;</p>
+  <p>An' uncle, happy at the zight,</p>
+  <p>Did guess what cider there mid be</p>
+  <p>In all the orcha'd, tree wi' tree,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' tutties all a-swa&yuml;&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' then they stump'd along vrom there</p>
+  <p>A-vield, to zee the cows an' me&auml;re;</p>
+  <p>An' she, when uncle come in zight,</p>
+  <p>Look'd up, an' prick'd her ears upright,</p>
+  <p>An' whicker'd out wi' all her might;</p>
+  <p>An' he, a-chuckl&egrave;n, went to zee</p>
+  <p>The cows below the she&auml;dy tree,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' leafy boughs a-swa&yuml;en.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' last ov all, they went to know</p>
+  <p>How vast the grass in me&auml;d did grow</p><a name="page46" id="page46"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;46]</span>
+  <p>An' then aunt zaid 'twer time to goo</p>
+  <p>In hwome,&mdash;a-hold&egrave;n up her shoe,</p>
+  <p>To show how wet he wer wi' dew.</p>
+  <p>An' zoo they toddled hwome to rest,</p>
+  <p>Lik' doves a-vle&egrave;n to their nest</p>
+    <p class="i2">In leafy boughs a-swa&yuml;en.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p46" id="p46"></a>
+
+<h4>HAVEN WOONES FORTUNE A-TWOLD.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>In le&auml;ne the gipsies, as we went</p>
+  <p>A-milk&egrave;n, had a-pitch'd their tent,</p>
+  <p>Between the gravel-pit an' clump</p>
+  <p>O' trees, upon the little hump:</p>
+  <p>An' while upon the grassy groun'</p>
+    <p class="i2">Their smok&egrave;n vire did crack an' ble&auml;ze,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Their shaggy-cwoated hoss did gre&auml;ze</p>
+  <p>Among the bushes vurder down.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' zoo, when we brought back our pa&iuml;ls,</p>
+  <p>The woman met us at the ra&iuml;ls,</p>
+  <p>An' zaid she'd tell us, if we'd show</p>
+  <p>Our han's, what we should like to know.</p>
+  <p>Zoo Poll zaid she'd a mind to try</p>
+    <p class="i2">Her skill a bit, if I would vu'st;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Though, to be sure, she didden trust</p>
+  <p>To gipsies any mwore than I.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Well; I agreed, an' off all dree</p>
+  <p>O's went behind an elem tree,</p>
+  <p>An' after she'd a-zeed 'ithin</p>
+  <p>My han' the wrinkles o' the skin,</p>
+  <p>She twold me&mdash;an' she must a-know'd</p>
+    <p class="i2">That Dicky met me in the le&auml;ne,&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">That I'd a-walk'd, an' should age&auml;n,</p>
+  <p>Wi' zomebody along thik road.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page47" id="page47"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;47]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' then she twold me to bewar</p>
+  <p>O' what the letter <i>M</i> stood vor.</p>
+  <p>An' as I walk'd, o' <i>M</i>onday night,</p>
+  <p>Drough <i>M</i>e&auml;d wi' Dicky overright</p>
+  <p>The <i>M</i>ill, the <i>M</i>iller, at the stile,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Did stan' an' watch us te&auml;ke our stroll,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' then, a blabb&egrave;n dousty-poll!</p>
+  <p>Twold <i>M</i>other o't. Well wo'th his while!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' Poll too wer a-bid bewar</p>
+  <p>O' what the letter <i>F</i> stood vor;</p>
+  <p>An' then, because she took, at <i>F</i>e&auml;ir,</p>
+  <p>A bosom-pin o' Jimmy He&auml;re,</p>
+  <p>Young <i>F</i>ranky be&auml;t en black an' blue.</p>
+    <p class="i2">'Tis <i>F</i> vor <i>F</i>e&auml;ir; an' 'twer about</p>
+    <p class="i2">A <i>F</i>ear&egrave;n <i>F</i>rank an' Jimmy fo&uuml;ght,</p>
+  <p>Zoo I do think she twold us true.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>In short, she twold us all about</p>
+  <p>What had a-vell, or would vall out;</p>
+  <p>An' whether we should spend our lives</p>
+  <p>As ma&iuml;dens, or as wedded wives;</p>
+  <p>But when we went to bundle on,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The gipsies' dog were at the ra&iuml;ls</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-lapp&egrave;n milk vrom ouer pa&iuml;ls,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>A pretty de&auml;l o' Poll's wer gone.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p47" id="p47"></a>
+
+<h4>JEANE'S WEDDEN DAY IN MORNEN.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>At last Je&auml;ne come down stairs, a-drest</p>
+<p>Wi' wedd&egrave;n knots upon her breast,</p>
+<p>A-blush&egrave;n, while a tear did lie</p>
+<p>Upon her burn&egrave;n che&auml;k half dry;</p>
+<p>An' then her Robert, draw&egrave;n nigh</p>
+<p>Wi' tothers, took her han' wi' pride,</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke her at the church his bride,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Her wedd&egrave;n day in morn&egrave;n.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page48" id="page48"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;48]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Wi' litty voot an' be&auml;t&egrave;n heart</p>
+<p>She stepp'd up in the new light cart,</p>
+<p>An' took her bridema&iuml;d up to ride</p>
+<p>Along wi' Robert at her zide:</p>
+<p>An' uncle's me&auml;re look'd roun' wi' pride</p>
+<p>To zee that, if the cart wer vull,</p>
+<p>'Twer Jenny that he had to pull,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Her wedd&egrave;n day in morn&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' aunt an' uncle stood stock-still,</p>
+<p>An' watch'd em trott&egrave;n down the hill;</p>
+<p>An' when they turn'd off out o' groun'</p>
+<p>Down into le&auml;ne, two tears run down</p>
+<p>Aunt's fe&auml;ce; an' uncle, turn&egrave;n roun',</p>
+<p>Sigh'd woonce, an' stump'd off wi' his stick,</p>
+<p>Because did touch en to the quick</p>
+  <p class="i2">To pe&auml;rt wi' Je&auml;ne thik morn&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Now Je&auml;ne's agone," Tom mutter'd, "we</p>
+<p>Shall mwope lik' owls 'ithin a tree;</p>
+<p>Vor she did zet us all agog</p>
+<p>Vor fun, avore the burn&egrave;n log."</p>
+<p>An' as he zot an' talk'd, the dog</p>
+<p>Put up his nose athirt his thighs,</p>
+<p>But coulden me&auml;ke en turn his eyes,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Je&auml;ne's wedd&egrave;n day in morn&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then the na&iuml;ghbours round us, all</p>
+<p>By woones an' twos begun to call,</p>
+<p>To meet the young vo'k, when the me&auml;re</p>
+<p>Mid bring em back a married pe&auml;ir:</p>
+<p>An' all o'm zaid, to Robert's she&auml;re,</p>
+<p>There had a-vell the fe&auml;rest fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' kindest heart in all the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Je&auml;ne's wedd&egrave;n day in morn&egrave;n.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page49" id="page49"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;49]</span>
+
+
+<h4>RIVERS DON'T GI'E OUT.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The brook I left below the rank</p>
+  <p>Ov alders that do she&auml;de his bank,</p>
+  <p>A-runn&egrave;n down to dreve the mill</p>
+  <p>Below the knap, 's a runn&egrave;n still;</p>
+  <p>The creep&egrave;n days an' weeks do vill</p>
+    <p class="i2">Up years, an' me&auml;ke wold things o' new,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' vok' do come, an' live, an' goo,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But rivers don't gi'e out, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The leaves that in the spring do shoot</p>
+  <p>Zo green, in fall be under voot;</p>
+  <p>Ma&yuml; flow'rs do grow vor June to burn,</p>
+  <p>An' milk-white blooth o' trees do kern,</p>
+  <p>An' ripen on, an' vall in turn;</p>
+    <p class="i2">The miller's moss-green wheel mid rot,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' he mid die an' be vorgot,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But rivers don't gi'e out, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>A vew short years do bring an' rear</p>
+  <p>A ma&iuml;d&mdash;as Je&auml;ne wer&mdash;young an' fe&auml;ir,</p>
+  <p>An' vewer zummer-ribbons, tied</p>
+  <p>In Zunday knots, do fe&auml;de bezide</p>
+  <p>Her che&auml;k avore her bloom ha' died:</p>
+    <p class="i2">Her youth won't sta&yuml;,&mdash;her rwosy look</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a fe&auml;d&egrave;n flow'r, but time's a brook</p>
+    <p class="i2">To run an' not gi'e out, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' yet, while things do come an' goo,</p>
+  <p>God's love is steadvast, John, an' true;</p>
+  <p>If winter vrost do chill the ground,</p>
+  <p>'Tis but to bring the zummer round,</p>
+  <p>All's well a-lost where He's a-vound,</p><a name="page50" id="page50"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;50]</span>
+    <p class="i2">Vor if 'tis right, vor Christes se&auml;ke</p>
+    <p class="i2">He'll gi'e us mwore than he do te&auml;ke,&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">His goodness don't gi'e out, John.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p50" id="p50"></a>
+
+<h4>MEAKEN UP A MIFF.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Vorgi'e me, Jenny, do! an' rise</p>
+  <p>Thy hang&egrave;n head an' teary eyes,</p>
+  <p>An' speak, vor I've a-took in lies,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' I've a-done thee wrong;</p>
+  <p>But I wer twold,&mdash;an' thought 'twer true,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>That Sammy down at Coome an' you</p>
+  <p>Wer at the fe&auml;ir, a-walk&egrave;n drough</p>
+    <p class="i2">The ple&auml;ce the whole day long.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' tender thoughts did melt my heart,</p>
+  <p>An' zwells o' viry pride did dart</p>
+  <p>Lik' lightn&egrave;n drough my blood; a-pe&auml;rt</p>
+    <p class="i2">Ov your love I should scorn,</p>
+  <p>An' zoo I vow'd, however sweet</p>
+  <p>Your looks mid be when we did meet,</p>
+  <p>I'd trample ye down under veet,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Or let ye goo forlorn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>But still thy ne&auml;me would always be</p>
+  <p>The sweetest, an' my eyes would zee</p>
+  <p>Among all ma&iuml;dens nwone lik' thee</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor ever any mwore;</p>
+  <p>Zoo by the walks that we've a-took</p>
+  <p>By flow'ry hedge an' zedgy brook,</p>
+  <p>Dear Jenny, dry your eyes, an' look</p>
+    <p class="i2">As you've a-look'd avore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Look up, an' let the even&egrave;n light</p>
+  <p>But sparkle in thy eyes so bright,</p>
+  <p>As they be open to the light</p>
+<a name="page51" id="page51"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;51]</span>
+    <p class="i2">O' zunzet in the west;</p>
+  <p>An' let's stroll here vor half an hour,</p>
+  <p>Where hang&egrave;n boughs do me&auml;ke a bow'r</p>
+  <p>Above the&auml;se bank, wi' eltrot flow'r</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' robinhoods a-drest.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p51" id="p51"></a>
+
+<h4>HAY-MEAKEN.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis merry ov a zummer's day,</p>
+<p>Where vo'k be out a-me&auml;k&egrave;n ha&yuml;;</p>
+<p>Where men an' women, in a string,</p>
+<p>Do ted or turn the grass, an' zing,</p>
+<p>Wi' cheem&egrave;n va&iuml;ces, merry zongs,</p>
+<p>A-toss&egrave;n o' their sheen&egrave;n prongs</p>
+<p>Wi' e&auml;rms a-zwang&egrave;n left an' right,</p>
+<p>In colour'd gowns an' shirtsleeves white;</p>
+<p>Or, wider spread, a re&auml;k&egrave;n round</p>
+<p>The rwosy hedges o' the ground,</p>
+<p>Where Sam do zee the speckled sne&auml;ke,</p>
+<p>An' try to kill en wi' his re&auml;ke;</p>
+<p>An' Poll do jump about an' squall,</p>
+<p>To zee the twist&egrave;n slooworm crawl.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis merry where a ga&yuml;-tongued lot</p>
+<p>Ov ha&yuml;-me&auml;kers be all a-squot,</p>
+<p>On lightly-russl&egrave;n ha&yuml;, a-spread</p>
+<p>Below an elem's lofty head,</p>
+<p>To rest their weary limbs an' munch</p>
+<p>Their bit o' dinner, or their nunch;</p>
+<p>Where teethy re&auml;kes do lie all round</p>
+<p>By picks a-stuck up into ground.</p>
+<p>An' wi' their vittles in their laps,</p>
+<p>An' in their hornen cups their draps</p>
+<p>O' cider sweet, or frothy e&auml;le,</p>
+<p>Their tongues do run wi' joke an' te&auml;le.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page52" id="page52"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;52]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the zun, so low an' red,</p>
+<p>Do sheen above the leafy head</p>
+<p>O' zome broad tree, a-riz&egrave;n high</p>
+<p>Avore the vi'ry western sky,</p>
+<p>'Tis merry where all han's do goo</p>
+<p>Athirt the groun', by two an' two,</p>
+<p>A-re&auml;k&egrave;n, over humps an' hollors,</p>
+<p>The russl&egrave;n grass up into rollers.</p>
+<p>An' woone do row it into line,</p>
+<p>An' woone do clwose it up behine;</p>
+<p>An' after them the little bwoys</p>
+<p>Do stride an' fling their e&auml;rms all woys,</p>
+<p>Wi' busy picks, an' proud young looks</p>
+<p>A-me&auml;k&egrave;n up their tiny pooks.</p>
+<p>An' zoo 'tis merry out among</p>
+<p>The vo'k in ha&yuml;-vield all day long.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p52" id="p52"></a>
+
+<h4>HAY-CARREN.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis merry ov a zummer's day,</p>
+<p>When vo'k be out a-haul&egrave;n ha&yuml;,</p>
+<p>Where boughs, a-spread upon the ground,</p>
+<p>Do me&auml;ke the staddle big an' round;</p>
+<p>An' grass do stand in pook, or lie</p>
+<p>In long-back'd we&auml;les or parsels, dry.</p>
+<p>There I do vind it stir my heart</p>
+<p>To hear the froth&egrave;n hosses snort,</p>
+<p>A-haul&egrave;n on, wi' sleek he&auml;ir'd hides,</p>
+<p>The red-wheel'd waggon's deep-blue zides.</p>
+<p>Aye; let me have woone cup o' drink,</p>
+<p>An' hear the linky harness clink,</p>
+<p>An' then my blood do run so warm,</p>
+<p>An' put sich strangth 'ithin my e&auml;rm,</p>
+<p>That I do long to toss a pick,</p>
+<p>A-pitch&egrave;n or a-me&auml;k&egrave;n rick.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page53" id="page53"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;53]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The bwoy is at the hosse's head,</p>
+<p>An' up upon the waggon bed</p>
+<p>The lwoaders, strong o' e&auml;rm do stan',</p>
+<p>At head, an' back at ta&iuml;l, a man,</p>
+<p>Wi' skill to build the lwoad upright</p>
+<p>An' bind the vwolded corners tight;</p>
+<p>An' at each zide &#333;'m, sprack an' strong,</p>
+<p>A pitcher wi' his long-stem'd prong,</p>
+<p>Avore the best two women now</p>
+<p>A-call'd to re&auml;ky after plough.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When I do pitchy, 'tis my pride</p>
+<p>Vor Jenny Hine to re&auml;ke my zide,</p>
+<p>An' zee her fling her re&auml;ke, an' reach</p>
+<p>So vur, an' te&auml;ke in sich a streech;</p>
+<p>An' I don't shatter ha&yuml;, an' me&auml;ke</p>
+<p>Mwore work than needs vor Jenny's re&auml;ke.</p>
+<p>I'd sooner zee the we&auml;les' high rows</p>
+<p>Lik' hedges up above my nose,</p>
+<p>Than have light work myzelf, an' vind</p>
+<p>Poor Je&auml;ne a-be&auml;t an' left behind;</p>
+<p>Vor she would sooner drop down dead.</p>
+<p>Than let the pitchers get a-head.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis merry at the rick to zee</p>
+<p>How picks do wag, an' ha&yuml; do vlee.</p>
+<p>While woone's unlwoad&egrave;n, woone do te&auml;ke</p>
+<p>The pitches in; an' zome do me&auml;ke</p>
+<p>The lofty rick upright an' roun',</p>
+<p>An' tread en hard, an' re&auml;ke en down,</p>
+<p>An' tip en, when the zun do zet,</p>
+<p>To shoot a sudden vall o' wet.</p>
+<p>An' zoo 'tis merry any day</p>
+<p>Where vo'k be out a-carr&egrave;n hay.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/wavy_rule2-120.png" width="120" height="7" alt="wavy rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+
+<a name="page54" id="page54"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;54]</span>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2>
+
+<h3>THE BEST MAN IN THE VIELD.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>Sam and Bob.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h5>SAM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>That's slowish work, Bob. What'st a-been about?</p>
+<p>Thy pook&egrave;n don't goo on not over sprack.</p>
+<p>Why I've a-pook'd my we&auml;le, lo'k zee, clear out,</p>
+<p>An' here I be age&auml;n a-turn&egrave;n back.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>BOB.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I'll work wi' thee then, Sammy, any day,</p>
+<p>At any work dost like to te&auml;ke me at,</p>
+<p>Vor any money thou dost like to lay.</p>
+<p>Now, Mister Sammy, what dost think o' that?</p>
+<p>My we&auml;le is nearly twice so big as thine,</p>
+<p>Or else, I warnt, I shouldden be behin'.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SAM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! hang thee, Bob! don't tell sich whopp&egrave;n lies.</p>
+<p><i>My</i> we&auml;le's the biggest, if do come to size.</p>
+<p>'Tis jist the se&auml;me whatever bist about;</p>
+<p>Why, when dost goo a-tedd&egrave;n grass, you sloth,</p>
+<p>Another hand's a-fwo'c'd to te&auml;ke thy zwath,</p>
+<p>An' ted a half way back to help thee out;</p>
+<p>An' then a-re&auml;k&egrave;n rollers, bist so slack,</p>
+<p>Dost keep the very bwoys an' women back.</p>
+<p>An' if dost think that thou canst challenge I</p>
+<p>At any thing,&mdash;then, Bob, we'll te&auml;ke a pick a-piece,</p>
+<p>An' woonce the&auml;se zummer, goo an' try</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke a rick a-piece.</p><a name="page55" id="page55"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;55]</span>
+<p>A rick o' thine wull look a little funny,</p>
+<p>When thou'st a-done en, I'll bet any money.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>BOB.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>You noggerhead! last year thou me&auml;d'st a rick,</p>
+<p>An' then we had to trig en wi' a stick.</p>
+<p>An' what did John that tipp'd en zay? Why zaid</p>
+<p>He stood a-top o'en all the while in dread,</p>
+<p>A-think&egrave;n that avore he should a-done en</p>
+<p>He'd tumble over slap wi' him upon en.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SAM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>You yopp&egrave;n dog! I warnt I me&auml;de my rick</p>
+<p>So well's thou me&auml;d'st thy lwoad o' ha&yuml; last week.</p>
+<p>They hadden got a hundred yards to haul en,</p>
+<p>An' then they vound 'twer best to have en boun',</p>
+<p>Vor if they hadden, 'twould a-tumbl'd down;</p>
+<p>An' after that I zeed en all but vall&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>An' trigg'd en up wi' woone o'm's pitch&egrave;n pick,</p>
+<p>To zee if I could me&auml;ke en ride to rick;</p>
+<p>An' when they had the dumpy heap unboun',</p>
+<p>He vell to pieces flat upon the groun'.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>BOB.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Do shut thy ly&egrave;n chops! What dosten mind</p>
+<p>Thy pitch&egrave;n to me out in Gully-plot,</p>
+<p>A-me&auml;k&egrave;n o' me wa&iuml;t (wast zoo behind)</p>
+<p>A half an hour vor ev'ry pitch I got?</p>
+<p>An' how didst groun' thy pick? an' how didst quirk</p>
+<p>To get en up on end? Why hadst hard work</p>
+<p>To rise a pitch that wer about so big</p>
+<p>'S a goodish crow's nest, or a wold man's wig!</p>
+<p>Why bist so weak, dost know, as any roller:</p>
+<p>Zome o' the women vo'k will be&auml;t thee hollor.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<a name="page56" id="page56"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;56]</span>
+
+<h5>SAM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>You snub-nos'd flopperchops! I pitch'd so quick,</p>
+<p>That thou dost know thou hadst a hardish job</p>
+<p>To te&auml;ke in all the pitches off my pick;</p>
+<p>An' diss&egrave;n zee me groun' en, nother, Bob.</p>
+<p>An' thou bist stronger, thou dost think, than I?</p>
+<p>Girt bandy-lags! I jist should like to try.</p>
+<p>We'll goo, if thou dost like, an' jist zee which</p>
+<p>Can heave the mwost, or car the biggest nitch.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>BOB.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There, Sam, do me&auml;ke me zick to hear thy bragg&egrave;n!</p>
+<p>Why bissen strong enough to car a flagon.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SAM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>You grinn&egrave;n fool! why I'd zet thee a-blow&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>If thou wast wi' me vor a day a-mow&egrave;n.</p>
+<p>I'd wear my cwoat, an' thou midst pull thy rags off,</p>
+<p>An' then in half a zwath I'd mow thy lags off.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>BOB.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Thee mow wi' me! Why coossen keep up wi' me:</p>
+<p>Why biss&egrave;n fit to goo a-vield to skimmy,</p>
+<p>Or mow down docks an' thistles! Why I'll bet</p>
+<p>A shill&egrave;n, Samel, that thou cassen whet.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SAM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now don't thee zay much mwore than what'st a-zaid,</p>
+<p>Or else I'll knock thee down, heels over head.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>BOB.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Thou knock me down, indeed! Why cassen gi'e</p>
+<p>A blow half hard enough to kill a bee.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SAM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, thou shalt veel upon thy chops and snout.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>BOB.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come on, then, Samel; jist let's have woone bout.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page57" id="page57"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;57]</span>
+
+<h4>WHERE WE DID KEEP OUR FLAGON.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When we in morn&egrave;n had a-drow'd</p>
+  <p>The grass or russl&egrave;n ha&yuml; abrode,</p>
+  <p>The lit'some ma&iuml;dens an' the chaps,</p>
+  <p>Wi' bits o' nunch&egrave;ns in their laps,</p>
+  <p>Did all zit down upon the knaps</p>
+    <p class="i2">Up there, in under hedge, below</p>
+    <p class="i2">The highest elem o' the row,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Where we did keep our flagon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>There we could zee green vields at hand,</p>
+  <p>Avore a hunderd on beyand,</p>
+  <p>An' rows o' trees in hedges roun'</p>
+  <p>Green me&auml;ds, an' zummerle&auml;zes brown,</p>
+  <p>An' thorns upon the zunny down,</p>
+    <p class="i2">While a&iuml;er, vrom the rock&egrave;n zedge</p>
+    <p class="i2">In brook, did come along the hedge,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Where we did keep our flagon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>There laugh&egrave;n chaps did try in pla&yuml;</p>
+  <p>To bury ma&iuml;dens up in ha&yuml;,</p>
+  <p>As giggl&egrave;n ma&iuml;dens tried to roll</p>
+  <p>The chaps down into zome deep hole,</p>
+  <p>Or sting wi' nettles woone o'm's poll;</p>
+    <p class="i2">While John did hele out each his drap</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' e&auml;le or cider, in his lap</p>
+      <p class="i4">Where he did keep the flagon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Woone day there spun a whirlwind by</p>
+  <p>Where Jenny's clothes wer out to dry;</p>
+  <p>An' off vled frocks, a'most a-catch'd</p>
+  <p>By smock-frocks wi' their sleeves outstratch'd,</p>
+  <p>An' caps a-frill'd an' e&auml;perns patch'd;</p><a name="page58" id="page58"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;58]</span>
+    <p class="i2">An' she a-ste&auml;r&egrave;n in a fright,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wer glad enough to zee em light</p>
+      <p class="i4">Where we did keep our flagon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when white clover wer a-sprung</p>
+  <p>Among the eegrass, green an' young,</p>
+  <p>An' elder-flowers wer a-spread</p>
+  <p>Among the rwosen white an' red,</p>
+  <p>An' honeyzucks wi' hang&egrave;n head,&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' Zunday even&egrave;ns we did zit</p>
+    <p class="i2">To look all roun' the grounds a bit,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Where we'd a-kept our flagon.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p58" id="p58"></a>
+
+<h4>WEEK'S END IN ZUMMER, IN THE WOLD VO'K'S TIME.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>His aunt an' uncle,&mdash;ah! the kind</p>
+<p>Wold souls be often in my mind:</p>
+<p>A better couple never stood</p>
+<p>In shoes, an' vew be voun' so good.</p>
+<p><i>She</i> cheer'd the work-vo'k in the&iuml;r tweils</p>
+<p>Wi' timely bits an' draps, an' smiles;</p>
+<p>An' <i>he</i> pa&iuml;d all o'm at week's end,</p>
+<p>Their money down to goo an' spend.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In zummer, when week's end come roun'</p>
+<p>The ha&yuml;-me&auml;kers did come vrom groun',</p>
+<p>An' all zit down, wi' weary bwones,</p>
+<p>Within the yard a-pe&auml;ved wi' stwones,</p>
+<p>Along avore the pe&auml;les, between</p>
+<p>The yard a-ste&auml;n'd an' open green.</p>
+<p>There women zot wi' bare-neck'd chaps,</p>
+<p>An' ma&iuml;dens wi' their sleeves an' flaps</p>
+<p>To screen vrom het their e&auml;rms an' polls.</p>
+<p>An' men wi' beards so black as coals:</p><a name="page59" id="page59"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;59]</span>
+<p>Girt stocky Jim, an' lanky John,</p>
+<p>An' poor wold Betty dead an' gone;</p>
+<p>An' cle&auml;n-grown Tom so spry an' strong,</p>
+<p>An' Liz the best to pitch a zong,</p>
+<p>That now ha' nearly half a score</p>
+<p>O' childern zwarm&egrave;n at her door;</p>
+<p>An' whindlen Ann, that cried wi' fear</p>
+<p>To hear the thunder when 'twer near,&mdash;</p>
+<p>A zickly ma&iuml;d, so pe&auml;le's the moon,</p>
+<p>That voun' her zun goo down at noon;</p>
+<p>An' blush&egrave;n Je&auml;ne so shy an' meek,</p>
+<p>That seldom let us hear her speak,</p>
+<p>That wer a-coorted an' undone</p>
+<p>By Farmer Woodley's woldest son;</p>
+<p>An' after she'd a-been vorzook,</p>
+<p>Wer voun' a-drown'd in Longme&auml;d brook.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo, when <i>he</i>'d a-been all roun',</p>
+<p>An' pa&iuml;d em all their wages down,</p>
+<p><i>She</i> us'd to bring vor all, by te&auml;le</p>
+<p>A cup o' cider or ov e&auml;le,</p>
+<p>An' then a tutty me&auml;de o' lots</p>
+<p>O' blossoms vrom her flower-nots,</p>
+<p>To wear in bands an' button-holes</p>
+<p>At church, an' in their even&egrave;n strolls.</p>
+<p>The pea that rangled to the oves,</p>
+<p>An' columbines an' pinks an' cloves,</p>
+<p>Sweet rwosen vrom the prickly tree,</p>
+<p>An' jilliflow'rs, an' jessamy;</p>
+<p>An' short-liv'd pinies, that do shed</p>
+<p>Their leaves upon a e&auml;rly bed.</p>
+<p>She didden put in honeyzuck:</p>
+<p>She'd nwone, she za&iuml;d, that she could pluck</p>
+<p>Avore wild honeyzucks, a-vound</p>
+<p>In ev'ry hedge ov ev'ry ground.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page60" id="page60"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;60]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo ma&iuml;d an' woman, bwoy an' man,</p>
+<p>Went off, while zunzet a&iuml;r did fan</p>
+<p>Their merry zunburnt fe&auml;zen; zome</p>
+<p>Down le&auml;ne, an' zome drough parrocks hwome.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! who can tell, that ha'nt a-vound,</p>
+<p>The sweets o' week's-end com&egrave;n round!</p>
+<p>When Zadurday do bring woone's mind</p>
+<p>The day that's all our own to spend</p>
+<p>Wi' God an' wi' an e'thly friend.</p>
+<p>The worold's girt vo'k, wi' the best</p>
+<p>O' worldly goods mid be a-blest;</p>
+<p>But Zunday is the poor man's pe&auml;rt,</p>
+<p>To se&auml;ve his soul an' cheer his heart.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p60" id="p60"></a>
+
+<h4>THE MEAD A-MOW'D.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When she&auml;des do vall into ev'ry hollow,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' reach vrom trees half athirt the groun';</p>
+  <p>An' banks an' walls be a-look&egrave;n yollow,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That be a-turn'd to the zun gwa&iuml;n down;</p>
+          <p class="i8">Drough ha&yuml; in cock, O,</p>
+          <p class="i8">We all do vlock, O,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Along our road vrom the me&auml;d a-mow'd.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when the last swa&yuml;&egrave;n lwoad's a-started</p>
+    <p class="i2">Up hill so slow to the lofty rick,</p>
+  <p>Then we so weary but merry-hearted,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do shoulder each &#333;'s a re&auml;ke an' pick,</p>
+          <p class="i8">Wi' empty flagon,</p>
+          <p class="i8">Behind the waggon,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To te&auml;ke our road vrom the me&auml;d a-mow'd.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When church is out, an' we all so slowly</p>
+    <p class="i2">About the knap be a-spread&egrave;n wide,</p><a name="page61" id="page61"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;61]</span>
+  <p>How ga&yuml; the paths be where we do strolly</p>
+    <p class="i2">Along the le&auml;ne an' the hedge's zide;</p>
+          <p class="i8">But nwone's a voun', O,</p>
+          <p class="i8">Up hill or down, O,</p>
+    <p class="i2">So ga&yuml;'s the road drough the me&auml;d a-mow'd.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when the visher do come, a-drow&egrave;n</p>
+    <p class="i2">His flutt'ren line over ble&auml;dy zedge,</p>
+  <p>Drough groun's wi' red thissle-heads a-blow&egrave;n,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' watch&egrave;n o't by the water's edge;</p>
+          <p class="i8">Then he do love, O,</p>
+          <p class="i8">The best to rove, O,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Along his road drough the me&auml;d a-mow'd.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p61" id="p61"></a>
+
+<h4>THE SKY A-CLEAREN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The drev&egrave;n scud that overcast</p>
+  <p>The zummer sky is all a-past,</p>
+  <p>An' softer a&iuml;r, a-blow&egrave;n drough</p>
+  <p>The quiv'r&egrave;n boughs, do she&auml;ke the vew</p>
+  <p>Last ra&iuml;n drops off the leaves lik' dew;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' pe&auml;viers, now a-gett&egrave;n dry,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do steam below the zunny sky</p>
+      <p class="i4">That's now so vast a-cle&auml;r&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The she&auml;des that wer a-lost below</p>
+  <p>The stormy cloud, age&auml;n do show</p>
+  <p>Their mock&egrave;n she&auml;pes below the light;</p>
+  <p>An' house-walls be a-look&egrave;n white,</p>
+  <p>An' vo'k do stir woonce mwore in zight,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' busy birds upon the wing</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do whiver roun' the boughs an' zing,</p>
+      <p class="i4">To zee the sky a-clear&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Below the hill's an ash; below</p>
+  <p>The ash, white elder-flow'rs do blow:</p><a name="page62" id="page62"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;62]</span>
+  <p>Below the elder is a bed</p>
+  <p>O' robinhoods o' blush&egrave;n red;</p>
+  <p>An' there, wi' nunches all a-spread,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The ha&yuml;-me&auml;kers, wi' each a cup</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' drink, do smile to zee hold up</p>
+      <p class="i4">The ra&iuml;n, an' sky a-cle&auml;r&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>'Mid blush&egrave;n ma&iuml;dens, wi' their zong,</p>
+  <p>Still draw their white-stemm'd re&auml;kes among</p>
+  <p>The long-back'd we&auml;les an' new-me&auml;de pooks,</p>
+  <p>By brown-stemm'd trees an' cloty brooks;</p>
+  <p>But have noo call to spweil their looks</p>
+    <p class="i2">By work, that God could never me&auml;ke</p>
+    <p class="i2">Their weaker han's to underte&auml;ke,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Though skies mid be a-cle&auml;r&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>'Tis wrong vor women's han's to clips</p>
+  <p>The zull an' reap-hook, spe&auml;des an' whips;</p>
+  <p>An' men abroad, should le&auml;ve, by right,</p>
+  <p>Woone fa&iuml;thful heart at hwome to light</p>
+  <p>Their bit o' vier up at night,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' hang upon the hedge to dry</p>
+    <p class="i2">Their snow-white linen, when the sky</p>
+      <p class="i4">In winter is a-cle&auml;r&egrave;n.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p62" id="p62"></a>
+
+<h4>THE EVEN&Egrave;N STAR O' ZUMMER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When vu'st along the&auml;se road vrom mill,</p>
+  <p>I zeed ye hwome all up the hill,</p>
+  <p>The poplar tree, so stra&iuml;ght an' tall,</p>
+  <p>Did rustle by the watervall;</p>
+  <p>An' in the le&auml;ze the cows wer all</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-ly&egrave;n down to te&auml;ke their rest</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' slowly zunk tow&aacute;rd the west</p>
+      <p class="i4">The even&egrave;n star o' zummer.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page63" id="page63"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;63]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>In parrock there the ha&yuml; did lie</p>
+  <p>In we&auml;le below the elems, dry;</p>
+  <p>An' up in hwome-groun' Jim, that know'd</p>
+  <p>We all should come along thik road,</p>
+  <p>D a-tied the grass in knots that drow'd</p>
+    <p class="i2">Poor Poll, a-watch&egrave;n in the West</p>
+    <p class="i2">Woone brighter star than all the rest,&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i4">The even&egrave;n star o' zummer.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The stars that still do zet an' rise,</p>
+  <p>Did sheen in our forefather's eyes;</p>
+  <p>They glitter'd to the vu'st men's zight,</p>
+  <p>The last will have em in their night;</p>
+  <p>But who can vind em half so bright</p>
+    <p class="i2">As I thought thik pe&auml;le star above</p>
+    <p class="i2">My smil&egrave;n Je&auml;ne, my zweet vu'st love,</p>
+      <p class="i4">The even&egrave;n star o' zummer.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>How sweet's the morn&egrave;n fresh an' new,</p>
+  <p>Wi' sparkl&egrave;n brooks an' glitt'r&egrave;n dew;</p>
+  <p>How sweet's the noon wi' she&auml;des a-drow'd</p>
+  <p>Upon the groun' but le&auml;tely mow'd,</p>
+  <p>An' bloom&egrave;n flowers all abrode;</p>
+    <p class="i2">But sweeter still, as I do clim',</p>
+    <p class="i2">The&auml;se woody hill in even&egrave;n dim</p>
+      <p class="i4">'S the even&egrave;n star o' zummer.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p63" id="p63"></a>
+
+<h4>THE CLOTE.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>(Water-lily.)</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>O zummer clote! when the brook's a-glid&egrave;n</p>
+    <p class="i2">So slow an' smooth down his zedgy bed,</p>
+  <p>Upon thy broad leaves so se&auml;fe a-rid&egrave;n</p>
+    <p class="i2">The water's top wi' thy yollow head,</p>
+      <p class="i6">By alder's heads, O,</p>
+      <p class="i6">An' bulrush beds, O.</p>
+  <p>Thou then dost float, goolden zummer clote!</p></div>
+
+<a name="page64" id="page64"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;64]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The grey-bough'd withy's a-le&auml;n&egrave;n lowly</p>
+    <p class="i2">Above the water thy leaves do hide;</p>
+  <p>The bend&egrave;n bulrush, a-swa&yuml;&egrave;n slowly,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do skirt in zummer thy river's zide;</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' perch in shoals, O,</p>
+        <p class="i6">Do vill the holes, O,</p>
+  <p>Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Oh! when thy brook-drink&egrave;n flow'r's a-blow&egrave;n,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The burn&egrave;n zummer's a-zett&egrave;n in;</p>
+  <p>The time o' greenness, the time o' mow&egrave;n,</p>
+    <p class="i2">When in the ha&yuml;-vield, wi' zunburnt skin,</p>
+        <p class="i6">The vo'k do drink, O,</p>
+        <p class="i6">Upon the brink, O,</p>
+  <p>Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Wi' e&auml;rms a-spread&egrave;n, an' che&auml;ks a-blow&egrave;n,</p>
+    <p class="i2">How proud wer I when I vu'st could zwim</p>
+  <p>Athirt the ple&auml;ce where thou bist a-grow&egrave;n,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' thy long more vrom the bottom dim;</p>
+        <p class="i6">While cows, knee-high, O,</p>
+        <p class="i6">In brook, wer nigh, O,</p>
+  <p>Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ov all the brooks drough the me&auml;ds a-wind&egrave;n,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Ov all the me&auml;ds by a river's brim,</p>
+  <p>There's nwone so fe&auml;ir o' my own heart's vind&egrave;n,</p>
+    <p class="i2">As where the ma&iuml;dens do zee thee swim,</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' stan' to te&auml;ke, O,</p>
+        <p class="i6">Wi' long-stemm'd re&auml;ke, O,</p>
+  <p>Thy flow'r afloat, goolden zummer clote!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page65" id="page65"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;65]</span>
+
+<h4>I GOT TWO VIELDS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I got two vields, an' I don't ce&auml;re</p>
+<p>What squire mid have a bigger she&auml;re.</p>
+<p>My little zummer-le&auml;ze do stratch</p>
+<p>All down the hang&egrave;n, to a patch</p>
+<p>O' me&auml;d between a hedge an' rank</p>
+<p>Ov elems, an' a river bank.</p>
+<p>Where yollow clotes, in spread&egrave;n beds</p>
+<p>O' float&egrave;n leaves, do lift their heads</p>
+<p>By bend&egrave;n bulrushes an' zedge</p>
+<p>A-swa&yuml;&egrave;n at the water's edge,</p>
+<p>Below the withy that do spread</p>
+<p>Athirt the brook his grey-leav'd head.</p>
+<p>An' eltrot flowers, milky white,</p>
+<p>Do catch the slant&egrave;n even&egrave;n light;</p>
+<p>An' in the me&auml;ple boughs, along</p>
+<p>The hedge, do ring the blackbird's zong;</p>
+<p>Or in the day, a-vle&egrave;n drough</p>
+<p>The leafy trees, the whoa'se gookoo</p>
+<p>Do zing to mowers that do zet</p>
+<p>Their zives on end, an' stan' to whet.</p>
+<p>From my wold house among the trees</p>
+<p>A le&auml;ne do goo along the le&auml;ze</p>
+<p>O' yollow gravel, down between</p>
+<p>Two mossy banks vor ever green.</p>
+<p>An' trees, a-hang&egrave;n overhead,</p>
+<p>Do hide a trinkl&egrave;n gully-bed,</p>
+<p>A-cover'd by a bridge vor hoss</p>
+<p>Or man a-voot to come across.</p>
+<p>Zoo wi' my hwomestead, I don't ce&auml;re</p>
+<p>What squire mid have a bigger she&auml;re!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page66" id="page66"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;66]</span>
+
+<h4>POLLY BE-EN UPZIDES WI' TOM.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ah! yesterday, d'ye know, I voun'</p>
+  <p>Tom Dumpy's cwoat an' smock-frock, down</p>
+  <p>Below the pollard out in groun';</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' zoo I slyly stole</p>
+  <p>An' took the smock-frock up, an' tack'd</p>
+  <p>The sleeves an' collar up, an' pack'd</p>
+  <p>Zome nice sharp stwones, all fresh a-crack'd</p>
+      <p class="i4">'Ithin each pocket-hole.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' in the even&egrave;n, when he shut</p>
+  <p>Off work, an' come an' donn'd his cwoat,</p>
+  <p>Their edges gi'ed en sich a cut,</p>
+      <p class="i4">How we did stan' an' laugh!</p>
+  <p>An' when the smock-frock I'd a-zow'd</p>
+  <p>Kept back his head an' hands, he drow'd</p>
+  <p>Hizzelf about, an' te&auml;v'd, an' blow'd,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Lik' any up-tied calf.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Then in a veag away he flung</p>
+  <p>His frock, an' after me he sprung,</p>
+  <p>An' mutter'd out sich dreats, an' wrung</p>
+      <p class="i4">His vist up sich a size!</p>
+  <p>But I, a-runn&egrave;n, turn'd an' drow'd</p>
+  <p>Some doust, a-pick'd up vrom the road,</p>
+  <p>Back at en wi' the wind, that blow'd</p>
+      <p class="i4">It right into his eyes.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' he did blink, an' vow he'd catch</p>
+  <p>Me zomehow yet, an' be my match.</p>
+  <p>But I wer nearly down to hatch</p>
+      <p class="i4">Avore he got vur on;</p>
+  <p>An' up in chammer, nearly dead</p>
+  <p>Wi' runn&egrave;n, lik' a cat I vled,</p>
+  <p>An' out o' window put my head</p>
+      <p class="i4">To zee if he wer gone.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page67" id="page67"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;67]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' there he wer, a-prowl&egrave;n roun'</p>
+  <p>Upon the green; an' I look'd down</p>
+  <p>An' told en that I hoped he voun'</p>
+      <p class="i4">He mussen think to peck</p>
+  <p>Upon a body zoo, nor whip</p>
+  <p>The me&auml;re to drow me off, nor tip</p>
+  <p>Me out o' cart age&auml;n, nor slip</p>
+      <p class="i4">Cut hoss-he&auml;ir down my neck.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p67" id="p67"></a>
+
+<h4>BE'MI'STER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Sweet Be'mi'ster, that bist a-bound</p>
+<p>By green an' woody hills all round,</p>
+<p>Wi' hedges, reach&egrave;n up between</p>
+<p>A thousan' vields o' zummer green,</p>
+<p>Where elems' lofty heads do drow</p>
+<p>Their she&auml;des vor ha&yuml;-meakers below,</p>
+<p>An' wild hedge-flow'rs do charm the souls</p>
+<p>O' ma&iuml;dens in their even&egrave;n strolls.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When I o' Zunday nights wi' Je&auml;ne</p>
+<p>Do saunter drough a vield or le&auml;ne,</p>
+<p>Where elder-blossoms be a-spread</p>
+<p>Above the eltrot's milk-white head,</p>
+<p>An' flow'rs o' blackberries do blow</p>
+<p>Upon the brembles, white as snow,</p>
+<p>To be outdone avore my zight</p>
+<p>By Je&auml;n's ga&yuml; frock o' dazzl&egrave;n white;</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! then there's noth&egrave;n that's 'ithout</p>
+<p>Thy hills that I do ho about,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Noo bigger ple&auml;ce, noo ga&yuml;er town,</p>
+<p>Beyond thy sweet bells' dy&egrave;n soun',</p>
+<p>As they do ring, or strike the hour,</p>
+<p>At even&egrave;n vrom thy wold red tow'r.</p>
+<p>No: shelter still my head, an' keep</p>
+<p>My bwones when I do vall asleep.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page68" id="page68"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;68]</span>
+
+<h4>THATCHEN O' THE RICK.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As I wer out in me&auml;d last week,</p>
+<p>A-thatch&egrave;n o' my little rick,</p>
+<p>There green young ee-grass, ankle-high,</p>
+<p>Did sheen below the cloudless sky;</p>
+<p>An' over hedge in tother groun',</p>
+<p>Among the bennets dry an' brown,</p>
+<p>My dun wold me&auml;re, wi' neck a-freed</p>
+<p>Vrom Zummer work, did snort an' veed;</p>
+<p>An' in the she&auml;de o' leafy boughs,</p>
+<p>My vew wold ragged-cwoated cows</p>
+<p>Did rub their zides upon the ra&iuml;ls,</p>
+<p>Or switch em wi' their he&auml;iry ta&iuml;ls.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' as the morn&egrave;n zun rose high</p>
+<p>Above my mossy roof clwose by,</p>
+<p>The blue smoke curreled up between</p>
+<p>The lofty trees o' fe&auml;d&egrave;n green:</p>
+<p>A zight that's touch&egrave;n when do show</p>
+<p>A busy wife is down below,</p>
+<p>A-work&egrave;n hard to cheer woone's tweil</p>
+<p>Wi' her best fe&auml;re, an' better smile.</p>
+<p>Mid women still in wedlock's yoke</p>
+<p>Zend up, wi' love, their own blue smoke,</p>
+<p>An' husbands vind their bwoards a-spread</p>
+<p>By fa&iuml;thvul hands when I be dead,</p>
+<p>An' noo good men in ouer land</p>
+<p>Think lightly o' the wedd&egrave;n band.</p>
+<p>True happiness do bide alwone</p>
+<p>Wi' them that ha' their own he'th-stwone</p>
+<p>To gather wi' their childern roun',</p>
+<p>A-smil&egrave;n at the worold's frown.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page69" id="page69"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;69]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My bwoys, that brought me thatch an' spars,</p>
+<p>Wer down a-ta&iuml;t&egrave;n on the bars,</p>
+<p>Or zot a-cutt&egrave;n wi' a knife,</p>
+<p>Dry eltrot-roots to me&auml;ke a fife;</p>
+<p>Or drev&egrave;n woone another round</p>
+<p>The rick upon the grassy ground.</p>
+<p>An', as the a&iuml;er vrom the west</p>
+<p>Did fan my burn&egrave;n fe&auml;ce an' breast,</p>
+<p>An' hopp&egrave;n birds, wi' twitt'r&egrave;n beaks,</p>
+<p>Did show their sheen&egrave;n spots an' streaks,</p>
+<p>Then, wi' my heart a-vill'd wi' love</p>
+<p>An' thankvulness to God above,</p>
+<p>I didden think ov anything</p>
+<p>That I begrudg'd o' lord or king;</p>
+<p>Vor I ha' round me, vur or near,</p>
+<p>The mwost to love an' nwone to fear,</p>
+<p>An' zoo can walk in any ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' look the best man in the fe&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>What good do come to e&auml;ch&egrave;n heads,</p>
+<p>O' li&egrave;n down in silken beds?</p>
+<p>Or what's a coach, if woone do pine</p>
+<p>To zee woone's na&iuml;ghbour's twice so fine?</p>
+<p>Contentment is a constant fe&auml;st,</p>
+<p>He's richest that do want the le&auml;st.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p69" id="p69"></a>
+
+<h4>BEES A-ZWARMEN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Avore we went a-milk&egrave;n, vive</p>
+  <p>Or six o's here wer all alive</p>
+  <p>A-te&auml;k&egrave;n bees that zwarm'd vrom hive;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' we'd sich work to catch</p>
+  <p>The humm&egrave;n rogues, they led us sich</p>
+  <p>A dance all over hedge an' ditch;</p>
+  <p>An' then at last where should they pitch,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But up in uncle's thatch?</p></div>
+
+<a name="page70" id="page70"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;70]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Dick rung a sheep-bell in his han';</p>
+  <p>Liz be&auml;t a cannister, an' Nan</p>
+  <p>Did bang the little fry&egrave;n-pan</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' thick an' thump&egrave;n blows;</p>
+  <p>An' Tom went on, a-carr&egrave;n roun'</p>
+  <p>A bee-pot up upon his crown,</p>
+  <p>Wi' all his edge a-reach&egrave;n down</p>
+    <p class="i2">Avore his eyes an' nose.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' woone girt bee, wi' spitevul hum,</p>
+  <p>Stung Dicky's lip, an' me&auml;de it come</p>
+  <p>All up amost so big's a plum;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' zome, a-vle&egrave;n on,</p>
+  <p>Got all roun' Liz, an' me&auml;de her hop</p>
+  <p>An' scream, a-twirl&egrave;n lik' a top,</p>
+  <p>An' spring away right backward, flop</p>
+    <p class="i2">Down into barken pon':</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' Nan' gi'ed Tom a roguish twitch</p>
+  <p>Upon a bank, an' me&auml;de en pitch</p>
+  <p>Right down, head-voremost, into ditch,&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Tom coulden zee a wink.</p>
+  <p>An' when the zwarm wer se&auml;fe an' sound</p>
+  <p>In mother's bit o' bee-pot ground,</p>
+  <p>She me&auml;de us up a treat all round</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' sillibub to drink.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p70" id="p70"></a>
+
+<h4>READEN OV A HEAD-STWONE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>As I wer read&egrave;n ov a stwone</p>
+  <p>In Grenley church-yard all alwone,</p>
+  <p>A little ma&iuml;d ran up, wi' pride</p>
+  <p>To zee me there, an' push'd a-zide</p>
+  <p>A bunch o' bennets that did hide</p>
+    <p class="i2">A verse her father, as she za&iuml;d,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Put up above her mother's head,</p>
+      <p class="i4">To tell how much he loved her:</p></div>
+
+<a name="page71" id="page71"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;71]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The verse wer short, but very good,</p>
+  <p>I stood an' larn'd en where I stood:&mdash;</p>
+  <p>"Mid God, dear Me&auml;ry, gi'e me gre&auml;ce</p>
+  <p>To vind, lik' thee, a better ple&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p>Where I woonce mwore mid zee thy fe&auml;ce;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' bring thy childern up to know</p>
+    <p class="i2">His word, that they mid come an' show</p>
+      <p class="i4">Thy soul how much I lov'd thee."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>"Where's father, then," I zaid, "my chile?"</p>
+  <p>"Dead too," she answer'd wi' a smile;</p>
+  <p>"An' I an' brother Jim do bide</p>
+  <p>At Betty White's, o' tother zide</p>
+  <p>O' road." "Mid He, my chile," I cried,</p>
+    <p class="i2">"That's father to the fatherless,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Become thy father now, an' bless,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' keep, an' le&auml;d, an' love thee."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Though she've a-lost, I thought, so much,</p>
+  <p>Still He don't let the thoughts o't touch</p>
+  <p>Her litsome heart by day or night;</p>
+  <p>An' zoo, if we could te&auml;ke it right,</p>
+  <p>Do show He'll me&auml;ke his burdens light</p>
+    <p class="i2">To weaker souls, an' that his smile</p>
+    <p class="i2">Is sweet upon a harmless chile,</p>
+      <p class="i4">When they be dead that lov'd it.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p71" id="p71"></a>
+
+<h4>ZUMMER EVEN&Egrave;N DANCE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come out to the parrock, come out to the tree,</p>
+<p>The ma&iuml;dens an' chaps be a-wa&iuml;t&egrave;n vor thee;</p>
+<p>There's Jim wi' his fiddle to pla&yuml; us some reels,</p>
+<p>Come out along wi' us, an' fling up thy heels.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come, all the long grass is a-mow'd an' a-carr'd,</p>
+<p>An' the turf is so smooth as a bwoard an' so hard;</p><a name="page72" id="page72"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;72]</span>
+<p>There's a bank to zit down, when y'ave danced a reel drough,</p>
+<p>An' a tree over head vor to keep off the dew.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There be rwoses an' honeyzucks hang&egrave;n among</p>
+<p>The bushes, to put in thy we&auml;st; an' the zong</p>
+<p>O' the nightinge&auml;le's he&auml;rd in the hedges all roun';</p>
+<p>An' I'll get thee a glow-worm to stick in thy gown.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There's Me&auml;ry so modest, an' Jenny so smart,</p>
+<p>An' Mag that do love a good rompse to her heart;</p>
+<p>There's Joe at the mill that do zing funny zongs,</p>
+<p>An' short-lagged Dick, too, a-wagg&egrave;n his prongs.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo come to the parrock, come out to the tree,</p>
+<p>The ma&iuml;dens an' chaps be a-wa&iuml;t&egrave;n vor thee;</p>
+<p>There's Jim wi' his fiddle to pla&yuml; us some reels,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Come out along wi' us, an' fling up thy heels.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+    <div class="figcenter"><img src="images/wavy_rule2-120.png" width="120" height="7" alt="wavy rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+
+<a name="p72" id="p72"></a>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<h3>THE VEAIRIES.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>Simon an' Samel.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" /><br />
+
+<h5>SIMON.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There's what the vo'k do call a ve&auml;iry ring</p>
+<p>Out there, lo'k zee. Why, 'tis an oddish thing.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SAMEL.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! zoo do seem. I wunder how do come!</p>
+<p>What is it that do me&auml;ke it, I do wonder?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<a name="page73" id="page73"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;73]</span>
+
+<h5>SIMON.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Be hang'd if I can tell, I'm sure! But zome</p>
+<p>Do zay do come by lightn&egrave;n when do thunder;</p>
+<p>An' zome do say sich rings as th&iacute;k ring there is,</p>
+<p>Do grow in danc&egrave;n-tracks o' little ve&auml;iries,</p>
+<p>That in the nights o' zummer or o' spring</p>
+<p>Do come by moonlight, when noo other veet</p>
+<p>Do tread the dewy grass, but their's, an' meet</p>
+<p>An' dance away together in a ring.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SAMEL.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' who d'ye think do work the fiddlestick?</p>
+<p>A little ve&auml;iry too, or else wold Nick!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SIMON.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why, they do zay, that at the ve&auml;iries' ball,</p>
+<p>There's nar a fiddle that's a-he&auml;r'd at all;</p>
+<p>But they do pla&yuml; upon a little pipe</p>
+<p>A-me&auml;de o' kexes or o' straws, dead ripe,</p>
+<p>A-stuck in row (zome short an' longer zome)</p>
+<p>Wi' slime o' sna&iuml;ls, or bits o' plum-tree gum,</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;ke sich music that to hear it sound,</p>
+<p>You'd stick so still's a pollard to the ground.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SAMEL.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>What do em dance? 'Tis pla&iuml;n by the&auml;se green wheels,</p>
+<p>They don't frisk in an' out in dree-hand reels;</p>
+<p>Vor else, instead o' the&auml;se here girt round O,</p>
+<p>The'd cut us out a figure a&iuml;ght (8), d'ye know.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SIMON.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! they ha' jigs to fit their little veet.</p>
+<p>They woulden dance, you know, at their fine ball,</p>
+<p>The dree an' vow'r han' reels that we do sprawl</p>
+<p>An' kick about in, when we men do meet.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<a name="page74" id="page74"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;74]</span>
+
+<h5>SAMEL.</h5>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo have zome vo'k, in their midnight rambles,</p>
+<p>A-catch'd the ve&auml;iries, then, in the&auml;sem gambols.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SIMON.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why, yes; but they be off lik' any shot,</p>
+<p>So soon's a man's a-com&egrave;n near the spot</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SAMEL.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But in the day-time where do ve&auml;iries hide?</p>
+<p>Where be their hwomes, then? where do ve&auml;iries bide?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SIMON.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! they do get awa&yuml; down under ground,</p>
+<p>In hollow ple&auml;zen where they can't be vound.</p>
+<p>But still my gramfer, many years agoo,</p>
+<p>(He liv'd at Grenley-farm, an milk'd a de&auml;iry),</p>
+<p>If what the wolder vo'k do tell is true,</p>
+<p>Woone morn&egrave;n e&auml;rly vound a ve&auml;iry.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SAMEL.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' did he stop, then, wi' the good wold bwoy?</p>
+<p>Or did he soon contrive to slip awoy?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>SIMON.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why, when the vo'k were all asleep, a-bed,</p>
+<p>The ve&auml;iries us'd to come, as 'tis a-zaid,</p>
+<p>Avore the vire wer cwold, an' dance an hour</p>
+<p>Or two at dead o' night upon the vloor;</p>
+<p>Var they, by only utter&egrave;n a word</p>
+<p>Or charm, can come down chimney lik' a bird;</p>
+<p>Or draw their bodies out so long an' narrow,</p>
+<p>That they can vlee drough keyholes lik' an arrow.</p>
+<p>An' zoo woone midnight, when the moon did drow</p>
+<p>His light drough window, roun' the vloor below,</p>
+<p>An' crickets roun' the bricken he'th did zing,</p>
+<p>They come an' danced about the hall in ring;</p>
+<a name="page75" id="page75"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;75]</span>
+<p>An' tapp'd, drough little holes noo eyes could spy,</p>
+<p>A kag o' poor aunt's me&auml;d a-stann&egrave;n by.</p>
+<p>An' woone o'm drink'd so much, he coulden mind</p>
+<p>The word he wer to zay to me&auml;ke en small;</p>
+<p>He got a-dather'd zoo, that after all</p>
+<p>Out tothers went an' left en back behind.</p>
+<p>An' after he'd a-be&auml;t about his head,</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n the keyhole till he wer half dead,</p>
+<p>He laid down all along upon the vloor</p>
+<p>Till gramfer, comen down, unlocked the door:</p>
+<p>An' then he zeed en ('twer enough to frighten &egrave;n)</p>
+<p>Bolt out o' door, an' down the road lik' lighten&egrave;n.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<br /><br />
+
+<a name="page76" id="page76"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;76]</span>
+
+<h3>FALL.</h3>
+
+  <div class="figcenter"><img src="images/rule0-100.png" width="100" height="17" alt="rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+
+<h4>CORN A-TURNEN YOLLOW</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The windless copse ha' she&auml;dy boughs,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' blackbirds' even&egrave;n whistles;</p>
+  <p>The hills ha' sheep upon their brows,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The zummerle&auml;ze ha' thistles:</p>
+  <p>The me&auml;ds be ga&yuml; in grassy Ma&yuml;,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But, oh! vrom hill to hollow,</p>
+  <p>Let me look down upon a groun'</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' corn a-turn&egrave;n yollow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' pease do grow in tangled beds,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' be&auml;ns be sweet to snuff, O;</p>
+  <p>The te&auml;per woats do bend their heads,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The barley's beard is rough, O.</p>
+  <p>The turnip green is fresh between</p>
+    <p class="i2">The corn in hill or hollow,</p>
+  <p>But I'd look down upon a groun'</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' wheat a-turn&egrave;n yollow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>'Tis merry when the brawny men</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do come to reap it down, O,</p>
+  <p>Where glossy red the poppy head</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S among the stalks so brown, O.</p>
+  <p>'Tis merry while the wheat's in hile,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Or when, by hill or hollow,</p>
+  <p>The le&auml;zers thick do stoop to pick</p>
+    <p class="i2">The ears so ripe an' yollow.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page77" id="page77"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;77]</span>
+
+<h4>A-HAULEN O' THE CORN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ah! yesterday, you know, we carr'd</p>
+    <p class="i2">The piece o' corn in Zidel&egrave;n Plot,</p>
+  <p>An' work'd about it pretty hard,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' vound the weather pretty hot.</p>
+  <p>'Twer all a-tied an' zet upright</p>
+  <p>In tidy hile o' Monday night;</p>
+  <p>Zoo yesterday in afternoon</p>
+  <p>We zet, in e&auml;rnest, ev'ry woone</p>
+      <p class="i4">A-haul&egrave;n o' the corn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The hosses, wi' the het an' lwoad,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Did froth, an' zwang vrom zide to zide,</p>
+  <p>A-gwa&iuml;n along the dousty road,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' seem'd as if they would a-died.</p>
+  <p>An' wi' my collar all undone,</p>
+  <p>An' neck a-burn&egrave;n wi' the zun,</p>
+  <p>I got, wi' work, an' doust, an' het,</p>
+  <p>So dry at last, I coulden spet,</p>
+        <p class="i6">A-haul&egrave;n o' the corn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>At uncle's orcha'd, gwa&iuml;n along,</p>
+    <p class="i2">I begged some apples, vor to quench</p>
+  <p>My drith, o' Poll that wer among</p>
+    <p class="i2">The trees: but she, a saucy wench,</p>
+  <p>Toss'd over hedge some crabs vor fun.</p>
+  <p>I squa&iuml;l'd her, though, an' me&auml;de her run;</p>
+  <p>An' zoo she gie'd me, vor a treat,</p>
+  <p>A lot o' stubberds vor to eat.</p>
+        <p class="i6">A-haul&egrave;n o' the corn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' up at rick, Je&auml;ne took the flagon,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' gi'ed us out zome e&auml;le; an' then</p>
+  <p>I carr'd her out upon the waggon,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' bread an' cheese to gi'e the men.</p><a name="page78" id="page78"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;78]</span>
+  <p>An' there, vor fun, we dress'd her head</p>
+  <p>Wi' nodd&egrave;n poppies bright an' red,</p>
+  <p>As we wer catch&egrave;n vrom our laps,</p>
+ <p> Below a woak, our bits an' draps,</p>
+        <p class="i6">A-haul&egrave;n o' the corn.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p78" id="p78"></a>
+
+<h4>HARVEST HWOME.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>The vu'st pe&auml;rt. The Supper.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Since we wer stripl&egrave;ns na&iuml;ghbour John,</p>
+  <p>The good wold merry times be gone:</p>
+  <p>But we do like to think upon</p>
+      <p class="i4">What we've a-zeed an' done.</p>
+  <p>When I wer up a hardish lad,</p>
+  <p>At harvest hwome the work-vo'k had</p>
+  <p>Sich suppers, they wer jump&egrave;n mad</p>
+      <p class="i4">Wi' fe&auml;st&egrave;n an' wi' fun.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>At uncle's, I do mind, woone year,</p>
+  <p>I zeed a vill o' hearty cheer;</p>
+  <p>Fat beef an' pudd&egrave;n, e&auml;le an' beer,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Vor ev'ry workman's crop</p>
+  <p>An' after they'd a-gie'd God thanks,</p>
+  <p>They all zot down, in two long ranks,</p>
+  <p>Along a te&auml;ble-bwoard o' planks,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Wi' uncle at the top.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' there, in platters, big and brown,</p>
+  <p>Wer red fat be&auml;con, an' a roun'</p>
+  <p>O' beef wi' gravy that would drown</p>
+      <p class="i4">A little rwoast&egrave;n pig;</p>
+  <p>Wi' be&auml;ns an' te&auml;ties vull a zack,</p>
+  <p>An' cabbage that would me&auml;ke a stack,</p>
+  <p>An' pudd&egrave;ns brown, a-speckled black</p>
+      <p class="i4">Wi' figs, so big's my wig.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page79" id="page79"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;79]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' uncle, wi' his elbows out,</p>
+  <p>Did carve, an' me&auml;ke the gravy spout;</p>
+  <p>An' aunt did gi'e the mugs about</p>
+      <p class="i4">A-froth&egrave;n to the brim.</p>
+  <p>Ple&auml;tes werden then ov e'then ware,</p>
+  <p>They ate off pewter, that would bear</p>
+  <p>A knock; or wooden trenchers, square,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Wi' zalt-holes at the rim.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' zoo they munch'd their hearty cheer,</p>
+  <p>An' dipp'd their beards in frothy-beer,</p>
+  <p>An' laugh'd, an' jok'd&mdash;they couldden hear</p>
+      <p class="i4">What woone another zaid.</p>
+  <p>An' all o'm drink'd, wi' woone accword,</p>
+  <p>The wold vo'k's health: an' be&auml;t the bwoard,</p>
+  <p>An' swung their e&auml;rms about, an' roar'd,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Enough to crack woone's head.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p79" id="p79"></a>
+
+<h4>HARVEST HWOME.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>Second Pe&auml;rt. What they did after Supper.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Zoo after supper wer a-done,</p>
+  <p>They clear'd the te&auml;bles, an' begun</p>
+  <p>To have a little bit o' fun,</p>
+      <p class="i4">As long as they mid stop.</p>
+  <p>The wold woones took their pipes to smoke,</p>
+  <p>An' tell their te&auml;les, an' laugh an' joke,</p>
+  <p>A-look&egrave;n at the younger vo'k,</p>
+      <p class="i4">That got up vor a hop.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Woone scre&auml;p'd away, wi' merry grin,</p>
+  <p>A fiddle stuck below his chin;</p>
+  <p>An' woone o'm took the roll&egrave;n pin,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' be&auml;t the fry&egrave;n pan.</p><a name="page80" id="page80"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;80]</span>
+  <p>An' tothers, danc&egrave;n to the soun',</p>
+  <p>Went in an' out, an' droo an' roun',</p>
+  <p>An' kick'd, an' be&auml;t the tu&egrave;n down,</p>
+      <p class="i4">A-laugh&egrave;n, ma&iuml;d an' man.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' then a ma&iuml;d, all up tip-tooe,</p>
+  <p>Vell down; an' woone o'm wi' his shoe</p>
+  <p>Slit down her pocket-hole in two,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Vrom top a-most to bottom.</p>
+  <p>An' when they had a-danc'd enough,</p>
+  <p>They got a-pla&yuml;&egrave;n blindman's buff,</p>
+  <p>An' sard the ma&iuml;dens pretty rough,</p>
+      <p class="i4">When woonce they had a-got em.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' zome did drink, an' laugh, an' roar,</p>
+  <p>An' lots o' te&auml;les they had in store,</p>
+  <p>O' things that happen'd years avore</p>
+      <p class="i4">To them, or vo'k they know'd.</p>
+  <p>An' zome did joke, an' zome did zing,</p>
+  <p>An' me&auml;ke the girt wold kitchen ring;</p>
+  <p>Till uncle's cock, wi' flapp&egrave;n wing,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Stratch'd out his neck an' crow'd.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p80" id="p80"></a>
+
+<h4>A ZONG OV HARVEST HWOME.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The ground is clear. There's nar a ear</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' stann&egrave;n corn a-left out now,</p>
+  <p>Vor win' to blow or ra&iuml;n to drow;</p>
+    <p class="i2">'Tis all up se&auml;fe in barn or mow.</p>
+    <p class="i2">Here's health to them that plough'd an' zow'd;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Here's health to them that reap'd an' mow'd,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' them that had to pitch an' lwoad,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Or tip the rick at Harvest Hwome.</p>
+  <p><i>The happy zight,&mdash;the merry night,</i></p>
+  <p><i>The men's delight,&mdash;the Harvest Hwome.</i></p></div>
+
+<a name="page81" id="page81"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;81]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' mid noo harm o' vire or storm</p>
+    <p class="i2">Beval the farmer or his corn;</p>
+  <p>An' ev'ry zack o' zeed gi'e back</p>
+    <p class="i2">A hunderd-vwold so much in barn.</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' mid his Me&auml;ker bless his store,</p>
+    <p class="i2">His wife an' all that she've a-bore,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' keep all evil out o' door,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vrom Harvest Hwome to Harvest Hwome.</p>
+  <p><i>The happy zight,&mdash;the merry night,</i></p>
+  <p><i>The men's delight,&mdash;the Harvest Hwome.</i></p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Mid noth&egrave;n ill betide the mill,</p>
+    <p class="i2">As day by day the miller's wheel</p>
+  <p>Do dreve his clacks, an' heist his zacks,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' vill his bins wi' show'r&egrave;n meal:</p>
+    <p class="i2">Mid's water never overflow</p>
+    <p class="i2">His dousty mill, nor zink too low,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vrom now till wheat age&auml;n do grow,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' we've another Harvest Hwome.</p>
+  <p><i>The happy zight,&mdash;the merry night,</i></p>
+  <p><i>The men's delight,&mdash;the Harvest Hwome.</i></p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Drough cisterns wet an' malt-kil's het,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Mid barley pa&yuml; the malter's pa&iuml;ns;</p>
+  <p>An' mid noo hurt bevall the wort,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-bweil&egrave;n vrom the brewer's gra&iuml;ns.</p>
+    <p class="i2">Mid all his beer keep out o' harm</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vrom bu'sted hoop or thunder storm,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That we mid have a mug to warm</p>
+    <p class="i2">Our merry hearts nex' Harvest Hwome.</p>
+  <p><i>The happy zight,&mdash;the merry night,</i></p>
+  <p><i>The men's delight,&mdash;the Harvest Hwome.</i></p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Mid luck an' ja&yuml; the be&auml;ker pa&yuml;,</p>
+    <p class="i2">As he do hear his vier roar,</p>
+  <p>Or nimbly catch his hot white batch,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-reek&egrave;n vrom the oven door.</p><a name="page82" id="page82"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;82]</span>
+    <p class="i2">An' mid it never be too high</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor our vew zixpences to buy,</p>
+    <p class="i2">When we do hear our childern cry</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor bread, avore nex' Harvest Hwome.</p>
+  <p><i>The happy zight,&mdash;the merry night,</i></p>
+  <p><i>The men's delight,&mdash;the Harvest Hwome.</i></p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Wi' ja&yuml; o' heart mid shooters start</p>
+    <p class="i2">The whirr&egrave;n pa'tridges in vlocks;</p>
+  <p>While shots do vlee drough bush an' tree,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' dogs do stan' so still as stocks.</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' let em ramble round the farms</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' guns 'ithin their bended e&auml;rms,</p>
+    <p class="i2">In goolden zunsheen free o' storms,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Reja&iuml;c&egrave;n vor the Harvest Hwome.</p>
+  <p><i>The happy zight,&mdash;the merry night,</i></p>
+  <p><i>The men's delight,&mdash;the Harvest Hwome.</i></p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p82" id="p82"></a>
+
+<h4>POLL'S JACK-DAW.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! Jimmy vow'd he'd have the law</p>
+<p>Ov ouer cousin Poll's Jack-daw,</p>
+<p>That had by day his withy ja&iuml;l</p>
+<p>A-hang&egrave;n up upon a na&iuml;l,</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n the elem tree, avore</p>
+<p>The house, jist over-right the door,</p>
+<p>An' twitted vo'k a-pass&egrave;n by</p>
+<p>A-most so pla&iuml;n as you or I;</p>
+<p>Vor hardly any day did pass</p>
+<p>'Ithout Tom's teach&egrave;n o'm zome sa'ce;</p>
+<p>Till by-an'-by he call'd em all</p>
+<p>'Soft-polls' an' 'gawkeys,' girt an' small.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo, as Jim went down along</p>
+<p>The le&auml;ne a-whissl&egrave;n ov a zong,</p>
+<p>The saucy Daw cried out by rote</p>
+<p>"Girt Soft-poll!" lik' to split his droat.</p><a name="page83" id="page83"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;83]</span>
+<p>Jim stopp'd an' grabbled up a clot,</p>
+<p>An' zent en at en lik' a shot;</p>
+<p>An' down went Daw an' cage avore</p>
+<p>The clot, up thump age&auml;n the door.</p>
+<p>Zoo out run Poll an' Tom, to zee</p>
+<p>What all the me&auml;n&egrave;n o't mid be;</p>
+<p>"Now who did that?" zaid Poll. "Who whurr'd</p>
+<p>The&auml;se clot?" "Girt Soft-poll!" cried the bird.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when Tom catch'd a glimpse o' Jim,</p>
+<p>A-look&egrave;n all so red an' slim,</p>
+<p>An' slink&egrave;n on, he vled, red hot,</p>
+<p>Down le&auml;ne to catch en, lik' a shot;</p>
+<p>But Jim, that thought he'd better trust</p>
+<p>To lags than vistes, tried em vu'st.</p>
+<p>An' Poll, that zeed Tom woulden catch</p>
+<p>En, stood a-smil&egrave;n at the hatch.</p>
+<p>An' zoo he vollow'd en for two</p>
+<p>Or dree stwones' drows, an' let en goo.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p83" id="p83"></a>
+
+<h4>THE IVY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Upon the&auml;se knap I'd sooner be</p>
+  <p>The ivy that do climb the tree,</p>
+  <p>Than bloom the ga&yuml;est rwose a-tied</p>
+  <p>An' trimm'd upon the house's zide.</p>
+  <p>The rwose mid be the ma&iuml;dens' pride,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But still the ivy's wild an' free;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' what is all that life can gi'e,</p>
+      <p class="i4">'Ithout a free light heart, John?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The creep&egrave;n she&auml;de mid steal too soon</p>
+  <p>Upon the rwose in afternoon;</p>
+  <p>But here the zun do drow his het</p>
+  <p>Vrom when do rise till when do zet,</p><a name="page84" id="page84"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;84]</span>
+  <p>To dry the leaves the ra&iuml;n do wet.</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' even&egrave;n a&iuml;r do bring along</p>
+    <p class="i2">The merry de&auml;iry-ma&iuml;den's zong,</p>
+      <p class="i4">The zong of free light hearts, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Oh! why do vo'k so often cha&iuml;n</p>
+  <p>Their pin&egrave;n minds vor love o' ga&iuml;n,</p>
+  <p>An' gi'e their innocence to rise</p>
+  <p>A little in the worold's eyes?</p>
+  <p>If pride could lift us to the skies,</p>
+    <p class="i2">What man do value God do slight,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' all is noth&egrave;n in his zight</p>
+      <p class="i4">'Ithout an honest heart, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An ugly fe&auml;ce can't bribe the brooks</p>
+  <p>To show it back young han'some looks,</p>
+  <p>Nor crooked vo'k intice the light</p>
+  <p>To cast their zummer she&auml;des upright:</p>
+  <p>Noo goold can blind our Me&auml;ker's zight.</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' what's the odds what cloth do hide</p>
+    <p class="i2">The bosom that do hold inside</p>
+      <p class="i4">A free an' honest heart, John?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p84" id="p84"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WELSHNUT TREE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When in the even&egrave;n the zun's a-zink&egrave;n,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A drow&egrave;n she&auml;des vrom the yollow west,</p>
+  <p>An' mother, weary, 's a-zot a think&egrave;n,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' vwolded e&auml;rms by the vire at rest,</p>
+          <p class="i8">Then we do zwarm, O,</p>
+          <p class="i8">Wi' such a charm, O,</p>
+    <p class="i2">So vull o' glee by the welshnut tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>A-le&auml;v&egrave;n father in-doors, a-lein&egrave;n'</p>
+    <p class="i2">In his girt chair in his easy shoes,</p><a name="page85" id="page85"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;85]</span>
+  <p>Or in the settle so high behine en,</p>
+    <p class="i2">While down bezide en the dog do snooze,</p>
+          <p class="i8">Our tongues do run, O,</p>
+          <p class="i8">Enough to stun, O,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Your head wi' glee by the welshnut tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>There we do pla&yuml; 'thread the woman's needle.'</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' slap the ma&iuml;dens a-dart&egrave;n drough:</p>
+  <p>Or try who'll ax em the hardest riddle,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Or soonest tell woone a-put us, true;</p>
+          <p class="i8">Or zit an' ring, O,</p>
+          <p class="i8">The bells, ding, ding, O,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Upon our knee by the welshnut tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' zome do goo out, an' hide in orcha't,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' tothers, slily a-steal&egrave;n by,</p>
+  <p>Where there's a dark cunn&egrave;n ple&auml;ce, do sarch it,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Till they do zee em an' cry, "I spy,"</p>
+          <p class="i8">An' thik a-vound, O,</p>
+          <p class="i8">Do gi'e a bound, O,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To get off free to the welshnut tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Poll went woone night, that we midden vind her,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Inzide a woak wi' a hollow moot,</p>
+  <p>An' drough a hole near the groun' behind her,</p>
+    <p class="i2">I pok'd a stick in, an' catch'd her voot;</p>
+          <p class="i8">An' out she scream'd, O,</p>
+          <p class="i8">An' jump'd, an' seem'd, O,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-m&oacute;st to vlee to the welshnut tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when, at last, at the drashel, mother</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do call us, smil&egrave;n, in-door to rest,</p>
+  <p>Then we do cluster by woone another,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To zee hwome them we do love the best:</p>
+          <p class="i8">An' then do sound, O,</p>
+          <p class="i8">"Good night," all round, O,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To end our glee by the welshnut tree.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page86" id="page86"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;86]</span>
+
+<h4>JENNY OUT VROM HWOME.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>O wild-re&auml;v&egrave;n west winds; as you do roar on,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The elems do rock an' the poplars do ply,</p>
+  <p>An' we&auml;ve do dreve we&auml;ve in the dark-water'd pon',&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Oh! where do ye rise vrom, an' where do ye die?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>O wild-re&auml;v&egrave;n winds I do wish I could vlee</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' you, lik' a bird o' the clouds, up above</p>
+  <p>The ridge o' the hill an' the top o' the tree,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To where I do long vor, an' vo'k I do love.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Or else that in under the&auml;se rock I could hear,</p>
+    <p class="i2">In the soft-zwell&egrave;n sounds you do le&auml;ve in your road,</p>
+  <p>Zome words you mid bring me, vrom tongues that be dear,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vrom friends that do love me, all scatter'd abrode.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>O wild-re&auml;v&egrave;n winds! if you ever do roar</p>
+    <p class="i2">By the house an' the elems vrom where I'm a-come,</p>
+  <p>Breathe up at the window, or call at the door,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' tell you've a-voun' me a-think&egrave;n o' hwome.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p86" id="p86"></a>
+
+<h4>GRENLEY WATER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The she&auml;deless darkness o' the night</p>
+  <p>Can never blind my mem'ry's zight;</p>
+  <p>An' in the storm, my fancy's eyes</p>
+  <p>Can look upon their own blue skies.</p>
+  <p>The lagg&egrave;n moon mid fa&iuml;l to rise,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But when the daylight's blue an' green</p>
+    <p class="i2">Be gone, my fancy's zun do sheen</p>
+      <p class="i4">At hwome at Grenley Water.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>As when the work-vo'k us'd to ride </p>
+  <p>In waggon, by the hedge's zide,</p><a name="page87" id="page87"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;87]</span>
+  <p>Drough even&egrave;n she&auml;des that trees cast down</p>
+  <p>Vrom lofty stems athirt the groun';</p>
+  <p>An' in at house the mug went roun',</p>
+    <p class="i2">While ev'ry merry man pra&iuml;s'd up</p>
+    <p class="i2">The pretty ma&iuml;d that vill'd his cup,</p>
+      <p class="i4">The ma&iuml;d o' Grenley Water.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>There I do seem age&auml;n to ride</p>
+  <p>The hosses to the water-zide,</p>
+  <p>An' zee the visher fling his hook</p>
+  <p>Below the withies by the brook;</p>
+  <p>Or Fanny, wi' her blush&egrave;n look,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Car on her pa&iuml;l, or come to dip</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' ce&auml;reful step, her pitcher's lip</p>
+      <p class="i4">Down into Grenley Water.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>If I'd a farm wi' vower ploughs,</p>
+  <p>An' vor my de&auml;iry fifty cows;</p>
+  <p>If Grenley Water winded down</p>
+  <p>Drough two good miles o' my own groun';</p>
+  <p>If half ov Ashknowle Hill wer brown</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' my own corn,&mdash;noo grow&egrave;n pride</p>
+    <p class="i2">Should ever me&auml;ke me cast azide</p>
+      <p class="i4">The ma&iuml;d o' Grenley Water.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p87" id="p87"></a>
+
+<h4>THE VEAIRY VEET THAT I DO MEET.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When dewy fall's red leaves do vlee</p>
+  <p>Along the grass below the tree,</p>
+  <p>Or lie in yollow beds a-shook</p>
+  <p>Upon the shallow-water'd brook,</p>
+  <p>Or drove 'ithin a she&auml;dy nook;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Then softly, in the even&egrave;n, down</p>
+    <p class="i2">The knap do steal along the groun'</p>
+      <p class="i4">The ve&auml;iry veet that I do meet</p>
+      <p class="i4">Below the row o' beech trees.</p></div>
+<a name="page88" id="page88"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;88]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>'Tis jist avore the candle-light</p>
+  <p>Do redden windows up at night,</p>
+  <p>An' pe&auml;ler stars do light the vogs</p>
+  <p>A-ris&egrave;n vrom the brooks an' bogs,</p>
+  <p>An' when in barkens yopp&egrave;n dogs</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do bark at vo'k a-com&egrave;n near,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Or growl a-lis'en&egrave;n to hear</p>
+      <p class="i4">The ve&auml;iry veet that I do meet</p>
+      <p class="i4">Below the row o' beech trees.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Dree times a-year do bless the road</p>
+  <p>O' womanhood a-gwa&iuml;n abrode:</p>
+  <p>When vu'st her litty veet do tread</p>
+  <p>The e&auml;rly Ma&yuml;'s white de&auml;isy bed:</p>
+  <p>When leaves be all a-scattered dead;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' when the winter's vrozen grass</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do glissen in the zun lik' glass</p>
+      <p class="i4">Vor ve&auml;iry veet that I do meet</p>
+      <p class="i4">Below the row o' beech trees.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p88" id="p88"></a>
+
+<h4>MORN&Egrave;N.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When vu'st the break&egrave;n day is red,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' grass is dewy wet,</p>
+  <p>An' roun' the blackberry's a-spread</p>
+    <p class="i2">The spider's gliss'n&egrave;n net,</p>
+  <p>Then I do dreve the cows across</p>
+    <p class="i2">The brook that's in a vog,</p>
+  <p>While they do trot, an' ble&auml;re, an' toss</p>
+    <p class="i2">Their heads to hook the dog;</p>
+  <p>Vor the cock do gi'e me warn&egrave;n,</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' light or dark,</p>
+        <p class="i6">So brisk's a lark,</p>
+    <p class="i2">I'm up at break o' morn&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Avore the ma&iuml;den's sleep's a-broke</p>
+    <p class="i2">By window-strik&egrave;n zun,</p><a name="page89" id="page89"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;89]</span>
+  <p>Avore the busy wife's vu'st smoke</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do curl above the tun,</p>
+  <p>My day's begun. An' when the zun</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a-zink&egrave;n in the west,</p>
+  <p>The work the morn&egrave;n brought's a-done,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' I do goo to rest,</p>
+  <p>Till the cock do gi'e me warn&egrave;n;</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' light or dark,</p>
+        <p class="i6">So brisk's a lark,</p>
+    <p class="i2">I'm up age&auml;n nex' morn&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>We can't keep back the daily zun,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The wind is never still,</p>
+  <p>An' never ha' the streams a-done</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-runn&egrave;n down at hill.</p>
+  <p>Zoo they that ha' their work to do,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Should do't so soon's they can;</p>
+  <p>Vor time an' tide will come an' goo,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' never wa&iuml;t vor man,</p>
+  <p>As the cock do gi'e me warn&egrave;n;</p>
+        <p class="i6">When, light or dark,</p>
+        <p class="i6">So brisk's a lark,</p>
+    <p class="i2">I'm up so rathe in morn&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>We've le&auml;zes where the a&iuml;r do blow,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' me&auml;ds wi' de&auml;iry cows,</p>
+  <p>An' copse wi' lewth an' she&auml;de below</p>
+    <p class="i2">The overhang&egrave;n boughs.</p>
+  <p>An' when the zun, noo time can tire,</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a-quench'd below the west,</p>
+  <p>Then we've, avore the ble&auml;z&egrave;n vire,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A settle vor to rest,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>To be up age&auml;n nex' morn&egrave;n</p>
+        <p class="i6">So brisk's a lark,</p>
+        <p class="i6">When, light or dark,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The cock do gi'e us warn&egrave;n.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page90" id="page90"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;90]</span>
+
+<h4>OUT A-NUTT&Egrave;N.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Last week, when we'd a haul'd the crops,</p>
+  <p>We went a-nutt&egrave;n out in copse,</p>
+  <p>Wi' nutt&egrave;n-bags to bring hwome vull,</p>
+  <p>An' beaky nutt&egrave;n-crooks to pull</p>
+  <p>The bushes down; an' all o's wore</p>
+  <p>Wold clothes that wer in rags avore,</p>
+  <p>An' look'd, as we did skip an' zing,</p>
+  <p>Lik' merry gipsies in a string,</p>
+      <p class="i4">A-gwa&iuml;n a-nutt&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Zoo drough the stubble, over rudge</p>
+  <p>An' vurrow, we begun to trudge;</p>
+  <p>An' Sal an' Nan agreed to pick</p>
+  <p>Along wi' me, an' Poll wi' Dick;</p>
+  <p>An' they went where the wold wood, high</p>
+  <p>An' thick, did meet an' hide the sky;</p>
+  <p>But we thought we mid vind zome good</p>
+  <p>Ripe nuts among the shorter wood,</p>
+      <p class="i4">The best vor nutt&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>We voun' zome bushes that did fe&auml;ce</p>
+  <p>The downcast zunlight's highest ple&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p>Where clusters hung so ripe an' brown,</p>
+  <p>That some slipp'd shell an' vell to groun'.</p>
+  <p>But Sal wi' me zoo hitch'd her lag</p>
+  <p>In brembles, that she coulden wag;</p>
+  <p>While Poll kept clwose to Dick, an' stole</p>
+  <p>The nuts vrom's hinder pocket-hole,</p>
+      <p class="i4">While he did nutty.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' Nanny thought she zaw a sne&auml;ke,</p>
+  <p>An' jump'd off into zome girt bre&auml;ke,</p>
+  <p>An' tore the bag where she'd a-put</p>
+  <p>Her she&auml;re, an' shatter'd ev'ry nut.</p><a name="page91" id="page91"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;91]</span>
+  <p>An' out in vield we all zot roun'</p>
+  <p>A white-stemm'd woak upon the groun',</p>
+  <p>Where yollor even&egrave;n light did strik'</p>
+  <p>Drough yollow leaves, that still wer thick</p>
+      <p class="i4"> time o' nutt&egrave;n,</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' twold ov all the luck we had</p>
+  <p>Among the bushes, good an' bad!</p>
+  <p>Till all the ma&iuml;dens left the bwoys,</p>
+  <p>An' skipp'd about the le&auml;ze all woys</p>
+  <p>Vor musherooms, to car back zome,</p>
+  <p>A treat vor father in at hwome.</p>
+  <p>Zoo off we trudg'd wi' clothes in slents</p>
+  <p>An' libbets, jis' lik' Jack-o'-lents,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Vrom copse a-nutt&egrave;n.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p91" id="p91"></a>
+
+<h4>TEAKEN IN APPLES.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>We took the apples in last week,</p>
+<p>An' got, by night, zome e&auml;ch&egrave;n backs</p>
+<p>A-stoop&egrave;n down all day to pick</p>
+<p>So many up in mawns an' zacks.</p>
+<p>An' there wer Liz so proud an' prim,</p>
+<p>An' dumpy Nan, an' Poll so sly;</p>
+<p>An' dapper Tom, an' lopp&egrave;n Jim,</p>
+<p>An' little Dick, an' Fan, an' I.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there the lwoaded tree bent low,</p>
+<p>Behung wi' apples green an' red;</p>
+<p>An' spring&egrave;n grass could hardly grow,</p>
+<p>Drough windvalls down below his head.</p>
+<p>An' when the ma&iuml;dens come in roun'</p>
+<p>The heavy boughs to vill their laps,</p>
+<p>We slily shook the apples down</p>
+<p>Lik' ha&iuml;l, an' gi'ed their backs some raps.</p></div>
+<a name="page92" id="page92"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;92]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zome big apple, Jimmy flung</p>
+<p>To squa&iuml;l me, gi'ed me sich a crack;</p>
+<p>But very shortly his ear rung,</p>
+<p>Wi' woone I zent to pa&yuml; en back.</p>
+<p>An' after we'd a-had our squa&iuml;ls,</p>
+<p>Poor Tom, a-jump&egrave;n in a bag,</p>
+<p>Wer pinch'd by all the ma&iuml;den's na&iuml;ls,</p>
+<p>An' rolled down into hwome-groun' quag.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then they carr'd our Fan all roun',</p>
+<p>'Ithin a mawn, till zome girt stump</p>
+<p>Upset en over on the groun',</p>
+<p>An' drow'd her out along-stra&iuml;ght, plump.</p>
+<p>An' in the cider-house we zot</p>
+<p>Upon the windlass Poll an' Nan,</p>
+<p>An' spun 'em roun' till they wer got</p>
+<p>So giddy that they coulden stan'.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p92" id="p92"></a>
+
+<h4>MEAPLE LEAVES BE YOLLOW.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Come, let's stroll down so vur's the poun',</p>
+  <p>Avore the sparkl&egrave;n zun is down:</p>
+  <p>The zummer's gone, an' days so fe&auml;ir</p>
+  <p>As the&auml;se be now a-gett&egrave;n re&auml;re.</p>
+  <p>The night, wi' mwore than daylight's she&auml;re</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' wat'ry sky, do wet wi' dew</p>
+    <p class="i2">The ee-grass up above woone's shoe,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' me&auml;ple leaves be yollow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The last hot doust, above the road,</p>
+  <p>An' vu'st dead leaves ha' been a-blow'd</p>
+  <p>By pla&yuml;some win's where spring did spread</p>
+  <p>The blossoms that the zummer shed;</p>
+  <p>An' near blue sloos an' conkers red</p>
+    <p class="i2">The even&egrave;n zun, a zett&egrave;n soon,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do le&auml;ve a-quiv'r&egrave;n to the moon,</p>
+      <p class="i4">The me&auml;ple leaves so yollow.</p></div>
+<a name="page93" id="page93"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;93]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Zoo come along, an' let's inja&yuml;</p>
+  <p>The last fine weather while do sta&yuml;;</p>
+  <p>While thou canst hang, wi' ribbons slack,</p>
+  <p>Thy bonnet down upon thy back,</p>
+  <p>Avore the winter, cwold an' black,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do kill thy flowers, an' avore</p>
+    <p class="i2">Thy bird-cage is a-took in door,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Though me&auml;ple leaves be yollow.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p93" id="p93"></a>
+
+<h4>NIGHT A-ZETTEN IN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When le&auml;zers wi' their laps o' corn</p>
+    <p class="i2">Noo longer be a-stoop&egrave;n,</p>
+  <p>An' in the stubble, all vorlorn,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Noo poppies be a-droop&egrave;n;</p>
+  <p>When the&auml;se young harvest-moon do we&auml;ne,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That now've his horns so thin, O,</p>
+  <p>We'll le&auml;ve off walk&egrave;n in the le&auml;ne,</p>
+    <p class="i2">While night's a zett&egrave;n in, O.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When zummer doust is all a-laid</p>
+    <p class="i2">Below our litty shoes, O;</p>
+  <p>When all the ra&iuml;n-chill'd flow'rs be dead,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That now do drink the dews, O;</p>
+  <p>When beauty's neck, that's now a-show'd,</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a-muffled to the chin, O;</p>
+  <p>We'll le&auml;ve off walk&egrave;n in the road,</p>
+    <p class="i2">When night's a-zett&egrave;n in, O.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>But now, while barley by the road</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do hang upon the bough, O,</p>
+  <p>A-pull'd by branches off the lwoad</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-rid&egrave;n hwome to mow, O;</p>
+  <p>While spiders roun' the flower-stalks</p>
+    <p class="i2">Ha' cobwebs yet to spin, O,</p>
+  <p>We'll cool ourzelves in out-door walks,</p>
+    <p class="i2">When night's a-zett&egrave;n in, O.</p></div>
+<a name="page94" id="page94"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;94]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>While down at vword the brook so small,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That le&auml;tely wer so high, O,</p>
+  <p>Wi' little tinkl&egrave;n sounds do vall</p>
+    <p class="i2">In roun' the stwones half dry, O;</p>
+  <p>While twilight ha' sich a&iuml;r in store,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To cool our zunburnt skin, O,</p>
+  <p>We'll have a ramble out o' door,</p>
+    <p class="i2">When night's a-zett&egrave;n in, O.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p94" id="p94"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WEATHER-BEATEN TREE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The woaken tree, a-be&auml;t at night</p>
+<p>By stormy winds wi' all their spite,</p>
+<p>Mid toss his lim's, an' ply, an' mwoan,</p>
+<p>Wi' unknown struggles all alwone;</p>
+<p>An' when the day do show his head,</p>
+<p>A-stripp'd by winds at last a-laid,</p>
+<p>How vew mid think that didden zee,</p>
+<p>How night-time had a-tried thik tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' happy vo'k do seldom know</p>
+<p>How hard our unknown storms do blow,</p>
+<p>The while our heads do slowly bend</p>
+<p>Below the trials God do zend,</p>
+<p>Like shiv'r&egrave;n bennets, be&auml;re to all</p>
+<p>The drev&egrave;n winds o' dark'n&egrave;n fall.</p>
+<p>An' zoo in try&egrave;n hardships we</p>
+<p>Be lik' the weather be&auml;ten tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But He will never me&auml;ke our she&auml;re</p>
+<p>O' sorrow mwore than we can bear,</p>
+<p>But me&auml;ke us zee, if 'tis His will,</p>
+<p>That He can bring us good vrom ill;</p>
+<p>As after winter He do bring,</p>
+<p>In His good time, the zunny spring,</p>
+<p>An' leaves, an' young vo'k vull o' glee</p>
+<p>A-danc&egrave;n roun' the woaken tree.</p></div>
+<a name="page95" id="page95"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;95]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>True love's the ivy that do twine</p>
+<p>Unwith'r&egrave;n roun' his mossy rine,</p>
+<p>When winter's zickly zun do sheen</p>
+<p>Upon its leaves o' glossy green,</p>
+<p>So patiently a-hold&egrave;n vast</p>
+<p>Till storms an' cwold be all a-past,</p>
+<p>An' only liv&egrave;n vor to be</p>
+<p>A-me&auml;ted to the woaken tree.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p95" id="p95"></a>
+
+<h4>SHRODON FE&Auml;IR.</h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>The vu'st Pe&auml;rt.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo's the day wer warm an' bright,</p>
+<p>An' nar a cloud wer up in zight,</p>
+<p>We wheedled father vor the me&auml;re</p>
+<p>An' cart, to goo to Shrodon fe&auml;ir.</p>
+<p>An' Poll an' Nan run off up stairs,</p>
+<p>To shift their things, as wild as he&auml;res;</p>
+<p>An' pull'd out, each o'm vrom her box,</p>
+<p>Their snow-white le&auml;ce an' newest frocks,</p>
+<p>An' put their bonnets on, a-lined</p>
+<p>Wi' blue, an' sashes tied behind;</p>
+<p>An' turn'd avore the glass their fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>An' back, to zee their things in ple&auml;ce;</p>
+<p>While Dick an' I did brush our hats</p>
+<p>An' cwoats, an' cle&auml;n ourzelves lik' cats.</p>
+<p>At woone or two o'clock, we vound</p>
+<p>Ourzelves at Shrodon se&auml;fe an' sound,</p>
+<p>A-strutt&egrave;n in among the rows</p>
+<p>O' tilted stann&egrave;ns an' o' shows,</p>
+<p>An' girt long booths wi' little bars</p>
+<p>Chock-vull o' barrels, mugs, an' jars,</p>
+<p>An' meat a-cook&egrave;n out avore</p>
+<p>The vier at the upper door;</p><a name="page96" id="page96"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;96]</span>
+<p>Where zellers bwold to buyers shy</p>
+<p>Did hollow round us, "What d'ye buy?"</p>
+<p>An' scores o' merry tongues did speak</p>
+<p>At woonce, an' childern's pipes did squeak,</p>
+<p>An' horns did blow, an' drums did rumble,</p>
+<p>An' bawl&egrave;n merrymen did tumble;</p>
+<p>An' woone did all but want an edge</p>
+<p>To pe&auml;rt the crowd wi', lik' a wedge.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>We zaw the dancers in a show</p>
+<p>Dance up an' down, an' to an' fro,</p>
+<p>Upon a rwope, wi' chalky zoles,</p>
+<p>So light as magpies up on poles;</p>
+<p>An' tumblers, wi' their streaks an' spots,</p>
+<p>That all but tied theirzelves in knots.</p>
+<p>An' then a conjurer burn'd off</p>
+<p>Poll's han'kerchief so black's a snoff,</p>
+<p>An' het en, wi' a single blow,</p>
+<p>Right back age&auml;n so white as snow.</p>
+<p>An' after that, he fried a fat</p>
+<p>Girt ce&auml;ke inzide o' my new hat;</p>
+<p>An' yet, vor all he did en brown,</p>
+<p>He didden even zweal the crown.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p96" id="p96"></a>
+
+<h4>SHRODON FE&Auml;R.</h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>The rest o't.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' after that we met wi' zome</p>
+<p>O' Mans'on vo'k, but jist a-come,</p>
+<p>An' had a raffle vor a treat</p>
+<p>All roun', o' gingerbread to eat;</p>
+<p>An' Tom me&auml;de le&auml;st, wi' all his she&auml;kes,</p>
+<p>An' pa&iuml;d the money vor the ce&auml;kes,</p>
+<p>But wer so lwoth to put it down</p>
+<p>As if a penny wer a poun'.</p></div>
+<a name="page97" id="page97"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;97]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then up come zidel&egrave;n Sammy He&auml;re,</p>
+<p>That's fond o' Poll, an' she can't bear,</p>
+<p>A-hold&egrave;n out his girt scram vist,</p>
+<p>An' ax'd her, wi' a grin an' twist,</p>
+<p>To have zome nuts; an' she, to hide</p>
+<p>Her laugh&egrave;n, turn'd her head azide,</p>
+<p>An' answer'd that she'd rather not,</p>
+<p>But Nancy mid. An' Nan, so hot</p>
+<p>As vier, zaid 'twer quite enough</p>
+<p>Vor Poll to answer vor herzuf:</p>
+<p>She had a tongue, she zaid, an' wit</p>
+<p>Enough to use en, when 'twer fit.</p>
+<p>An' in the dusk, a-rid&egrave;n round</p>
+<p>Drough Okford, who d'ye think we vound</p>
+<p>But Sam age&auml;n, a-gw&auml;in vrom fe&auml;ir</p>
+<p>Astride his broken-winded me&auml;re.</p>
+<p>An' zoo, a-hett&egrave;n her, he tried</p>
+<p>To keep up clwose by ouer zide:</p>
+<p>But when we come to Ha&yuml;ward-brudge,</p>
+<p>Our Poll gi'ed Dick a me&auml;n&egrave;n nudge,</p>
+<p>An' wi' a little twitch our me&auml;re</p>
+<p>Flung out her lags so lights a he&auml;re,</p>
+<p>An' left poor Sammy's skin an' bwones</p>
+<p>Behind, a-kick&egrave;n o' the stwones.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p97" id="p97"></a>
+
+<h4>MARTIN'S TIDE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come, bring a log o' cleft wood, Jack,</p>
+<p>An' fling en on age&auml;n the back,</p>
+<p>An' zee the outside door is vast,&mdash;</p>
+<p>The win' do blow a cwoldish blast.</p>
+<p>Come, so's! come, pull your chairs in roun'</p>
+<p>Avore the vire; an' let's zit down,</p>
+<p>An' keep up Martin's-tide, vor I</p>
+<p>Shall keep it up till I do die.</p><a name="page98" id="page98"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;98]</span>
+<p>'Twer Martinmas, and ouer fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>When Je&auml;ne an' I, a happy pe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>Vu'st walk'd, a-keep&egrave;n up the tide,</p>
+<p>Among the stan'ens, zide by zide;</p>
+<p>An' thik day twel'month, never fa&iuml;l&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>She gi'ed me at the chancel ra&iuml;l&egrave;n</p>
+<p>A heart&mdash;though I do sound her praise&mdash;</p>
+<p>As true as ever be&auml;t in sta&yuml;s.</p>
+<p>How vast the time do goo! Do seem</p>
+<p>But yesterday,&mdash;'tis lik' a dream!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah, s&#333;'s! 'tis now zome years agoo</p>
+<p>You vu'st knew me, an' I knew you;</p>
+<p>An' we've a-had zome bits o' fun,</p>
+<p>By winter vire an' zummer zun.</p>
+<p>Aye; we've a-prowl'd an' rigg'd about</p>
+<p>Lik' cats, in harm's way mwore than out,</p>
+<p>An' busy wi' the tricks we pla&yuml;'d</p>
+<p>In fun, to outwit chap or ma&iuml;d.</p>
+<p>An' out avore the ble&auml;z&egrave;n he'th,</p>
+<p>Our na&iuml;sy tongues, in winter me'th,</p>
+<p>'V a-shook the warm&egrave;n-pan, a-hung</p>
+<p>Bezide us, till his cover rung.</p>
+<p>There, 'twer but tother day thik chap,</p>
+<p>Our Robert, wer a child in lap;</p>
+<p>An' Poll's two little lags hung down</p>
+<p>Vrom thik wold chair a span vrom groun',</p>
+<p>An' now the saucy wench do stride</p>
+<p>About wi' steps o' dree veet wide.</p>
+<p>How time do goo! A life do seem</p>
+<p>As 'twer a year; 'tis lik' a dream!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page99" id="page99"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;99]</span>
+
+<h4>GUY FAUX'S NIGHT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Guy Faux's night, dost know, we chaps,</p>
+  <p>A-putten on our woldest traps,</p>
+  <p>Went up the highest o' the knaps,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' me&auml;de up such a vier!</p>
+  <p>An' thou an' Tom wer all we miss'd,</p>
+  <p>Vor if a sarpent had a-hiss'd</p>
+  <p>Among the rest in thy sprack vist,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Our fun 'd a-been the higher.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>We chaps at hwome, an' Will our cousin,</p>
+  <p>Took up a half a lwoad o' vuzzen;</p>
+  <p>An' burn'd a barrel wi' a dozen</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' faggots, till above en</p>
+  <p>The fle&auml;mes, aris&egrave;n up so high</p>
+  <p>'S the tun, did snap, an' roar, an' ply,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Lik' vier in an' oven.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' zome wi' hiss&egrave;n squibs did run,</p>
+  <p>To pa&yuml; off zome what they'd a-done,</p>
+  <p>An' let em off so loud's a gun</p>
+    <p class="i2">Age&auml;n their smok&egrave;n polls;</p>
+  <p>An' zome did stir their nimble pags</p>
+  <p>Wi' crackers in between their lags,</p>
+  <p>While zome did burn their cwoats to rags,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Or wes'cots out in holes.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' zome o'm's heads lost half their locks,</p>
+  <p>An' zome o'm got their white smock-frocks</p>
+  <p>Jist fit to vill the tinder-box,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' half the backs o'm off;</p>
+  <p>An' Dick, that all o'm vell upon,</p>
+  <p>Vound woone flap ov his cwoat-ta&iuml;l gone,</p>
+  <p>An' tother jist a-hang&egrave;n on,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-zweal'd so black's a snoff.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="page100" id="page100"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;100]</span>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<h3>THE COMMON A-TOOK IN.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>Thomas an' John.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Good morn t'ye, John. How b'ye? how b'ye?</p>
+<p>Zoo you be gwa&iuml;n to market, I do zee.</p>
+<p>Why, you be quite a-lwoaded wi' your geese.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ees, Thomas, ees.</p>
+<p>Why, I'm a-gett&egrave;n rid ov ev'ry goose</p>
+<p>An' gosl&egrave;n I've a-got: an' what is woose,</p>
+<p>I fear that I must zell my little cow.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How zoo, then, John? Why, what's the matter now?</p>
+<p>What, can't ye get along? B'ye run a-ground?</p>
+<p>An' can't pa&yuml; twenty shill&egrave;ns vor a pound?</p>
+<p>What can't ye put a lwoaf on shelf?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+                         <p class="i16">Ees, now;</p>
+<p>But I do fear I shan't 'ithout my cow.</p>
+<p>No; they do m&euml;an to te&auml;ke the moor in, I do hear,</p>
+<p>An' 'twill be soon begun upon;</p>
+<p>Zoo I must zell my bit o' stock to-year,</p>
+<p>Because they woon't have any groun' to run upon.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why, what d'ye tell o'? I be very zorry</p>
+<p>To hear what they be gwa&iuml;n about;</p>
+<p>But yet I s'pose there'll be a 'lotment vor ye,</p>
+<p>When they do come to mark it out.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<a name="page101" id="page101"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;101]</span>
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No; not vor me, I fear. An' if there should,</p>
+<p>Why 'twoulden be so handy as 'tis now;</p>
+<p>Vor 'tis the common that do do me good,</p>
+<p>The run for my vew geese, or vor my cow.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ees, that's the job; why 'tis a handy thing</p>
+<p>To have a bit o' common, I do know,</p>
+<p>To put a little cow upon in Spring,</p>
+<p>The while woone's bit ov orcha'd grass do grow.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, that's the thing, you zee. Now I do mow</p>
+<p>My bit o' grass, an' me&auml;ke a little rick;</p>
+<p>An' in the zummer, while do grow,</p>
+<p>My cow do run in common vor to pick</p>
+<p>A ble&auml;de or two o' grass, if she can vind em,</p>
+<p>Vor tother cattle don't le&auml;ve much behind em.</p>
+<p>Zoo in the even&egrave;n, we do put a lock</p>
+<p>O' nice fresh grass avore the wicket;</p>
+<p>An' she do come at vive or zix o'clock,</p>
+<p>As constant as the zun, to pick it.</p>
+<p>An' then, bezides the cow, why we do let</p>
+<p>Our geese run out among the emmet hills;</p>
+<p>An' then when we do pluck em, we do get</p>
+<p>Vor ze&auml;le zome veathers an' zome quills;</p>
+<p>An' in the winter we do fat em well,</p>
+<p>An' car em to the market vor to zell</p>
+<p>To gentlevo'ks, vor we don't oft avvword</p>
+<p>To put a goose a-top ov ouer bwoard;</p>
+<p>But we do get our fe&auml;st,&mdash;vor we be e&auml;ble</p>
+<p>To clap the giblets up a-top o' te&auml;ble.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' I don't know o' many better things,</p>
+<p>Than geese's heads and gizzards, lags an' wings.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<a name="page102" id="page102"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;102]</span>
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then, when I ha' noth&egrave;n else to do,</p>
+<p>Why I can te&auml;ke my hook an' gloves, an' goo</p>
+<p>To cut a lot o' vuzz and briars</p>
+<p>Vor het&egrave;n ovens, or vor light&egrave;n viers.</p>
+<p>An' when the childern be too young to e&auml;rn</p>
+<p>A penny, they can g'out in zunny weather,</p>
+<p>An' run about, an' get together</p>
+<p>A bag o' cow-dung vor to burn.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis handy to live near a common;</p>
+<p>But I've a-zeed, an' I've a-zaid,</p>
+<p>That if a poor man got a bit o' bread,</p>
+<p>They'll try to te&auml;ke it vrom en.</p>
+<p>But I wer twold back tother day,</p>
+<p>That they be got into a way</p>
+<p>O' lett&egrave;n bits o' groun' out to the poor.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, I do hope 'tis true, I'm sure;</p>
+<p>An' I do hope that they will do it here,</p>
+<p>Or I must goo to workhouse, I do fear.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/wavy_rule2-120.png" width="120" height="7" alt="wavy rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+
+<a name="p102" id="p102"></a>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<h3>TWO FARMS IN WOONE.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>Robert an' Thomas.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h5>ROBERT.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>You'll lose your me&auml;ster soon, then, I do vind;</p>
+<p>He's gwa&iuml;n to le&auml;ve his farm, as I do larn,</p>
+<p>At Mi&euml;lmas; an' I be zorry vor'n.</p>
+<p>What, is he then a little bit behind?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<a name="page103" id="page103"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;103]</span>
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O no! at Mi&euml;lmas his time is up,</p>
+<p>An' thik there sly wold fellow, Farmer Tup,</p>
+<p>A-fear&egrave;n that he'd get a bit o' bread,</p>
+<p>'V a-been an' took his farm here over's head.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>ROBERT.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How come the Squire to treat your me&auml;ster zoo?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why, he an' me&auml;ster had a word or two.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>ROBERT.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Is Farmer Tup a-gwa&iuml;n to le&auml;ve his farm?</p>
+<p>He han't a-got noo young woones vor to zwarm.</p>
+<p>Poor over-reach&egrave;n man! why to be sure</p>
+<p>He don't want all the farms in parish, do er?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why ees, all ever he can come across,</p>
+<p>Last year, you know, he got away the e&auml;cre</p>
+<p>Or two o' ground a-rented by the be&auml;ker,</p>
+<p>An' what the butcher had to keep his hoss;</p>
+<p>An' vo'k do be&auml;nhan' now, that me&auml;ster's lot</p>
+<p>Will be a-drowd along wi' what he got.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>ROBERT.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>That's it. In the&auml;se here ple&auml;ce there used to be</p>
+<p>Eight farms avore they wer a-drowd together,</p>
+<p>An' eight farm-housen. Now how many be there?</p>
+<p>Why after this, you know there'll be but dree.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' now they don't imploy so many men</p>
+<p>Upon the land as work'd upon it then,</p>
+<p>Vor all they midden crop it worse, nor stock it.</p>
+<p>The lan'lord, to be sure, is into pocket;</p>
+<p>Vor half the housen be&euml;n down, 'tis clear,</p>
+<p>Don't cost so much to keep em up, a-near.</p><a name="page104" id="page104"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;104]</span>
+<p>But then the jobs o' work in wood an' morter</p>
+<p>Do come I 'spose, you know, a little shorter;</p>
+<p>An' many that wer little farmers then,</p>
+<p>Be now a-come all down to le&auml;b'r&egrave;n men;</p>
+<p>An' many le&auml;b'r&egrave;n men, wi' empty hands,</p>
+<p>Do live lik' drones upon the worker's lands.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>ROBERT.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, if a young chap, woonce, had any wit</p>
+<p>To try an' scrape together zome vew pound,</p>
+<p>To buy some cows an' te&auml;ke a bit o' ground,</p>
+<p>He mid become a farmer, bit by bit.</p>
+<p>But, hang it! now the farms be all so big,</p>
+<p>An' bits o' groun' so ske&auml;'ce, woone got no scope;</p>
+<p>If woone could se&auml;ve a poun', woone couldden hope</p>
+<p>To keep noo live stock but a little pig.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why here wer vourteen men, zome years agoo,</p>
+<p>A-kept a-drash&egrave;n half the winter drough;</p>
+<p>An' now, woone's drashels be'n't a bit o' good.</p>
+<p>They got machines to drashy wi', plague te&auml;ke em!</p>
+<p>An' he that vu'st vound out the way to me&auml;ke em,</p>
+<p>I'd drash his busy zides vor'n if I could!</p>
+<p>Avore they took away our work, they ought</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke us up the bread our le&auml;bour bought.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>ROBERT.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>They hadden need me&auml;ke poor men's le&auml;bour less,</p>
+<p>Vor work a'ready is uncommon ske&auml;'ce.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! Robert! times be badish vor the poor;</p>
+<p>An' worse will come, I be a-fear'd, if Moore</p>
+<p>In the&auml;se year's almanick do tell us right.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h5>ROBERT.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why then we sartainly must starve. Good night!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page105" id="page105"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;105]</span>
+
+<h3>WINTER.</h3>
+
+  <div class="figcenter"><img src="images/rule0-100.png" width="100" height="17" alt="rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+<h4>THE VROST.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Come, run up hwome wi' us to night,</p>
+  <p>Athirt the vield a-vroze so white,</p>
+  <p>Where vrosty she&auml;des do lie below</p>
+  <p>The winter ricks a-tipp'd wi' snow,</p>
+  <p>An' lively birds, wi' wagg&egrave;n ta&iuml;ls,</p>
+  <p>Do hop upon the icy ra&iuml;ls,</p>
+  <p>An' rime do whiten all the tops</p>
+  <p>O' bush an' tree in hedge an' copse,</p>
+    <p class="i2">In wind's a-cutt&egrave;n keen.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Come, ma&iuml;dens, come: the groun's a-vroze</p>
+  <p>Too hard to-night to spweil your clothes.</p>
+  <p>You got noo pools to waddle drough,</p>
+  <p>Nor clay a-pull&egrave;n off your shoe:</p>
+  <p>An' we can trig ye at the zide,</p>
+  <p>To keep ye up if you do slide:</p>
+  <p>Zoo while there's neither wet nor mud,</p>
+  <p>'S the time to run an' warm your blood,</p>
+    <p class="i2">In winds a-cutt&egrave;n keen.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Vor young men's hearts an' ma&iuml;den's eyes</p>
+  <p>Don't vreeze below the cwoldest skies,</p>
+  <p>While they in twice so keen a blast</p>
+  <p>Can wag their brisk lim's twice so vast!</p><a name="page106" id="page106"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;106]</span>
+  <p>Though vier-light, a-flick'r&egrave;n red</p>
+  <p>Drough vrosty window-pe&auml;nes, do spread</p>
+  <p>Vrom wall to wall, vrom he'th to door,</p>
+  <p>Vor us to goo an' zit avore,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vrom winds a-cutt&egrave;n keen.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p106" id="p106"></a>
+
+<h4>A BIT O' FUN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>We thought you woulden le&auml;ve us quite</p>
+  <p>So soon as what you did last night;</p>
+  <p>Our fun jist got up to a height</p>
+    <p class="i2">As you about got hwome.</p>
+  <p>The frisk&egrave;n chaps did skip about,</p>
+  <p>An' cou'se the ma&iuml;dens in an' out,</p>
+  <p>A-me&auml;k&egrave;n such a randy-rout,</p>
+    <p class="i2">You coulden hear a drum.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' Tom, a-spring&egrave;n after Bet</p>
+  <p>Blind-vwolded, whizz'd along, an' het</p>
+  <p>Poor Grammer's zide, an' overzet</p>
+    <p class="i2">Her chair, at blind-man's buff;</p>
+  <p>An' she, poor soul, as she did vall,</p>
+  <p>Did show her snags o' teeth an' squall,</p>
+  <p>An' what, she zaid, wer wo'se than all,</p>
+    <p class="i2">She shatter'd all her snuff.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' Bet, a-hopp&egrave;n back vor fear</p>
+  <p>O' Tom, struck uncle zomewhere near,</p>
+  <p>An' me&auml;de his han' spill all his beer</p>
+    <p class="i2">Right down her poll an' back;</p>
+  <p>An' Joe, in middle o' the din,</p>
+  <p>Slipt out a bit, an' soon come in</p>
+  <p>Wi' all below his dapper chin</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-jump&egrave;n in a zack.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' in a twinkl&egrave;n tother chaps</p>
+  <p>Jist hung en to a crook wi' straps,</p><a name="page107" id="page107"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;107]</span>
+  <p>An' me&auml;de en bear the ma&iuml;dens' slaps,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' prickens wi' a pin.</p>
+  <p>An' Jim, a-catch&egrave;n Poll, poor chap,</p>
+  <p>In back-house in the dark, vell slap</p>
+  <p>Athirt a tub o' barm,&mdash;a trap</p>
+    <p class="i2">She set to catch en in.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' then we zot down out o' breath,</p>
+  <p>An' me&auml;de a circle roun' the he'th,</p>
+  <p>A-keep&egrave;n up our harmless me'th,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Till supper wer a-come.</p>
+  <p>An' after we'd a-had zome prog,</p>
+  <p>All tother chaps begun to jog,</p>
+  <p>Wi' sticks to lick a thief or dog,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To zee the ma&iuml;dens hwome.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p107" id="p107"></a>
+
+<h4>FANNYS BE'TH-DAY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>How merry, wi' the cider cup,</p>
+  <p>We kept poor Fanny's be'th-day up!</p>
+  <p>An' how our busy tongues did run</p>
+  <p>An' hands did wag, a-me&auml;k&egrave;n fun!</p>
+  <p>What pla&yuml;some anticks zome &#333;'s done!</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' how, a-reel&egrave;n roun' an' roun',</p>
+    <p class="i2">We be&auml;t the merry tu&egrave;n down,</p>
+      <p class="i4">While music wer a-sound&egrave;n!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The ma&iuml;dens' eyes o' black an' blue</p>
+  <p>Did glisten lik' the morn&egrave;n dew;</p>
+  <p>An' while the cider-mug did stand</p>
+  <p>A-hiss&egrave;n by the ble&auml;z&egrave;n brand,</p>
+  <p>An' uncle's pipe wer in his hand,</p>
+    <p class="i2">How little he or we did think</p>
+    <p class="i2">How pe&auml;le the zett&egrave;n stars did blink</p>
+      <p class="i4">While music wer a-sound&egrave;n.</p></div>
+
+ <a name="page108" id="page108"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;108]</span>
+ <div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' Fanny's last young <i>teen</i> begun,</p>
+  <p>Poor ma&iuml;d, wi' thik day's ris&egrave;n zun,</p>
+  <p>An' we all wish'd her many mwore</p>
+  <p>Long years wi' happiness in store;</p>
+  <p>An' as she went an' stood avore</p>
+    <p class="i2">The vier, by her father's zide,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Her mother dropp'd a tear o' pride</p>
+      <p class="i4">While music wer a-sound&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' then we did all kinds o' tricks</p>
+  <p>Wi' han'kerchiefs, an' strings, an' sticks:</p>
+  <p>An' woone did try to overmatch</p>
+  <p>Another wi' zome cunn&egrave;n catch,</p>
+  <p>While tothers slyly tried to hatch</p>
+    <p class="i2">Zome ge&auml;me; but yet, by chap an' ma&iuml;d.</p>
+    <p class="i2">The danc&egrave;n wer the mwost inja&yuml;'d,</p>
+      <p class="i4">While music wer a-sound&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The briskest chap ov all the lot</p>
+  <p>Wer Tom, that danc'd hizzelf so hot,</p>
+  <p>He doff'd his cwoat an' jump'd about,</p>
+  <p>Wi' girt new shirt-sleeves all a-strout,</p>
+  <p>Among the ma&iuml;dens scream&egrave;n out,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-think&egrave;n, wi' his strides an' stamps,</p>
+    <p class="i2">He'd squot their veet wi' his girt clamps,</p>
+      <p class="i4">While music wer a-sound&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Then up jump'd uncle vrom his chair,</p>
+  <p>An' pull'd out aunt to me&auml;ke a pe&auml;ir;</p>
+  <p>An' off he zet upon his tooe,</p>
+  <p>So light's the best that be&auml;t a shoe,</p>
+  <p>Wi' aunt a-cri&egrave;n "Let me goo:"</p>
+    <p class="i2">While all ov us did laugh so loud,</p>
+    <p class="i2">We drown'd the tu&egrave;n o' the croud,</p>
+      <p class="i4">While music wer a-sound&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>A-com&egrave;n out o' passage, Nan,</p>
+  <p>Wi' pipes an' cider in her han',</p><a name="page109" id="page109"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;109]</span>
+  <p>An' watch&egrave;n uncle up so sprack,</p>
+  <p>Vorgot her veet, an' vell down smack</p>
+  <p>Athirt the house-dog's shaggy back,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That wer in passage vor a snooze,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Beyond the reach o' dancers' shoes,</p>
+      <p class="i4">While music wer a-sound&egrave;n.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p109" id="p109"></a>
+
+<h4>WHAT DICK AN' I DID.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Last week the Browns ax'd nearly all</p>
+    <p class="i2">The na&iuml;ghbours to a randy,</p>
+  <p>An' left us out o't, girt an' small,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor all we liv'd so handy;</p>
+  <p>An' zoo I zaid to Dick, "We'll trudge,</p>
+    <p class="i2">When they be in their fun, min;</p>
+  <p>An' car up zome'hat to the rudge,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' jis' stop up the tun, min."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Zoo, wi' the ladder vrom the rick,</p>
+    <p class="i2">We stole towards the house,</p>
+  <p>An' crope in roun' behind en, lik'</p>
+    <p class="i2">A cat upon a mouse.</p>
+  <p>Then, look&egrave;n roun', Dick whisper'd "How</p>
+    <p class="i2">Is the&auml;se job to be done, min:</p>
+  <p>Why we do want a faggot now,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor stopp&egrave;n up the tun, min."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>"Stan' still," I answer'd; "I'll te&auml;ke ce&auml;re</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' that: why dussen zee</p>
+  <p>The little grind&egrave;n stwone out there,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Below the apple-tree?</p>
+  <p>Put up the ladder; in a crack</p>
+    <p class="i2">Shalt zee that I wull run, min,</p>
+  <p>An' te&auml;ke en up upon my back,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' soon stop up the tun, min."</p></div>
+
+<a name="page110" id="page110"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;110]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Zoo up I clomb upon the thatch,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' clapp'd en on; an' slided</p>
+  <p>Right down age&auml;n, an' run drough hatch,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Behind the hedge, an' hided.</p>
+  <p>The vier that wer clear avore,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Begun to spweil their fun, min;</p>
+  <p>The smoke all roll'd toward the door,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor I'd a-stopp'd the tun, min.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The ma&iuml;dens cough'd or stopp'd their breath,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The men did hauk an' spet;</p>
+  <p>The wold vo'k bundled out from he'th</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' eyes a-runn&egrave;n wet.</p>
+  <p>"'T'ool choke us all," the wold man cried,</p>
+    <p class="i2">"Whatever's to be done, min?</p>
+  <p>Why zome'hat is a-vell inside</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' chimney drough the tun, min."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Then out they scamper'd all, vull run,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' out cried Tom, "I think</p>
+  <p>The grind&egrave;n-stwone is up on tun,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor I can zee the wink.</p>
+  <p>This is some kindness that the vo'k</p>
+    <p class="i2">At Woodley have a-done, min;</p>
+  <p>I wish I had em here, I'd poke</p>
+    <p class="i2">Their numskulls down the tun, min."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Then off he zet, an' come so quick</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a lamplighter, an' brote</p>
+  <p>The little ladder in vrom rick,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To clear the chimney's droat.</p>
+  <p>While I, a-chuckl&egrave;n at the joke,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-slided down, to run, min,</p>
+  <p>To hidelock, had a-left the vo'k</p>
+    <p class="i2">As bad as na'r a tun, min.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page111" id="page111"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;111]</span>
+
+<h4>GRAMMER'S SHOES.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>I do seem to zee Grammer as she did use</p>
+  <p>Vor to show us, at Chris'mas, her wedd&egrave;n shoes,</p>
+  <p>An' her flat spread&egrave;n bonnet so big an' roun'</p>
+  <p>As a girt pewter dish a-turn'd upside down;</p>
+        <p class="i6">When we all did draw near</p>
+        <p class="i6">In a cluster to hear</p>
+  <p>O' the merry wold soul how she did use</p>
+  <p>To walk an' to dance wi' her high-heel shoes.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>She'd a gown wi' girt flowers lik' hollyhocks,</p>
+  <p>An' zome stock&egrave;ns o' gramfer's a-knit w&igrave;' clocks,</p>
+  <p>An' a token she kept under lock an' key,&mdash;</p>
+  <p>A small lock ov his he&auml;ir off avore 't wer grey.</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' her eyes wer red,</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' she shook her head,</p>
+  <p>When we'd all a-look'd at it, an' she did use</p>
+  <p>To lock it away wi' her wedd&egrave;n shoes.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>She could tell us such te&auml;les about heavy snows,</p>
+  <p>An' o' ra&iuml;ns an' o' floods when the waters rose</p>
+  <p>All up into the housen, an' carr'd awoy</p>
+  <p>All the bridge wi' a man an' his little bwoy;</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' o' vog an' vrost,</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' o' vo'k a-lost,</p>
+  <p>An' o' pe&auml;rties at Chris'mas, when she did use</p>
+  <p>Vor to walk hwome wi' gramfer in high-heel shoes.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ev'ry Chris'mas she lik'd vor the bells to ring,</p>
+  <p>An' to have in the zingers to he&auml;r em zing</p>
+  <p>The wold carols she he&auml;rd many years a-gone,</p>
+  <p>While she warm'd em zome cider avore the bron';</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' she'd look an' smile</p>
+        <p class="i6">At our danc&egrave;n, while</p>
+  <p>She did tell how her friends now a-gone did use</p>
+  <p>To reely wi' her in their high-heel shoes.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page112" id="page112"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;112]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ah! an' how she did like vor to deck wi' red</p>
+  <p>Holly-berries the window an' wold clock's head,</p>
+  <p>An' the clavy wi' boughs o' some bright green leaves,</p>
+  <p>An' to me&auml;ke twoast an' e&auml;le upon Chris'mas eves;</p>
+        <p class="i6">But she's now, drough gre&auml;ce,</p>
+        <p class="i6">In a better ple&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p>Though we'll never vorget her, poor soul, nor lose</p>
+  <p>Gramfer's token ov he&auml;ir, nor her wedd&egrave;n shoes.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p112" id="p112"></a>
+
+<h4>ZUNSHEEN IN THE WINTER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The winter clouds, that long did hide</p>
+  <p>The zun, be all a-blown azide,</p>
+  <p>An' in the light, noo longer dim,</p>
+  <p>Do sheen the ivy that do clim'</p>
+  <p>The tower's zide an' elem's stim;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' holmen bushes, in between</p>
+    <p class="i2">The leafless thorns, be bright an' green</p>
+      <p class="i4">To zunsheen o' the winter.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The trees, that yesterday did twist</p>
+  <p>In wind's a-drev&egrave;n ra&iuml;n an' mist,</p>
+  <p>Do now drow she&auml;des out, long an' still;</p>
+  <p>But roar&egrave;n watervals do vill</p>
+  <p>Their whirl&egrave;n pools below the hill,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Where, wi' her pa&iuml;l upon the stile,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-gwa&iuml;n a-milk&egrave;n Je&auml;ne do smile</p>
+      <p class="i4">To zunsheen o' the winter.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The birds do she&auml;ke, wi' pla&yuml;some skips,</p>
+  <p>The ra&iuml;n-drops off the bushes' tips,</p>
+  <p>A-chirrip&egrave;n wi' merry sound;</p>
+  <p>While over all the grassy ground</p>
+  <p>The wind's a-whirl&egrave;n round an' round</p>
+    <p class="i2">So softly, that the day do seem</p>
+    <p class="i2">Mwore lik' a zummer in a dream,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Than zunsheen in the winter.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page113" id="page113"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;113]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The wold vo'k now do meet abrode,</p>
+  <p>An' tell o' winter's they've a-know'd;</p>
+  <p>When snow wer long above the groun',</p>
+  <p>Or floods broke all the bridges down,</p>
+  <p>Or wind unheal'd a half the town,&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">The te&auml;les o' wold times long a-gone,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But ever dear to think upon,</p>
+      <p class="i4">The zunsheen o' their winter.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Vor now to them noo brook can run,</p>
+  <p>Noo hill can fe&auml;ce the winter zun,</p>
+  <p>Noo leaves can vall, noo flow'rs can fe&auml;de,</p>
+  <p>Noo snow can hide the grasses ble&auml;de,</p>
+  <p>Noo vrost can whiten in the she&auml;de,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Noo day can come, but what do bring</p>
+    <p class="i2">To mind age&auml;n their early spring,</p>
+      <p class="i4">That's now a-turn'd to winter.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p113" id="p113"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WEEPEN LEADY.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When, le&auml;te o' nights, above the green</p>
+  <p>By thik wold house, the moon do sheen,</p>
+  <p>A le&auml;dy there, a-hang&egrave;n low</p>
+  <p>Her head, 's a-walk&egrave;n to an' fro</p>
+  <p>In robes so white's the driven snow,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' woone e&auml;rm down, while woone do rest</p>
+    <p class="i2">All lily-white athirt the breast</p>
+      <p class="i4">O' thik poor weep&egrave;n le&auml;dy.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The whirl&egrave;n wind an' whis'l&egrave;n squall</p>
+  <p>Do she&auml;ke the ivy by the wall,</p>
+  <p>An' me&auml;ke the ply&egrave;n tree-tops rock,</p>
+  <p>But never ruffle her white frock;</p>
+  <p>An' slamm&egrave;n door an' rattl&egrave;n lock,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That in thik empty house do sound,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do never seem to me&auml;ke look round</p>
+      <p class="i4">Thik ever downcast le&auml;dy.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page114" id="page114"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;114]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>A le&auml;dy, as the te&auml;le do goo,</p>
+  <p>That woonce liv'd there, an' lov'd too true,</p>
+  <p>Wer by a young man cast azide.</p>
+  <p>A mother sad, but not a bride;</p>
+  <p>An' then her father, in his pride</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' anger, offer'd woone o' two</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vull bitter things to undergoo</p>
+      <p class="i4">To thik poor weep&egrave;n le&auml;dy:</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>That she herzelf should le&auml;ve his door,</p>
+  <p>To darken it age&auml;n noo mwore;</p>
+  <p>Or that her little pla&yuml;some chile,</p>
+  <p>A-zent away a thousand mile,</p>
+  <p>Should never meet her eyes to smile</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' pla&yuml; age&auml;n; till she, in she&auml;me,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Should die an' le&auml;ve a tarnish'd ne&auml;me,</p>
+      <p class="i4">A sad vorse&auml;ken le&auml;dy.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>"Let me be lost," she cried, "the while</p>
+  <p>I do but know vor my poor chile;"</p>
+  <p>An' left the hwome ov all her pride,</p>
+  <p>To wander drough the worold wide,</p>
+  <p>Wi' grief that vew but she ha' tried:</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' lik' a flow'r a blow ha' broke,</p>
+    <p class="i2">She wither'd wi' the deadly stroke,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' died a weep&egrave;n le&auml;dy.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' she do keep a-com&egrave;n on</p>
+  <p>To zee her father dead an' gone,</p>
+  <p>As if her soul could have noo rest</p>
+  <p>Avore her te&auml;ry che&auml;k's a-prest</p>
+  <p>By his vorgiv&egrave;n kiss. Zoo blest</p>
+    <p class="i2">Be they that can but live in love,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' vind a ple&auml;ce o' rest above</p>
+      <p class="i4">Unlik' the weep&egrave;n le&auml;dy.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page115" id="page115"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;115]</span>
+
+<h4>THE HAPPY DAYS WHEN I WER YOUNG.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In happy days when I wer young,</p>
+<p>An' had noo ho, an' laugh'd an' zung,</p>
+<p>The ma&iuml;d wer merry by her cow,</p>
+<p>An' men wer merry wi' the plough;</p>
+<p>But never talk'd, at hwome or out</p>
+<p>O' doors, o' what's a-talk'd about</p>
+<p>By many now,&mdash;that to despise</p>
+<p>The laws o' God an' man is wise.</p>
+<p>Wi' da&iuml;ly health, an' da&iuml;ly bread,</p>
+<p>An' thatch above their shelter'd head,</p>
+<p>They velt noo fear, an' had noo spite,</p>
+<p>To keep their eyes awake at night;</p>
+<p>But slept in peace wi' God on high</p>
+<p>An' man below, an' fit to die.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O' grassy me&auml;d an' woody nook,</p>
+<p>An' waters o' the wind&egrave;n brook,</p>
+<p>That sprung below the vu'st dark sky</p>
+<p>That ra&iuml;n'd, to run till seas be dry;</p>
+<p>An' hills a-stann&egrave;n on while all</p>
+<p>The works o' man do rise an' vall;</p>
+<p>An' trees the toddl&egrave;n child do vind</p>
+<p>At vu'st, an' le&auml;ve at last behind;</p>
+<p>I wish that you could now unvwold</p>
+<p>The peace an' j&auml;y o' times o' wold;</p>
+<p>An' tell, when death do still my tongue,</p>
+<p>O' happy days when I wer young.</p>
+<p>Vrom where wer all this venom brought,</p>
+<p>To kill our hope an' ta&iuml;nt our thought?</p>
+<p>Clear brook! thy water coulden bring</p>
+<p>Such venom vrom thy rocky spring;</p>
+<p>Nor could it come in zummer blights,</p>
+<p>Or re&auml;v&egrave;n storms o' winter nights,</p><a name="page116" id="page116"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;116]</span>
+<p>Or in the cloud an' viry stroke</p>
+<p>O' thunder that do split the woak.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O valley dear! I wish that I</p>
+<p>'D a-liv'd in former times, to die</p>
+<p>Wi' all the happy souls that trod</p>
+<p>Thy turf in pe&auml;ce, an' died to God;</p>
+<p>Or gone wi' them that laugh'd an' zung</p>
+<p>In happy days when I wer young!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p116" id="p116"></a>
+
+<h4>IN THE STILLNESS O' THE NIGHT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ov all the housen o' the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+    <p class="i2">There's woone where I do like to call</p>
+    <p class="i2">By day or night the best ov all,</p>
+  <p>To zee my Fanny's smil&egrave;n fe&auml;ce;</p>
+  <p>An' there the ste&auml;tely trees do grow,</p>
+  <p>A-rock&egrave;n as the win' do blow,</p>
+  <p>While she do sweetly sleep below,</p>
+    <p class="i2">In the stillness o' the night.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' there, at even&egrave;n, I do goo</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-hopp&egrave;n over ge&auml;tes an' bars,</p>
+    <p class="i2">By twinkl&egrave;n light o' winter stars,</p>
+  <p>When snow do clumper to my shoe;</p>
+  <p>An' zometimes we do slyly catch</p>
+  <p>A chat an hour upon the stratch,</p>
+  <p>An' pe&auml;rt wi' whispers at the hatch</p>
+    <p class="i2">In the stillness o' the night.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' zometimes she do goo to zome</p>
+    <p class="i2">Young na&iuml;ghbours' housen down the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' I do get a clue to tre&auml;ce</p>
+  <p>Her out, an' goo to zee her hwome;</p>
+  <p>An' I do wish a vield a mile,</p>
+  <p>As she do sweetly chat an' smile</p>
+  <p>Along the drove, or at the stile,</p>
+    <p class="i2">In the stillness o' the night.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page117" id="page117"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;117]</span>
+
+<h4>THE SETTLE AN' THE GIRT WOOD VIRE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ah! na&iuml;ghbour John, since I an' you</p>
+  <p>Wer youngsters, ev'ry thing is new.</p>
+  <p>My father's vires wer all o' logs</p>
+  <p>O' cleft-wood, down upon the dogs</p>
+  <p>Below our clavy, high, an' brode</p>
+  <p>Enough to te&auml;ke a cart an' lwoad,</p>
+  <p>Where big an' little all zot down</p>
+  <p>At bwoth zides, an' bevore, all roun'.</p>
+  <p>An' when I zot among em, I</p>
+  <p>Could zee all up age&auml;n the sky</p>
+  <p>Drough chimney, where our vo'k did hitch</p>
+  <p>The zalt-box an' the be&auml;con-vlitch,</p>
+  <p>An' watch the smoke on out o' vier,</p>
+  <p>All up an' out o' tun, an' higher.</p>
+  <p>An' there wer be&auml;con up on rack,</p>
+  <p>An' ple&auml;tes an' dishes on the tack;</p>
+  <p>An' roun' the walls wer he&auml;rbs a-stowed</p>
+  <p>In pe&auml;pern bags, an' blathers blowed.</p>
+  <p>An' just above the clavy-bwoard</p>
+  <p>Wer father's spurs, an' gun, an' sword;</p>
+  <p>An' there wer then, our girtest pride,</p>
+  <p>The settle by the vier zide.</p>
+    <p class="i2">Ah! gi'e me, if I wer a squier,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The settle an' the girt wood vier.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>But they've a-wall'd up now wi' bricks</p>
+  <p>The vier ple&auml;ce vor dogs an' sticks,</p>
+  <p>An' only left a little hole</p>
+  <p>To te&auml;ke a little gre&auml;te o' coal,</p>
+  <p>So small that only twos or drees</p>
+  <p>Can jist push in an' warm their knees.</p>
+  <p>An' then the carpets they do use,</p>
+  <p>B&#275;n't fit to tread wi' ouer shoes;</p><a name="page118" id="page118"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;118]</span>
+  <p>An' chairs an' couches be so neat,</p>
+  <p>You mussen te&auml;ke em vor a seat:</p>
+  <p>They be so fine, that vo'k mus' ple&auml;ce</p>
+  <p>All over em an' outer ce&auml;se,</p>
+  <p>An' then the cover, when 'tis on,</p>
+  <p>Is still too fine to loll upon.</p>
+    <p class="i2">Ah! gi'e me, if I wer a squier,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The settle an' the girt wood vier.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Carpets, indeed! You coulden hurt</p>
+  <p>The stwone-vloor wi' a little dirt;</p>
+  <p>Vor what wer brought in doors by men,</p>
+  <p>The women soon mopp'd out age&auml;n.</p>
+  <p>Zoo we did come vrom muck an' mire,</p>
+  <p>An' walk in stra&iuml;ght avore the vier;</p>
+  <p>But now, a man's a-kept at door</p>
+  <p>At work a pirty while, avore</p>
+  <p>He's scre&auml;p'd an' rubb'd, an' cle&auml;n and fit</p>
+  <p>To goo in where his wife do zit.</p>
+  <p>An' then if he should have a whiff</p>
+  <p>In there, 'twould only breed a miff:</p>
+  <p>He c&#257;nt smoke there, vor smoke woon't goo</p>
+  <p>'Ithin the footy little flue.</p>
+    <p class="i2">Ah! gi'e me, if I wer a squier,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The settle an' the girt wood vier.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p118" id="p118"></a>
+
+<h4>THE CARTER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>O, I be a carter, wi' my whip</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-smack&egrave;n loud, as by my zide,</p>
+  <p>Up over hill, an' down the dip,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The heavy lwoad do slowly ride.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' I do haul in all the crops,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' I do bring in vuzz vrom down;</p>
+  <p>An' I do goo vor wood to copse,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' car the corn an' straw to town.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page119" id="page119"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;119]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' I do goo vor lime, an' bring</p>
+    <p class="i2">Hwome cider wi' my sleek-he&auml;ir'd team,</p>
+  <p>An' smack my limber whip an' zing,</p>
+    <p class="i2">While all their bells do ga&iuml;ly cheeme.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' I do always know the ple&auml;ce</p>
+    <p class="i2">To gi'e the hosses breath, or drug;</p>
+  <p>An' ev'ry hoss do know my fe&auml;ce,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' mind my '<i>mether ho</i>! an' <i>whug</i>!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' merry ha&yuml;-me&auml;kers do ride</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vrom vield in zummer wi' their prongs,</p>
+  <p>In my blue waggon, zide by zide</p>
+    <p class="i2">Upon the re&auml;ves, a-zing&egrave;n zongs.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when the vrost do catch the stream,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' oves wi' icicles be hung,</p>
+  <p>My pant&egrave;n hosses' breath do steam</p>
+    <p class="i2">In white-grass'd vields, a-haul&egrave;n dung.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' mine's the waggon fit vor lwoads,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' mine be lwoads to cut a rout;</p>
+  <p>An' mine's a team, in routy rwoads,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To pull a lwoaded waggon out.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>A zull is noth&egrave;n when do come</p>
+    <p class="i2">Behind their lags; an' they do te&auml;ke</p>
+  <p>A roller as they would a drum,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' harrow as they would a re&auml;ke.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>O! I be a carter, wi' my whip</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-smack&egrave;n loud, as by my zide,</p>
+  <p>Up over hill, an' down the dip,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The heavy lwoad do slowly ride.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page120" id="page120"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;120]</span>
+
+<h4>CHRIS'MAS INVITATION.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come down to-morrow night; an' mind,</p>
+<p>Don't le&auml;ve thy fiddle-bag behind;</p>
+<p>We'll she&auml;ke a lag, an' drink a cup</p>
+<p>O' e&auml;le, to keep wold Chris'mas up.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' let thy sister te&auml;ke thy e&auml;rm,</p>
+<p>The walk won't do her any harm;</p>
+<p>There's noo dirt now to spweil her frock,</p>
+<p>The ground's a-vroze so hard's a rock.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>You won't meet any stranger's fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>But only na&iuml;ghbours o' the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' Stowe, an' Combe; an' two or dree</p>
+<p>Vrom uncle's up at Rookery.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' thou wu'lt vind a rwosy fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' pe&auml;ir ov eyes so black as sloos,</p>
+<p>The prettiest woones in all the ple&auml;ce,&mdash;</p>
+<p>I'm sure I needen tell thee whose.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>We got a back-bran', dree girt logs</p>
+<p>So much as dree ov us can car;</p>
+<p>We'll put em up athirt the dogs,</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;ke a vier to the bar.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' ev'ry woone shall tell his te&auml;le,</p>
+<p>An' ev'ry woone shall zing his zong,</p>
+<p>An' ev'ry woone wull drink his e&auml;le</p>
+<p>To love an' frien'ship all night long.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>We'll snap the tongs, we'll have a ball,</p>
+<p>We'll she&auml;ke the house, we'll lift the ruf,</p>
+<p>We'll romp an' me&auml;ke the ma&iuml;dens squall,</p>
+<p>A catch&egrave;n o'm at blind-man's buff.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page121" id="page121"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;121]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo come to-morrow night; an' mind,</p>
+<p>Don't le&auml;ve thy fiddle-bag behind;</p>
+<p>We'll she&auml;ke a lag, an' drink a cup</p>
+<p>O' e&auml;le, to keep wold Chris'mas up.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p121" id="p121"></a>
+
+<h4>KEEPEN UP O' CHRIS'MAS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' zoo you didden come athirt,</p>
+  <p>To have zome fun last night: how wer't?</p>
+  <p>Vor we'd a-work'd wi' all our might</p>
+  <p>To scour the iron things up bright,</p>
+  <p>An' brush'd an' scrubb'd the house all drough;</p>
+  <p>An' brought in vor a brand, a plock</p>
+  <p>O' wood so big's an upp&egrave;n-stock,</p>
+  <p>An' hung a bough o' misseltoo,</p>
+  <p>An' ax'd a merry friend or two,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To keep&egrave;n up o' Chris'mas.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' there wer wold an' young; an' Bill,</p>
+  <p>Soon after dark, stalk'd up vrom mill.</p>
+  <p>An' when he wer a-com&egrave;n near,</p>
+  <p>He whissled loud vor me to hear;</p>
+  <p>Then roun' my head my frock I roll'd,</p>
+  <p>An' stood in orcha'd like a post,</p>
+  <p>To me&auml;ke en think I wer a ghost.</p>
+  <p>But he wer up to't, an' did scwold</p>
+  <p>To vind me stann&egrave;n in the cwold,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A keep&egrave;n up o' Chris'mas.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>We pla&yuml;'d at forfeits, an' we spun</p>
+  <p>The trencher roun', an' me&auml;de such fun!</p>
+  <p>An' had a ge&auml;me o' dree-ce&auml;rd loo,</p>
+  <p>An' then begun to hunt the shoe.</p>
+  <p>An' all the wold vo'k zitt&egrave;n near,</p>
+  <p>A-chatt&egrave;n roun' the vier ple&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p>Did smile in woone another's fe&auml;ce.</p><a name="page122" id="page122"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;122]</span>
+  <p>An' she&auml;ke right hands wi' hearty cheer,</p>
+  <p>An' let their left hands spill their beer,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A keep&egrave;n up o' Chris'mas.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p122" id="p122"></a>
+
+<h4>ZITTEN OUT THE WOLD YEAR.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Why, ra&iuml;n or sheen, or blow or snow,</p>
+    <p class="i2">I zaid, if I could stand so's,</p>
+  <p>I'd come, vor all a friend or foe,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To she&auml;ke ye by the hand, so's;</p>
+  <p>An' spend, wi' kinsvo'k near an' dear,</p>
+  <p>A happy even&egrave;n, woonce a year,</p>
+        <p class="i6">A-zot wi' me'th</p>
+        <p class="i6">Avore the he'th</p>
+    <p class="i2">To zee the new year in, so's.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>There's Jim an' Tom, a-grown the size</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' men, girt lusty chaps, so's,</p>
+  <p>An' Fanny wi' her sloo-black eyes,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Her mother's very dap's, so's;</p>
+  <p>An' little Bill, so brown's a nut,</p>
+  <p>An' Poll a giggl&egrave;n little slut,</p>
+        <p class="i6">I hope will shoot</p>
+        <p class="i6">Another voot</p>
+    <p class="i2">The year that's com&egrave;n in, so's.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' there, upon his mother's knee,</p>
+    <p class="i2">So pe&auml;rt do look about, so's,</p>
+  <p>The little woone ov all, to zee</p>
+    <p class="i2">His vu'st wold year goo out, so's</p>
+  <p>An' zoo mid God bless all o's still,</p>
+  <p>Gwa&iuml;n up or down along the hill,</p>
+        <p class="i6">To meet in glee</p>
+        <p class="i6">Age&auml;n to zee</p>
+    <p class="i2">A happy new year in, so's.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page123" id="page123"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;123]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The wold clock's han' do softly steal</p>
+    <p class="i2">Up roun' the year's last hour, so's;</p>
+  <p>Zoo let the han'-bells ring a peal,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Lik' them a-hung in tow'r, so's.</p>
+  <p>Here, here be two vor Tom, an' two</p>
+  <p>Vor Fanny, an' a pe&auml;ir vor you;</p>
+        <p class="i6">We'll me&auml;ke em swing,</p>
+        <p class="i6">An' me&auml;ke em ring,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The merry new year in, so's.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Tom, mind your time there; you be wrong.</p>
+    <p class="i2">Come, let your bells all sound, so's:</p>
+  <p>A little clwoser, Poll; ding, dong!</p>
+    <p class="i2">There, now 'tis right all round, so's.</p>
+  <p>The clock's a-strik&egrave;n twelve, d'ye hear?</p>
+  <p>Ting, ting, ding, dong! Farewell, wold year!</p>
+        <p class="i6">'Tis gone, 'tis gone!&mdash;</p>
+        <p class="i6">Goo on, goo on,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' ring the new woone in, so's!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p123" id="p123"></a>
+
+<h4>WOAK WER GOOD ENOUGH WOONCE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ees: now mahogany's the goo,</p>
+<p>An' good wold English woak won't do.</p>
+<p>I wish vo'k always mid avvword</p>
+<p>Hot meals upon a woak&egrave;n bwoard,</p>
+<p>As good as thik that took my cup</p>
+<p>An' trencher all my grow&egrave;n up.</p>
+<p>Ah! I do mind en in the hall,</p>
+<p>A-reach&egrave;n all along the wall,</p>
+<p>Wi' us at father's end, while tother</p>
+<p>Did te&auml;ke the ma&iuml;dens wi' their mother;</p>
+<p>An' while the ris&egrave;n steam did spread</p>
+<p>In curl&egrave;n clouds up over head,</p>
+<p>Our mouths did wag, an' tongues did run,</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke the ma&iuml;dens laugh o' fun.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page124" id="page124"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;124]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A woaken bedstead, black an' bright,</p>
+<p>Did te&auml;ke my weary bwones at night,</p>
+<p>Where I could stratch an' roll about</p>
+<p>Wi' little fear o' vall&egrave;n out;</p>
+<p>An' up above my head a pe&auml;ir</p>
+<p>Ov ugly heads a-carv'd did ste&auml;re,</p>
+<p>An' grin avore a bright vull moon</p>
+<p>A'most enough to frighten woone.</p>
+<p>An' then we had, vor cwoats an' frocks,</p>
+<p>Woak cwoffers wi' their rusty locks</p>
+<p>An' ne&auml;mes in na&iuml;ls, a-left behind</p>
+<p>By kinsvo'k dead an' out o' mind;</p>
+<p>Zoo we did get on well enough</p>
+<p>Wi' things a-me&auml;de ov English stuff.</p>
+<p>But then, you know, a woaken stick</p>
+<p>Wer cheap, vor woaken trees wer thick.</p>
+<p>When poor wold Gramfer Green wer young,</p>
+<p>He zaid a squirrel mid a-sprung</p>
+<p>Along the dell, vrom tree to tree,</p>
+<p>Vrom Woodcomb all the way to Lea;</p>
+<p>An' woak wer all vo'k did avvword,</p>
+<p>Avore his time, vor bed or bwoard.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p124" id="p124"></a>
+
+<h4>LULLABY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The rook's nest do rock on the tree-top</p>
+  <p>Where vew foes can stand;</p>
+  <p>The martin's is high, an' is deep</p>
+  <p>In the steep cliff o' zand.</p>
+  <p>But thou, love, a-sleep&egrave;n where vootsteps</p>
+  <p>Mid come to thy bed,</p>
+  <p>Hast father an' mother to watch thee</p>
+  <p>An' shelter thy head.</p>
+         <p class="i8">Lullaby, Lilybrow.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Lie asleep;</p>
+         <p class="i8">Blest be thy rest.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page125" id="page125"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;125]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' zome birds do keep under ruff&egrave;n</p>
+  <p>Their young vrom the storm,</p>
+  <p>An' zome wi' nest-hood&egrave;ns o' moss</p>
+  <p>And o' wool, do lie warm.</p>
+  <p>An' we wull look well to the houseruf</p>
+  <p>That o'er thee mid le&auml;k,</p>
+  <p>An' the blast that mid be&auml;t on thy winder</p>
+  <p>Shall not smite thy che&auml;k.</p>
+         <p class="i8">Lullaby, Lilibrow.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Lie asleep;</p>
+         <p class="i8">Blest be thy rest.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p125" id="p125"></a>
+
+<h4>MEARY-ANN'S CHILD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Meary-Ann wer alwone wi' her be&auml;by in e&auml;rms,</p>
+    <p class="i2">In her house wi' the trees over head,</p>
+  <p>Vor her husban' wer out in the night an' the storms,</p>
+    <p class="i2">In his business a-tweil&egrave;n vor bread;</p>
+  <p>An' she, as the wind in the elems did roar,</p>
+  <p>Did grievy vor Robert all night out o' door.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' her kinsvo'k an' na&iuml;'bours did zay ov her chile,</p>
+      <p class="i4">(Under the high elem tree),</p>
+  <p>That a prettier never did babble or smile</p>
+    <p class="i2">Up o' top ov a proud mother's knee;</p>
+  <p>An' his mother did toss en, an' kiss en, an' call</p>
+  <p>En her darl&egrave;n, an' life, an' her hope, an' her all.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>But she vound in the even&egrave;n the chile werden well,</p>
+      <p class="i4">(Under the dark elem tree),</p>
+  <p>An' she thought she could gi'e all the worold to tell,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor a truth what his a&iuml;l&egrave;n mid be;</p>
+  <p>An' she thought o'en last in her pra&yuml;ers at night,</p>
+  <p>An' she look'd at en last as she put out the light.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' she vound en grow wo'se in the dead o' the night,</p>
+      <p class="i4">(Under the dark elem tree),</p><a name="page126" id="page126"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;126]</span>
+  <p>An' she press'd en age&auml;n her warm bosom so tight,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' she rock'd en so sorrowfully;</p>
+  <p>An' there laid a-nestl&egrave;n the poor little bwoy,</p>
+  <p>Till his struggles grew weak, an' his cries died awoy.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' the moon wer a-sheen&egrave;n down into the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+      <p class="i4">(Under the dark elem tree),</p>
+  <p>An' his mother could zee that his lips an' his fe&auml;ce</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wer so white as cle&auml;n axen could be;</p>
+  <p>An' her tongue wer a-tied an' her still heart did zwell,</p>
+  <p>Till her senses come back wi' the vu'st tear that vell.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Never mwore can she veel his warm fe&auml;ce in her breast,</p>
+      <p class="i4">(Under the green elem tree),</p>
+  <p>Vor his eyes be a-shut, an' his hands be at rest,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' he's now vrom his pa&iuml;n a-zet free;</p>
+  <p>Vor his soul, we do know, is to heaven a-vled,</p>
+  <p>Where noo pa&iuml;n is a-known, an' noo tears be a-shed.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+   <div class="figcenter"><img src="images/wavy_rule2-120.png" width="120" height="7" alt="wavy rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+<a name="p126" id="p126"></a>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<h3>FATHER COME HWOME.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>John, Wife, an' Child.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h5>CHILD.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O mother, mother! be the te&auml;ties done?</p>
+<p>Here's father now a-com&egrave;n down the track,</p>
+<p>Hes got his nitch o' wood upon his back,</p>
+<p>An' such a spe&auml;ker in en! I'll be bound,</p>
+<p>He's long enough to reach vrom ground</p>
+<p>Up to the top ov ouer tun;</p>
+<p>'Tis jist the very thing vor Jack an' I</p>
+<p>To goo a-colepecks&egrave;n wi' by an' by.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page127" id="page127"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;127]</span>
+
+<h5>WIFE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The te&auml;ties must be ready pretty nigh;</p>
+<p>Do te&auml;ke woone up upon the fork' an' try.</p>
+<p>The ce&auml;ke upon the vier, too, 's a-burn&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>I be afe&auml;rd: do run an' zee, an' turn en.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, mother! here I be woonce mwore, at hwome.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>WIFE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! I be very glad you be a-come.</p>
+<p>You be a-tired an' cwold enough, I s'pose;</p>
+<p>Zit down an' rest your bwones, an' warm your nose.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why I be nippy: what is there to eat?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>WIFE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Your supper's nearly ready. I've a got</p>
+<p>Some te&auml;ties here a-do&egrave;n in the pot;</p>
+<p>I wish wi' all my heart I had some meat.</p>
+<p>I got a little ce&auml;ke too, here, a-be&auml;ken o'n</p>
+<p>Upon the vier. 'Tis done by this time though.</p>
+<p>He's nice an' moist; vor when I wer a-me&auml;ken o'n</p>
+<p>I stuck some bits ov apple in the dough.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>CHILD.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, father; what d'ye think? The pig got out</p>
+<p>This morn&egrave;n; an' avore we zeed or he&auml;rd en,</p>
+<p>He run about, an' got out into ge&auml;rden,</p>
+<p>An' routed up the groun' zoo wi' his snout!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now only think o' that! You must contrive</p>
+<p>To keep en in, or else he'll never thrive.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page128" id="page128"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;128]</span>
+
+<h5>CHILD.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' father, what d'ye think? I voun' to-day</p>
+<p>The nest where thik wold hen ov our's do lay:</p>
+<p>'Twer out in orcha'd hedge, an' had vive aggs.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>WIFE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Lo'k there: how wet you got your veet an' lags!</p>
+<p>How did ye get in such a pickle, Jahn?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I broke my hoss, an' been a-fwo'ced to stan'</p>
+<p>All's day in mud an' water vor to dig,</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;de myzelf so wetshod as a pig.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>CHILD.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Father, te&auml;ke off your shoes, then come, and I</p>
+<p>Will bring your wold woones vor ye, nice an' dry.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>WIFE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' have ye got much hedg&egrave;n mwore to do?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Enough to last vor dree weeks mwore or zoo.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>WIFE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when y'ave done the job you be about,</p>
+<p>D'ye think you'll have another vound ye out?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O ees, there'll be some mwore: vor after that,</p>
+<p>I got a job o' trench&egrave;n to goo at;</p>
+<p>An' then zome trees to shroud, an' wood to vell,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Zoo I do hope to rub on pretty well</p>
+<p>Till zummer time; an' then I be to cut</p>
+<p>The wood an' do the trench&egrave;n by the tut.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>CHILD.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' nex' week, father, I'm a-gwa&iuml;n to goo</p>
+<p>A-pick&egrave;n stwones, d'ye know, vor Farmer True.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page129" id="page129"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;129]</span>
+
+<h5>WIFE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' little Jack, you know, 's a-gwa&iuml;n to e&auml;rn</p>
+<p>A penny too, a-keep&egrave;n birds off corn.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O brave! What wages do 'e me&auml;n to gi'e?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>WIFE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She dreppence vor a day, an' twopence he.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, Polly; thou must work a little spracker</p>
+<p>When thou bist out, or else thou wu'ten pick</p>
+<p>A dungpot lwoad o' stwones up very quick.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>CHILD.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! yes I shall. But Jack do want a clacker:</p>
+<p>An' father, wull ye te&auml;ke an' cut</p>
+<p>A stick or two to me&auml;ke his hut.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>You wench! why you be always up a-bagg&egrave;n.</p>
+<p>I be too tired now to-night, I'm sure,</p>
+  <p class="i2">To zet a-do&egrave;n any mwore:</p>
+<p>Zoo I shall goo up out o' the way o' the waggon.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+   <div class="figcenter"><img src="images/wavy_rule2-120.png" width="120" height="7" alt="wavy rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+<a name="p129" id="p129"></a>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<h3>A GHOST.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>Jem an' Dick.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h5>JEM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>This is a darkish even&egrave;n; b'ye a-fe&auml;rd</p>
+<p>O' zights? The&auml;se le&auml;ne's a-haunted, I've a he&auml;rd.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page130" id="page130"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;130]</span>
+
+<h5>DICK.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No, I be'nt much a-fe&auml;r'd. If vo'k don't strive</p>
+<p>To over-reach me while they be alive,</p>
+<p>I don't much think the dead wull ha' the will</p>
+<p>To come back here to do me any ill.</p>
+<p>An' I've a-been about all night, d'ye know,</p>
+<p>Vrom candle-light&egrave;n till the cock did crow;</p>
+<p>But never met wi' noth&egrave;n bad enough</p>
+<p>To be much wo'se than what I be myzuf;</p>
+<p>Though I, lik' others, have a-he&auml;rd vo'k zay</p>
+<p>The girt house is a-haunted, night an' day.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JEM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye; I do mind woone winter 'twer a-zaid</p>
+<p>The farmer's vo'k could hardly sleep a-bed,</p>
+<p>They he&auml;rd at night such scuff&egrave;ns an' such jump&egrave;ns,</p>
+<p>Such ugly na&iuml;ses an' such rottl&egrave;n thump&egrave;ns.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>DICK.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, I do mind I he&auml;rd his son, young Sammy,</p>
+<p>Tell how the chairs did dance an' doors did slammy;</p>
+<p>He stood to it&mdash;though zome vo'k woulden heed en&mdash;</p>
+<p>He didden only hear the ghost, but zeed en;</p>
+<p>An', hang me! if I han't a'most a-shook,</p>
+<p>To hear en tell what ugly she&auml;pes it took.</p>
+<p>Did zometimes come vull six veet high, or higher,</p>
+<p>In white, he zaid, wi' eyes lik' coals o' vier;</p>
+<p>An' zometimes, wi' a fe&auml;ce so pe&auml;le as milk,</p>
+<p>A smileless le&auml;dy, all a-deck'd in silk.</p>
+<p>His he&auml;ir, he zaid, did use to stand upright,</p>
+<p>So stiff's a bunch o' rushes, wi' his fright.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JEM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then you know that zome'hat is a-zeed</p>
+<p>Down there in le&auml;ne, an' over in the me&auml;d,</p>
+<p>A-com&egrave;n zometimes lik' a slink&egrave;n hound,</p>
+<p>Or roll&egrave;n lik' a vleece along the ground.</p><a name="page131" id="page131"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;131]</span>
+<p>An' woonce, when gramfer wi' his wold grey me&auml;re</p>
+<p>Wer rid&egrave;n down the le&auml;ne vrom Shroton fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>It roll'd so big's a pack ov wool across</p>
+<p>The road just under en, an' le&auml;m'd his hoss.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>DICK.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye; did ye ever hear&mdash;vo'k zaid 'twer true&mdash;</p>
+<p>O' what bevell Jack Hine zome years agoo?</p>
+<p>Woone vrosty night, d'ye know, at Chris'mas tide,</p>
+<p>Jack, an' another chap or two bezide,</p>
+<p>'D a-been out, zomewhere up at tother end</p>
+<p>O' parish, to a na&iuml;ghbour's house to spend</p>
+<p>A merry hour, an' mid a-took a cup</p>
+<p>Or two o' e&auml;le a-keep&egrave;n Chris'mas up;</p>
+<p>Zoo I do lot 'twer le&auml;te avore the pe&auml;rty</p>
+<p>'D a-burnt their bron out; I do lot, avore</p>
+<p>They thought o' turn&egrave;n out o' door</p>
+<p>'Twer morn&egrave;n, vor their friendship then wer hearty.</p>
+<p>Well; clwose age&auml;n the vootpath that do le&auml;d</p>
+<p>Vrom higher parish over withy-me&auml;d,</p>
+<p>There's still a hollow, you do know: they tried there,</p>
+<p>In former times, to me&auml;ke a cattle-pit,</p>
+<p>But gie'd it up, because they coulden get</p>
+<p>The water any time to bide there.</p>
+<p>Zoo when the merry fellows got</p>
+<p>Just overright the&auml;se lwonesome spot,</p>
+<p>Jack zeed a girt big house-dog wi' a collar,</p>
+<p>A-stann&egrave;n down in thik there hollor.</p>
+<p>Lo'k there, he za&iuml;d, there's zome girt dog a-prowl&egrave;n:</p>
+<p>I'll just goo down an' gi'e'n a goodish lick</p>
+<p>Or two wi' the&auml;se here groun'-ash stick,</p>
+<p>An' zend the shaggy rascal hwome a-howl&egrave;n.</p>
+<p>Zoo there he run, an' gi'ed en a good whack</p>
+<p>Wi' his girt ashen stick a-thirt his back;</p>
+<p>An', all at woonce, his stick split right all down</p>
+<p>In vower pieces; an' the pieces vled</p><a name="page132" id="page132"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;132]</span>
+<p>Out ov his hand all up above his head,</p>
+<p>An' pitch'd in vower corners o' the groun'.</p>
+<p>An' then he velt his han' get all so num',</p>
+<p>He coulden veel a vinger or a thum';</p>
+<p>An' after that his e&auml;rm begun to zwell,</p>
+<p>An' in the night a-bed he vound</p>
+<p>The skin o't peel&egrave;n off all round.</p>
+<p>'Twer near a month avore he got it well.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<h5>JEM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>That wer vor hett&egrave;n &#333;'n. He should a let en</p>
+<p>Alwone d'ye zee: 'twer wicked vor to het en.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page133" id="page133"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;133]</span>
+
+<h3>SUNDRY PIECES.</h3>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/rule0-100.png" width="100" height="17" alt="rule" border="0" /></div><br />
+
+<h4>A ZONG.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O Jenny, don't sobby! vor I shall be true;</p>
+<p>Noo might under heaven shall pe&auml;rt me vrom you.</p>
+<p>My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I do slight</p>
+<p>The zwell o' thy bosom, thy eyes' sparkl&egrave;n light.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My kinsvo'k would fa&iuml;n zee me te&auml;ke vor my me&auml;te</p>
+<p>A ma&iuml;d that ha' wealth, but a ma&iuml;d I should he&auml;te;</p>
+<p>But I'd sooner le&auml;bour wi' thee vor my bride,</p>
+<p>Than live lik' a squier wi' any bezide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor all busy kinsvo'k, my love will be still</p>
+<p>A-zet upon thee lik' the vir in the hill;</p>
+<p>An' though they mid worry, an' dreaten, an' mock,</p>
+<p>My head's in the storm, but my root's in the rock.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo, Jenny, don't sobby! vor I shall be true;</p>
+<p>Noo might under heaven shall pe&auml;rt me vrom you.</p>
+<p>My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I do slight</p>
+<p>The zwell o' thy bosom, thy eyes' sparkl&egrave;n light.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page134" id="page134"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;134]</span>
+
+<h4>THE MAID VOR MY BRIDE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! don't tell o' ma&iuml;dens! the woone vor my bride</p>
+<p>Is little lik' too many ma&iuml;dens bezide,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Not brant&egrave;n, nor spitevul, nor wild; she've a mind</p>
+<p>To think o' what's right, an' a heart to be kind.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She's stra&iuml;ght an' she's slender, but not over tall,</p>
+<p>Wi' lim's that be lightsome, but not over small;</p>
+<p>The goodness o' heaven do breathe in her fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' a queen, to be ste&auml;tely, must walk wi' her pe&auml;ce.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Her frocks be a-me&auml;de all becom&egrave;n an' pla&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>An' cle&auml;n as a blossom undimm'd by a sta&iuml;n;</p>
+<p>Her bonnet ha' got but two ribbons, a-tied</p>
+<p>Up under her chin, or let down at the zide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When she do speak to woone, she don't ste&auml;re an' grin;</p>
+<p>There's sense in her looks, vrom her eyes to her chin,</p>
+<p>An' her words be so kind, an' her speech is so meek,</p>
+<p>As her eyes do look down a-beginn&egrave;n to speak.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Her skin is so white as a lily, an' each</p>
+<p>Ov her che&auml;ks is so downy an' red as a peach;</p>
+<p>She's pretty a-zitt&egrave;n; but oh! how my love</p>
+<p>Do watch her to madness when woonce she do move.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when she do walk hwome vrom church drough the groun',</p>
+<p>Wi' woone e&auml;rm in mine, an' wi' woone a-hung down,</p>
+<p>I do think, an' do veel mwore o' she&auml;me than o' pride,</p>
+<p>That do me&auml;ke me look ugly to walk by her zide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo don't talk o' ma&iuml;den's! the woone vor my bride</p>
+<p>Is but little lik' too many ma&iuml;dens bezide,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Not brant&egrave;n, nor spitevul, nor wild; she've a mind</p>
+<p>To think o' what's right, an' a heart to be kind.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page135" id="page135"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;135]</span>
+
+<h4>THE HWOMESTEAD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>If I had all the land my zight</p>
+    <p class="i2">Can overlook vrom Chalwell hill,</p>
+  <p>Vrom Sherborn left to Blanvord right,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Why I could be but happy still.</p>
+  <p>An' I be happy wi' my spot</p>
+  <p>O' freehold ground an' mossy cot,</p>
+  <p>An' shoulden get a better lot</p>
+    <p class="i2">If I had all my will.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>My orcha'd's wide, my trees be young;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' they do bear such heavy crops,</p>
+  <p>Their boughs, lik' onion-rwopes a-hung,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Be all a-trigg'd to year, wi' props.</p>
+  <p>I got some ge&auml;rden groun' to dig,</p>
+  <p>A parrock, an' a cow an' pig;</p>
+  <p>I got zome cider vor to swig,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' e&auml;le o' malt an' hops.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>I'm landlord o' my little farm,</p>
+    <p class="i2">I'm king 'ithin my little ple&auml;ce;</p>
+  <p>I don't break laws, an' don't do harm,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' bent a-fe&auml;r'd o' noo man's fe&auml;ce.</p>
+  <p>When I'm a-cover'd wi' my thatch,</p>
+  <p>Noo man do de&auml;re to lift my latch;</p>
+  <p>Where honest han's do shut the hatch,</p>
+    <p class="i2">There fear do le&auml;ve the ple&auml;ce.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>My lofty elem trees do screen</p>
+    <p class="i2">My brown-ruf'd house, an' here below,</p>
+  <p>My geese do strut athirt the green,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' hiss an' flap their wings o' snow;</p>
+  <p>As I do walk along a rank</p>
+  <p>Ov apple trees, or by a bank,</p>
+  <p>Or zit upon a bar or plank,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To see how things do grow.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page136" id="page136"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;136]</span>
+
+<h4>THE FARMER'S WOLDEST D&#256;'TER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>No, no! I ben't a-runn&egrave;n down</p>
+  <p>The pretty ma&iuml;den's o' the town,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Nor wish&egrave;n o'm noo harm;</p>
+  <p>But she that I would marry vu'st,</p>
+  <p>To she&auml;re my good luck or my crust,</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a-bred up at a farm.</p>
+  <p>In town, a ma&iuml;d do zee mwore life,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' I don't under-re&auml;te her;</p>
+  <p>But ten to woone the sprackest wife</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a farmer's woldest d&#257;'ter.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Vor she do veed, wi' tender ce&auml;re,</p>
+  <p>The little woones, an' pe&auml;rt their he&auml;ir,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' keep em neat an' pirty;</p>
+  <p>An' keep the saucy little chaps</p>
+  <p>O' bwoys in trim wi' dreats an' slaps,</p>
+    <p class="i2">When they be wild an' dirty.</p>
+  <p>Zoo if you'd have a bus'l&egrave;n wife,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' childern well look'd after,</p>
+  <p>The ma&iuml;d to help ye all drough life</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a farmer's woldest d&#257;'ter.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' she can iorn up an' vwold</p>
+  <p>A book o' clothes w&iuml;' young or wold,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' zalt an' roll the butter;</p>
+  <p>An' me&auml;ke brown bread, an' elder wine,</p>
+  <p>An' zalt down meat in pans o' brine,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' do what you can put her.</p>
+  <p>Zoo if you've wherewi', an' would vind</p>
+    <p class="i2">A wife wo'th look&egrave;n &#257;'ter,</p>
+  <p>Goo an' get a farmer in the mind</p>
+    <p class="i2">To gi'e ye his woldest d&#257;'ter.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page137" id="page137"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;137]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Her heart's so innocent an' kind,</p>
+  <p>She idden thoughtless, but do mind</p>
+    <p class="i2">Her mother an' her duty;</p>
+  <p>An' liv&egrave;n blushes, that do spread</p>
+  <p>Upon her healthy fe&auml;ce o' red,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do heighten all her beauty;</p>
+  <p>So quick's a bird, so neat's a cat,</p>
+    <p class="i2">So cheerful in her ne&auml;tur,</p>
+  <p>The best o' ma&iuml;dens to come at</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a farmer's woldest d&#257;'ter.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p137" id="p137"></a>
+
+<h4>UNCLE OUT O' DEBT AN' OUT O' DANGER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i4">Ees; uncle had thik small hwomestead,</p>
+      <p class="i4">The le&auml;zes an' the bits o' mead,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Besides the orcha'd in his prime,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' copse-wood vor the winter time.</p>
+      <p class="i4">His wold black me&auml;re, that draw'd his cart,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' he, wer seldom long ape&auml;rt;</p>
+      <p class="i4">Vor he work'd hard an' pa&iuml;d his woy,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' zung so litsom as a bwoy,</p>
+          <p class="i8">As he toss'd an' work'd,</p>
+          <p class="i8">An' blow'd an' quirk'd,</p>
+      <p class="i4">"I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' I can fe&auml;ce a friend or stranger;</p>
+  <p>I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a pe&auml;ir</p>
+  <p>Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my me&auml;re.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i4">His me&auml;re's long vlexy vetlocks grow'd</p>
+      <p class="i4">Down roun' her hoofs so black an' brode;</p>
+      <p class="i4">Her head hung low, her ta&iuml;l reach'd down</p>
+      <p class="i4">A-bobb&egrave;n nearly to the groun'.</p>
+      <p class="i4">The cwoat that uncle mwostly wore</p>
+      <p class="i4">Wer long behind an' stra&iuml;ght avore,</p><a name="page138" id="page138"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;138]</span>
+      <p class="i4">An' in his shoes he had girt buckles,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' breeches button'd round his huckles;</p>
+          <p class="i8">An' he zung wi' pride,</p>
+          <p class="i8">By's wold me&auml;re's zide,</p>
+      <p class="i4">"I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' I can fe&auml;ce a friend or stranger;</p>
+  <p>I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a pe&auml;ir</p>
+  <p>Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i4">An' he would work,&mdash;an' lwoad, an' shoot,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' spur his heaps o' dung or zoot;</p>
+      <p class="i4">Or car out ha&yuml;, to sar his vew</p>
+      <p class="i4">Milch cows in corners dry an' lew;</p>
+      <p class="i4">Or dreve a zyve, or work a pick,</p>
+      <p class="i4">To pitch or me&auml;ke his little rick;</p>
+      <p class="i4">Or thatch en up wi' straw or zedge,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Or stop a shard, or gap, in hedge;</p>
+          <p class="i8">An' he work'd an' flung</p>
+          <p class="i8">His e&auml;rms, an' zung</p>
+      <p class="i4">"I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' I can fe&auml;ce a friend or stranger;</p>
+  <p>I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a pe&auml;ir</p>
+  <p>Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i4">An' when his me&auml;re an' he'd a-done</p>
+      <p class="i4">Their work, an' tired ev'ry bwone,</p>
+      <p class="i4">He zot avore the vire, to spend</p>
+      <p class="i4">His even&egrave;n wi' his wife or friend;</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' wi' his lags out-stratch'd vor rest,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' woone hand in his wes'coat breast,</p>
+      <p class="i4">While burn&egrave;n sticks did hiss an' crack,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' fle&auml;mes did ble&auml;zy up the back,</p>
+          <p class="i8">There he zung so proud</p>
+          <p class="i8">In a bakky cloud,</p>
+      <p class="i4">"I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' I can fe&auml;ce a friend or stranger;</p><a name="page139" id="page139"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;139]</span>
+  <p>I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a pe&auml;ir</p>
+  <p>Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i4">From market how he used to ride,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Wi' pot's a-bump&egrave;n by his zide</p>
+      <p class="i4">Wi' things a-bought&mdash;but not vor trust,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Vor what he had he pa&iuml;d vor vu'st;</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' when he trotted up the yard,</p>
+      <p class="i4">The calves did ble&auml;ry to be sar'd,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' pigs did scoat all drough the muck,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' geese did hiss, an' hens did cluck;</p>
+          <p class="i8">An' he zung aloud,</p>
+          <p class="i8">So pleased an' proud,</p>
+      <p class="i4">"I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' I can fe&auml;ce a friend or stranger;</p>
+  <p>I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a pe&auml;ir</p>
+  <p>Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i4">When he wer jogg&egrave;n hwome woone night</p>
+      <p class="i4">Vrom market, after candle-light,</p>
+      <p class="i4">(He mid a-took a drop o' beer,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Or midden, vor he had noo fear,)</p>
+      <p class="i4">Zome ugly, long-lagg'd, herr&egrave;n ribs,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Jump'd out an' ax'd en vor his dibs;</p>
+      <p class="i4">But he soon gi'ed en such a mawl&egrave;n,</p>
+      <p class="i4">That there he left en down a-sprawl&egrave;n,</p>
+          <p class="i8">While he jogg'd along</p>
+          <p class="i8">Wi' his own wold zong,</p>
+      <p class="i4">"I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' I can fe&auml;ce a friend or stranger;</p>
+  <p>I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a pe&auml;ir</p>
+  <p>Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare."</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page140" id="page140"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;140]</span>
+
+<h4>THE CHURCH AN' HAPPY ZUNDAY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ah! ev'ry day mid bring a while</p>
+  <p>O' e&auml;se vrom all woone's ce&auml;re an' tweil,</p>
+  <p>The welcome even&egrave;n, when 'tis sweet</p>
+  <p>Vor tired friends wi' weary veet,</p>
+  <p>But litsome hearts o' love, to meet;</p>
+  <p>An' yet while weekly times do roll,</p>
+  <p>The best vor body an' vor soul</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S the church an' happy Zunday.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Vor then our loosen'd souls do rise</p>
+  <p>Wi' holy thoughts beyond the skies,</p>
+  <p>As we do think o' <i>Him</i> that shed</p>
+  <p>His blood vor us, an' still do spread</p>
+  <p>His love upon the live an' dead;</p>
+  <p>An' how He gi'ed a time an' ple&auml;ce</p>
+  <p>To gather us, an' gi'e us gre&auml;ce,&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">The church an' happy Zunday.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>There, under le&auml;nen mossy stwones,</p>
+  <p>Do lie, vorgot, our fathers' bwones,</p>
+  <p>That trod this groun' vor years agoo,</p>
+  <p>When things that now be wold wer new;</p>
+  <p>An' comely ma&iuml;dens, mild an' true,</p>
+  <p>That me&auml;de their sweet-hearts happy brides,</p>
+  <p>An' come to kneel down at their zides</p>
+    <p class="i2">At church o' happy Zundays.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>'Tis good to zee woone's na&iuml;ghbours come</p>
+  <p>Out drough the churchyard, vlock&egrave;n hwome,</p>
+  <p>As woone do nod, an' woone do smile,</p>
+  <p>An' woone do toss another's chile;</p>
+  <p>An' zome be she&auml;ken han's, the while</p>
+  <p>Poll's uncle, chuck&egrave;n her below</p>
+  <p>Her chin, do tell her she do grow,</p>
+    <p class="i2">At church o' happy Zundays.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page141" id="page141"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;141]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Zoo while our blood do run in va&iuml;ns</p>
+  <p>O' liv&egrave;n souls in the&auml;sum pla&iuml;ns,</p>
+  <p>Mid happy housen smoky round</p>
+  <p>The church an' holy bit o' ground;</p>
+  <p>An' while their wedd&egrave;n bells do sound,</p>
+  <p>Oh! mid em have the me&auml;ns o' gre&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p>The holy day an' holy ple&auml;ce,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The church an' happy Zunday.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p141" id="p141"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WOLD WAGGON.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The girt wold waggon uncle had,</p>
+<p>When I wer up a hardish lad,</p>
+<p>Did stand, a-screen'd vrom het an' wet,</p>
+<p>In zummer at the barken ge&auml;te,</p>
+<p>Below the elems' spre&auml;d&egrave;n boughs,</p>
+<p>A-rubb'd by all the pigs an' cows.</p>
+<p>An' I've a-clom his head an' zides,</p>
+<p>A-rigg&egrave;n up or jump&egrave;n down</p>
+<p>A-pla&yuml;&egrave;n, or in happy rides</p>
+<p>Along the le&auml;ne or drough the groun',</p>
+<p>An' many souls be in their gre&auml;ves,</p>
+<p>That rod' together on his re&auml;ves;</p>
+<p>An' he, an' all the hosses too,</p>
+<p>'V a-ben a-done vor years agoo.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Upon his head an' ta&iuml;l wer pinks,</p>
+<p>A-pa&iuml;nted all in tangled links;</p>
+<p>His two long zides wer blue,&mdash;his bed</p>
+<p>Bent slightly upward at the head;</p>
+<p>His re&auml;ves rose upward in a bow</p>
+<p>Above the slow hind-wheels below.</p>
+<p>Vour hosses wer a-kept to pull</p>
+<p>The girt wold waggon when 'twer vull;</p>
+<p>The black me&auml;re <i>Smiler</i>, strong enough</p>
+<p>To pull a house down by herzuf,</p><a name="page142" id="page142"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;142]</span>
+<p>So big, as took my widest strides</p>
+<p>To straddle halfway down her zides;</p>
+<p>An' champ&egrave;n <i>Vi'let</i>, sprack an' light,</p>
+<p>That foam'd an' pull'd wi' all her might:</p>
+<p>An' <i>Whitevoot</i>, le&auml;zy in the tre&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Wi' cunn&egrave;n looks an' show-white fe&auml;ce;</p>
+<p>Bezides a ba&yuml; woone, short-ta&iuml;l <i>Jack</i>,</p>
+<p>That wer a tre&auml;ce-hoss or a hack.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How many lwoads o' vuzz, to scald</p>
+<p>The milk, thik waggon have a-haul'd!</p>
+<p>An' wood vrom copse, an' poles vor ra&iuml;ls.</p>
+<p>An' bay&egrave;ns wi' their bushy ta&iuml;ls;</p>
+<p>An' loose-ear'd barley, hang&egrave;n down</p>
+<p>Outzide the wheels a'm&oacute;st to groun',</p>
+<p>An' lwoads o' ha&yuml; so sweet an' dry,</p>
+<p>A-builded stra&iuml;ght, an' long, an' high;</p>
+<p>An' ha&yuml;-me&auml;kers, a-zitt&egrave;n roun'</p>
+<p>The re&auml;ves, a-rid&egrave;n hwome vrom groun',</p>
+<p>When Jim gi'ed Jenny's lips a-smack,</p>
+<p>An' jealous Dicky whipp'd his back,</p>
+<p>An' ma&iuml;dens scream'd to veel the thumps</p>
+<p>A-gi'ed by trenches an' by humps.</p>
+<p>But he, an' all his hosses too,</p>
+<p>'V a-ben a-done vor years agoo.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p142" id="p142"></a>
+
+<h4>THE DR&Egrave;VEN O' THE COMMON.<a href="#p142n"><sup>*</sup></a></h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In the common by our hwome</p>
+<p>There wer freely-open room,</p>
+<p>Vor our litty veet to roam</p>
+<p>By the vuzzen out in bloom.</p>
+<p>That wi' prickles kept our lags</p>
+<p>Vrom the skylark's nest ov aggs;</p><a name="page143" id="page143"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;143]</span>
+<p>While the peewit wheel'd around</p>
+<p>Wi' his cry up over head,</p>
+<p>Or he sped, though a-limp&egrave;n, o'er the ground.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There we he&auml;rd the whickr'&egrave;n me&auml;re</p>
+<p>Wi' her va&iuml;ce a-quiv'r&egrave;n high;</p>
+<p>Where the cow did loudly ble&auml;re</p>
+<p>By the donkey's vall&egrave;n cry.</p>
+<p>While a-stoop&egrave;n man did zwing</p>
+<p>His bright hook at vuzz or ling</p>
+<p>Free o' fear, wi' wellglov'd hands,</p>
+<p>O' the prickly vuzz he vell'd,</p>
+<p>Then sweet-smell'd as it died in faggot bands.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When the ha&yuml;ward drove the stock</p>
+<p>In a herd to zome oone ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Thither vo'k begun to vlock,</p>
+<p>Each to own his be&auml;stes fe&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>While the geese, bezide the stream,</p>
+<p>Zent vrom gap&egrave;n bills a scream,</p>
+<p>An' the cattle then avound,</p>
+<p>Without right o' gre&auml;zen there,</p>
+<p>Went to ble&auml;re bra&yuml; or whicker in the pound.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<a name="p142n" id="p142n"></a>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;"><a href="#p142"><sup>*</sup></a>The Driving of the Common was by the <i>Hayward</i> who,</span></p>
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;whenever he thought fit, would drive all the cattle into a</span></p>
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;corner and impound all heads belonging to owners</span></p>
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;without a right of commonage for them, so that they</span></p>
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;had to ransom them by a fine.</span></p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p143" id="p143"></a>
+
+<h4>THE COMMON A-TOOK IN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Oh! no, Poll, no! Since they've a-took</p>
+  <p>The common in, our lew wold nook</p>
+  <p>Don't seem a-bit as used to look</p>
+    <p class="i2">When we had runn&egrave;n room;</p>
+  <p>Girt banks do shut up ev'ry drong,</p>
+  <p>An' stratch wi' thorny backs along</p>
+  <p>Where we did use to run among</p>
+  <p>The vuzzen an' the broom.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page144" id="page144"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;144]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ees; while the ragged colts did crop</p>
+  <p>The nibbled grass, I used to hop</p>
+  <p>The emmet-buts, vrom top to top,</p>
+    <p class="i2">So proud o' my spry jumps:</p>
+  <p>Wi' thee behind or at my zide,</p>
+  <p>A-skipp&egrave;n on so light an' wide</p>
+  <p>'S thy little frock would let thee stride,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Among the vuzzy humps.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ah while the lark up over head</p>
+  <p>Did twitter, I did search the red</p>
+  <p>Thick bunch o' broom, or yollow bed</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' vuzzen vor a nest;</p>
+  <p>An' thou di'st hunt about, to meet</p>
+  <p>Wi' strawberries so red an' sweet,</p>
+  <p>Or clogs or shoes off hosses veet,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Or wild thyme vor thy breast;</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Or when the cows did run about</p>
+  <p>A-stung, in zummer, by the stout,</p>
+  <p>Or when they pla&yuml;'d, or when they fo&uuml;ght,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Di'st stand a-look&egrave;n on:</p>
+  <p>An' where white geese, wi' long red bills,</p>
+  <p>Did veed among the emmet-hills,</p>
+  <p>There we did goo to vind their quills</p>
+    <p class="i2">Alongzide o' the pon'.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>What fun there wer among us, when</p>
+  <p>The ha&yuml;ward come, wi' all his men,</p>
+  <p>To dr&egrave;ve the common, an' to pen</p>
+    <p class="i2">Strange cattle in the pound;</p>
+  <p>The cows did ble&auml;re, the men did shout</p>
+  <p>An' toss their e&auml;rms an' sticks about,</p>
+  <p>An' vo'ks, to own their stock, come out</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vrom all the housen round.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page145" id="page145"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;145]</span>
+
+<h4>A WOLD FRIEND.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Oh! when the friends we us'd to know,</p>
+    <p class="i2">'V a-been a-lost vor years; an' when</p>
+  <p>Zome happy day do come, to show</p>
+    <p class="i2">Their fe&auml;zen to our eyes age&auml;n,</p>
+  <p>Do me&auml;ke us look behind, John,</p>
+  <p>Do bring wold times to mind, John,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do me&auml;ke hearts veel, if they be steel,</p>
+  <p>All warm, an' soft, an' kind, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When we do lose, still ga&yuml; an' young,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A va&iuml;ce that us'd to call woone's ne&auml;me,</p>
+  <p>An' after years age&auml;n his tongue</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do sound upon our ears the se&auml;me,</p>
+  <p>Do kindle love anew, John,</p>
+  <p>Do wet woone's eyes wi' dew, John,</p>
+    <p class="i2">As we do she&auml;ke, vor friendship's se&auml;ke,</p>
+  <p>His vist an' vind en true, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>What tender thoughts do touch woone's soul,</p>
+    <p class="i2">When we do zee a me&auml;d or hill</p>
+  <p>Where we did work, or pla&yuml;, or stroll,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' talk wi' va&iuml;ces that be still;</p>
+  <p>'Tis touch&egrave;n vor to tre&auml;ce, John,</p>
+  <p>Wold times drough ev'ry ple&auml;ce, John;</p>
+    <p class="i2">But that can't touch woone's heart so much,</p>
+  <p>As zome wold long-lost fe&auml;ce, John.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p145" id="p145"></a>
+
+<h4>THE RWOSE THAT DECK'D HER BREAST.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Poor Jenny wer her Robert's bride</p>
+  <p>Two happy years, an' then he died;</p>
+  <p>An' zoo the wold vo'k me&auml;de her come,</p>
+  <p>Vorse&auml;ken, to her ma&iuml;den hwome.</p><a name="page146" id="page146"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;146]</span>
+  <p>But Jenny's merry tongue wer dum';</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' round her comely neck she wore</p>
+    <p class="i2">A murn&egrave;n kerchif, where avore</p>
+      <p class="i4">The rwose did deck her breast.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>She walk'd alwone, wi' eye-balls wet,</p>
+  <p>To zee the flow'rs that she'd a-zet;</p>
+  <p>The lilies, white's her ma&iuml;den frocks,</p>
+  <p>The spike, to put 'ithin her box,</p>
+  <p>Wi' columbines an' hollyhocks;</p>
+    <p class="i2">The jilliflow'r an' nodd&egrave;n pink,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' rwose that touch'd her soul to think</p>
+      <p class="i4">Ov woone that deck'd her breast.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Vor at her wedd&egrave;n, just avore</p>
+  <p>Her ma&iuml;den hand had yet a-wore</p>
+  <p>A wife's goold ring, wi' hang&egrave;n head</p>
+  <p>She walk'd along thik flower-bed,</p>
+  <p>Where stocks did grow, a-sta&iuml;ned wi' red,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' me&auml;rygoolds did skirt the walk,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' gather'd vrom the rwose's stalk</p>
+     <p class="i4"> A bud to deck her breast.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' then her che&auml;k, wi' youthvul blood</p>
+  <p>Wer bloom&egrave;n as the rwoses bud;</p>
+  <p>But now, as she wi' grief do pine,</p>
+  <p>'Tis pe&auml;le's the milk-white jessamine.</p>
+  <p>But Robert have a-left behine</p>
+    <p class="i2">A little be&auml;by wi' his fe&auml;ce,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To smile, an' nessle in the ple&auml;ce</p>
+      <p class="i4">Where the rwose did deck her breast.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page147" id="page147"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;147]</span>
+
+<h4>NANNY'S COW.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ov all the cows, among the rest</p>
+  <p>Wer woone that Nanny lik'd the best;</p>
+  <p>An' after milk&egrave;n us'd to stan'</p>
+  <p>A-veed&egrave;n o' her, vrom her han',</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' grass or ha&yuml;; an' she know'd Ann,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' in the even&egrave;n she did come</p>
+    <p class="i2">The vu'st, a-be&auml;t&egrave;n &uuml;p roun' hwome</p>
+      <p class="i4">Vor Ann to come an' milk her.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Her back wer hollor as a bow,</p>
+  <p>Her lags wer short, her body low;</p>
+  <p>Her head wer small, her horns turn'd in</p>
+  <p>Avore Her fe&auml;ce so sharp's a pin:</p>
+  <p>Her eyes wer vull, her ears wer thin,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' she wer red vrom head to ta&iuml;l,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' didden start nor kick the pa&iuml;l,</p>
+      <p class="i4">When Nanny zot to milk her.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>But losses zoon begun to vall</p>
+  <p>On Nanny's f&agrave;ther, that wi' all</p>
+  <p>His tweil he voun', wi' break&egrave;n heart,</p>
+  <p>That he mus' le&auml;ve his ground, an' pe&auml;rt</p>
+  <p>Wi' all his be&auml;st an' hoss an' cart;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An', what did touch en mwost, to zell</p>
+    <p class="i2">The red cow Nanny lik'd so well,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' lik'd vor her to milk her.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Zalt tears did run vrom Nanny's eyes,</p>
+  <p>To hear her restless father's sighs.</p>
+  <p>But as vor me, she mid be sure</p>
+  <p>I wont vorze&auml;ke her now she's poor,</p>
+  <p>Vor I do love her mwore an' mwore;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' if I can but get a cow</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' parrock, I'll vulvil my vow,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' she shall come an' milk her.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page148" id="page148"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;148]</span>
+
+<h4>THE SHEP'ERD BWOY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When the warm zummer breeze do blow over the hill,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' the vlock's a-spread over the ground;</p>
+  <p>When the va&iuml;ce o' the busy wold sheep dog is still,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' the sheep-bells do tinkle all round;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Where noo tree vor a she&auml;de but the thorn is a-vound,</p>
+          <p class="i8">There, a zing&egrave;n a zong,</p>
+          <p class="i8">Or a-whisl&egrave;n among</p>
+  <p>The sheep, the young shep'erd do bide all day long.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When the storm do come up wi' a thundery cloud</p>
+    <p class="i2">That do shut out the zunlight, an' high</p>
+  <p>Over head the wild thunder do rumble so loud,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' the lightn&egrave;n do flash vrom the sky,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Where noo shelter's a-vound but his hut, that is nigh,</p>
+          <p class="i8">There out ov all harm,</p>
+          <p class="i8">In the dry an' the warm,</p>
+  <p>The poor little shep'erd do smile at the storm.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When the cwold winter win' do blow over the hill,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' the hore-vrost do whiten the grass,</p>
+  <p>An' the breath o' the no'th is so cwold, as to chill</p>
+    <p class="i2">The warm blood ov woone's heart as do pass;</p>
+    <p class="i2">When the ice o' the pond is so slipp'ry as glass,</p>
+          <p class="i8">There, a-zing&egrave;n a zong,</p>
+          <p class="i8">Or a-whisl&egrave;n among</p>
+  <p>The sheep, the poor shep'erd do bide all day long.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When the shear&egrave;n's a-come, an' the shearers do pull</p>
+    <p class="i2">In the sheep, hang&egrave;n back a-gwa&iuml;n in,</p>
+  <p>Wi' their roun' zides a-heav&egrave;n in under their wool,</p>
+    T<p class="i2">o come out all a-clipp'd to the skin;</p>
+    <p class="i2">When the fe&auml;st&egrave;n, an' zing&egrave;n, an fun do begin,</p>
+          <p class="i8">Vor to help em, an' she&auml;re</p>
+          <p class="i8">All their me'th an' good fe&auml;re,</p>
+  <p>The poor little shep'erd is sure to be there.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page149" id="page149"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;149]</span>
+
+<h4>HOPE A-LEFT BEHIND.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Don't try to win a ma&iuml;den's heart,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To le&auml;ve her in her love,&mdash;'tis wrong:</p>
+  <p>'Tis bitter to her soul to pe&auml;rt</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' woone that is her sweetheart long.</p>
+    <p class="i2">A ma&iuml;d's vu'st love is always strong;</p>
+  <p>An' if do fa&iuml;l, she'll linger on,</p>
+  <p>Wi' all her best o' pleasure gone,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' hope a-left behind her.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Thy poor lost Jenny wer a-grow'd</p>
+    <p class="i2">So kind an' thoughtvul vor her years,</p>
+  <p>When she did meet wi' vo'k a-know'd</p>
+    <p class="i2">The best, her love did speak in tears.</p>
+    <p class="i2">She walk'd wi' thee, an' had noo fears</p>
+  <p>O' thy unkindness, till she zeed</p>
+  <p>Herzelf a-cast off lik' a weed,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' hope a-left behind her.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Thy slight turn'd pe&auml;le her cherry lip;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Her sorrow, not a-zeed by eyes,</p>
+  <p>Wer lik' the mildew, that do nip</p>
+    <p class="i2">A bud by darksome midnight skies.</p>
+    <p class="i2">The day mid come, the zun mid rise,</p>
+  <p>But there's noo hope o' day nor zun;</p>
+  <p>The storm ha' blow'd, the harm's a-done,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' hope's a-left behind her.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The time will come when thou wouldst gi'e</p>
+    <p class="i2">The worold vor to have her smile,</p>
+  <p>Or meet her by the parrock tree,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Or catch her jump&egrave;n off the stile;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Thy life's avore thee vor a while,</p>
+  <p>But thou wilt turn thy mind in time,</p>
+  <p>An' zee the de&egrave;d as 'tis,&mdash;a crime,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' hope a-left behind thee.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page150" id="page150"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;150]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p> never win a ma&iuml;den's heart,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But her's that is to be thy bride,</p>
+  <p>An' pla&yuml; drough life a manly pe&auml;rt,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' if she's true when time ha' tried</p>
+    <p class="i2">Her mind, then te&auml;ke her by thy zide.</p>
+  <p>True love will me&auml;ke thy hardships light,</p>
+  <p>True love will me&auml;ke the worold bright,</p>
+      <p class="i4">When hope's a-left behind thee.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p150" id="p150"></a>
+
+<h4>A GOOD FATHER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>No; mind thy father. When his tongue</p>
+    <p class="i2">Is keen, he's still thy friend, John,</p>
+  <p>Vor wolder vo'k should warn the young</p>
+    <p class="i2">How wickedness will end, John;</p>
+  <p>An' he do know a wicked youth</p>
+    <p class="i2">Would be thy manhood's be&auml;ne,</p>
+  <p>An' zoo would bring thee back age&auml;n</p>
+    <p class="i2">'Ithin the ways o' truth.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' mind en still when in the end</p>
+    <p class="i2">His le&auml;bour's all a-done, John,</p>
+  <p>An' let en vind a steadvast friend</p>
+    <p class="i2">In thee his thoughtvul son, John;</p>
+  <p>Vor he did win what thou didst lack</p>
+    <p class="i2">Avore couldst work or stand,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' zoo, when time do num' his hand,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Then pay his le&auml;bour back.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when his bwones be in the dust,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Then honour still his ne&auml;me, John;</p>
+  <p>An' as his godly soul wer just,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Let thine be voun' the se&auml;me, John.</p>
+  <p>Be true, as he wer true, to men,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' love the laws o' God;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Still tread the road that he've a-trod,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' live wi' him age&auml;n.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page151" id="page151"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;151]</span>
+
+<h4>THE BEAM IN GRENLEY CHURCH.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In church at Grenley woone mid zee</p>
+<p>A beam vrom wall to wall; a tree</p>
+<p>That's longer than the church is wide,</p>
+<p>An' zoo woone end o'n's drough outside,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Not cut off short, but bound all round</p>
+<p>Wi' lead, to keep en se&auml;fe an' sound.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Back when the builders vu'st begun</p>
+<p>The church,&mdash;as still the te&auml;le do run,&mdash;</p>
+<p>A man work'd wi' em; no man knew</p>
+<p>Who 'twer, nor whither he did goo.</p>
+<p>He wer as harmless as a chile,</p>
+<p>An' work'd 'ithout a frown or smile,</p>
+<p>Till any woaths or strife did rise</p>
+<p>To overcast his sparkl&egrave;n eyes:</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then he'd call their minds vrom strife,</p>
+<p>To think upon another life.</p>
+<p>He wer so strong, that all alwone</p>
+<p>He lifted beams an' blocks o' stwone,</p>
+<p>That others, with the girtest pa&iuml;ns,</p>
+<p>Could hardly wag wi' bars an' cha&iuml;ns;</p>
+<p>An' yet he never used to sta&yuml;</p>
+<p>O' Zaturdays, to te&auml;ke his pa&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Woone day the men wer out o' heart,</p>
+<p>To have a beam a-cut too short;</p>
+<p>An' in the even&egrave;n, when they shut</p>
+<p>Off work, they left en where 'twer put;</p>
+<p>An' while dumb night went softly by</p>
+<p>Tow&aacute;rds the vi'ry western sky,</p>
+<p>A-lull&egrave;n birds, an' shutt&egrave;n up</p>
+<p>The de&auml;isy an' the butter cup,</p><a name="page152" id="page152"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;152]</span>
+<p>They went to lay their heavy heads</p>
+<p>An' weary bwones upon their beds.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the dewy morn&egrave;n broke,</p>
+<p>An' show'd the worold, fresh awoke,</p>
+<p>Their godly work age&auml;n, they vound</p>
+<p>The beam they left upon the ground</p>
+<p>A-put in ple&auml;ce, where still do bide,</p>
+<p>An' long enough to reach outzide.</p>
+<p>But he unknown to tother men</p>
+<p>Wer never there at work age&auml;n:</p>
+<p>Zoo whether he mid be a man</p>
+<p>Or angel, wi' a help&egrave;n han',</p>
+<p>Or whether all o't wer a dream,</p>
+<p>They didden de&auml;re to cut the beam.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p152" id="p152"></a>
+
+<h4>THE VA&Iuml;CES THAT BE GONE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When even&egrave;n she&auml;des o' trees do hide</p>
+  <p>A body by the hedge's zide,</p>
+  <p>An' twitt'r&egrave;n birds, wi' pla&yuml;some flight,</p>
+  <p>Do vlee to roost at com&egrave;n night,</p>
+  <p>Then I do saunter out o' zight</p>
+    <p class="i2">In orcha'd, where the ple&auml;ce woonce rung</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' laughs a-laugh'd an' zongs a-zung</p>
+      <p class="i4">By va&iuml;ces that be gone.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>There's still the tree that bore our swing,</p>
+  <p>An' others where the birds did zing;</p>
+  <p>But long-leav'd docks do overgrow</p>
+  <p>The groun' we trampled he&auml;re below,</p>
+  <p>Wi' merry skipp&egrave;ns to an' fro</p>
+    <p class="i2">Bezide the banks, where Jim did zit</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-pla&yuml;&egrave;n o' the clarinit</p>
+      <p class="i4">To va&iuml;ces that be gone.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page153" id="page153"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;153]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>How mother, when we us'd to stun</p>
+  <p>Her head wi' all our na&iuml;sy fun,</p>
+  <p>Did wish us all a-gone vrom hwome:</p>
+  <p>An' now that zome be dead, an' zome</p>
+  <p>A-gone, an' all the ple&auml;ce is dum',</p>
+    <p class="i2">How she do wish, wi' useless tears,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To have age&auml;n about her ears</p>
+      <p class="i4">The va&iuml;ces that be gone.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Vor all the ma&iuml;dens an' the bwoys</p>
+  <p>But I, be marri'd off all woys,</p>
+  <p>Or dead an' gone; but I do bide</p>
+  <p>At hwome, alwone, at mother's zide,</p>
+  <p>An' often, at the even&egrave;n-tide,</p>
+    <p class="i2">I still do saunter out, wi' tears,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Down drough the orcha'd, where my ears</p>
+      <p class="i4">Do miss the va&iuml;ces gone.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p153" id="p153"></a>
+
+<h4>POLL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When out below the trees, that drow'd</p>
+  <p>Their scraggy lim's athirt the road,</p>
+  <p>While even&egrave;n zuns, a'm&oacute;st a-zet,</p>
+  <p>Gi'ed goolden light, but little het,</p>
+  <p>The merry chaps an' ma&iuml;dens met,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' look'd to zomebody to ne&auml;me</p>
+    <p class="i2">Their bit o' fun, a dance or ge&auml;me,</p>
+      <p class="i4">'Twer Poll they cluster'd round.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' after they'd a-had enough</p>
+  <p>O' snapp&egrave;n tongs, or blind-man's buff,</p>
+  <p>O' winter nights, an' went an' stood</p>
+  <p>Avore the vire o' ble&auml;zen wood,</p>
+  <p>Though there wer ma&iuml;dens kind an' good,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Though there wer ma&iuml;dens fe&auml;ir an' tall,</p>
+    <p class="i2">'Twer Poll that wer the queen o'm all,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' Poll they cluster'd round.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page154" id="page154"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;154]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' when the childern used to catch</p>
+  <p>A glimpse o' Poll avore the hatch,</p>
+  <p>The little things did run to meet</p>
+  <p>Their friend wi' skipp&egrave;n tott'r&egrave;n veet</p>
+  <p>An' thought noo other kiss so sweet</p>
+    <p class="i2">As hers; an' nwone could vind em out</p>
+    <p class="i2">Such ge&auml;mes to me&auml;ke em jump an' shout,</p>
+      <p class="i4">As Poll they cluster'd round.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' now, since she've a-left em, all</p>
+  <p>The ple&auml;ce do miss her, girt an' small.</p>
+  <p>In va&iuml;n vor them the zun do sheen</p>
+  <p>Upon the lwonesome rwoad an' green;</p>
+  <p>Their zwing do hang vorgot between</p>
+    <p class="i2">The le&auml;nen trees, vor they've a-lost</p>
+    <p class="i2"> best o' ma&iuml;dens, to their cost,</p>
+      <p class="i4">The ma&iuml;d they cluster'd round.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p154" id="p154"></a>
+
+<h4>LOOKS A-KNOW'D AVORE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>While zome, a-gwa&iuml;n from ple&auml;ce to ple&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p>Do daily meet wi' zome new fe&auml;ce,</p>
+  <p>When my day's work is at an end,</p>
+  <p>Let me zit down at hwome, an' spend</p>
+  <p>A happy hour wi' zome wold friend,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' by my own vire-zide reja&iuml;ce</p>
+    <p class="i2">In zome wold na&iuml;ghbour's welcome va&iuml;ce,</p>
+      <p class="i4">An' looks I know'd avore, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Why is it, friends that we've a-met</p>
+  <p>By zuns that now ha' long a-zet,</p>
+  <p>Or winter vires that ble&auml;zed for wold</p>
+  <p>An' young vo'k, now vor ever cwold,</p>
+  <p>Be met wi' ja&yuml; that can't be twold?</p>
+    <p class="i2">Why, 'tis because they friends have all</p>
+    <p class="i2">Our youthvul spring ha' left our fall,&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i4">The looks we know'd avore, John.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page155" id="page155"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;155]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>'Tis lively at a fe&auml;ir, among</p>
+  <p>The chatt&egrave;n, laugh&egrave;n, shiften drong,</p>
+  <p>When wold an' young, an' high an' low,</p>
+  <p>Do streamy round, an' to an' fro;</p>
+  <p>But what new fe&auml;ce that we don't know,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Can ever me&auml;ke woone's warm heart dance</p>
+    <p class="i2">Among ten thousan', lik' a glance</p>
+      <p class="i4">O' looks we know'd avore, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>How of'en have the wind a-shook</p>
+  <p>The leaves off into yonder brook,</p>
+  <p>Since vu'st we two, in youthvul strolls,</p>
+  <p>Did ramble roun' them bubbl&egrave;n shoals!</p>
+  <p>An' oh! that zome o' them young souls,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That we, in ja&yuml;, did pla&yuml; wi' then</p>
+    <p class="i2">Could come back now, an' bring age&auml;n</p>
+      <p class="i4">The looks we know'd avore, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>So soon's the barley's dead an' down,</p>
+  <p>The clover-leaf do rise vrom groun',</p>
+  <p>An' wolder fe&auml;zen do but goo</p>
+  <p>To be a-vollow'd still by new;</p>
+  <p>But souls that be a-tried an' true</p>
+    <p class="i2">Shall meet age&auml;n beyond the skies,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' bring to woone another's eyes</p>
+      <p class="i4">The looks they know'd avore, John.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p155" id="p155"></a>
+
+<h4>THE MUSIC O' THE DEAD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When music, in a heart that's true,</p>
+  <p>Do kindle up wold loves anew,</p>
+  <p>An' dim wet eyes, in fe&auml;irest lights,</p>
+  <p>Do zee but inward fancy's zights;</p>
+  <p>When creep&egrave;n years, wi' with'r&egrave;n blights,</p>
+    <p class="i2">'V a-took off them that wer so dear,</p>
+    <p class="i2">How touch&egrave;n 'tis if we do hear</p>
+      <p class="i4">The tu&egrave;ns o' the dead, John.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page156" id="page156"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;156]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When I, a-stann&egrave;n in the lew</p>
+  <p>O' trees a storm's a-be&auml;t&egrave;n drough,</p>
+  <p>Do zee the slant&egrave;n mist a-drove</p>
+  <p>By spitevul winds along the grove,</p>
+  <p>An' hear their hollow sounds above</p>
+    <p class="i2">My shelter'd head, do seem, as I</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do think o' zunny days gone by.</p>
+      <p class="i4">Lik' music vor the dead, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Last night, as I wer gwa&iuml;n along</p>
+  <p>The brook, I he&auml;rd the milk-ma&iuml;d's zong</p>
+  <p>A-ring&egrave;n out so clear an' shrill</p>
+  <p>Along the me&auml;ds an' roun' the hill.</p>
+  <p>I catch'd the tu&egrave;n, an' stood still</p>
+    <p class="i2">To hear 't; 'twer woone that Je&auml;ne did zing</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-vield a-milk&egrave;n in the spring,&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i4">Sweet music o' the dead, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Don't tell o' zongs that be a-zung</p>
+  <p>By young chaps now, wi' she&auml;meless tongue:</p>
+  <p>Zing me wold ditties, that would start</p>
+  <p>The ma&iuml;den's tears, or stir my heart</p>
+  <p>To te&auml;ke in life a manly pe&auml;rt,&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">The wold vo'k's zongs that twold a te&auml;le,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' vollow'd round their mugs o' e&auml;le,</p>
+      <p class="i4">The music o' the dead, John.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p156" id="p156"></a>
+
+<h4>THE PLE&Auml;CE A TE&Auml;LE'S A-TWOLD O'.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Why tidden vields an' runn&egrave;n brooks,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Nor trees in Spring or fall;</p>
+  <p>An' tidden woody slopes an' nooks,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Do touch us mwost ov all;</p>
+  <p>An' tidden ivy that do cling</p>
+    <p class="i2">By housen big an' wold, O,</p>
+  <p>But this is, after all, the thing,&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">The ple&auml;ce a te&auml;le's a-twold o'.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page157" id="page157"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;157]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>At Burn, where mother's young friends know'd</p>
+    <p class="i2">The vu'st her ma&iuml;den ne&auml;me,</p>
+  <p>The zunny knaps, the narrow road</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' green, be still the se&auml;me;</p>
+  <p>The squier's house, an' ev'ry ground</p>
+    <p class="i2">That now his son ha' zwold, O,</p>
+  <p>An' ev'ry wood he hunted round</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a ple&auml;ce a te&auml;le's a-twold o'.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The ma&iuml;d a-lov'd to our heart's core,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The dearest of our kin,</p>
+  <p>Do me&auml;ke us like the very door</p>
+    <p class="i2">Where they went out an' in.</p>
+  <p>'Tis zome'hat touch&egrave;n that bevel</p>
+    <p class="i2">Poor flesh an' blood o' wold, O,</p>
+  <p>Do me&auml;ke us like to zee so well</p>
+    <p class="i2">The ple&auml;ce a te&auml;le's a-twold o'.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When blush&egrave;n Jenny vu'st did come</p>
+    <p class="i2">To zee our Poll o' nights,</p>
+  <p>An' had to goo back le&auml;tish hwome,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Where vo'k did zee the zights,</p>
+  <p>A-chatt&egrave;n loud below the sky</p>
+    <p class="i2">So dark, an' winds so cwold, O,</p>
+  <p>How proud wer I to zee her by</p>
+    <p class="i2">The ple&auml;ce the te&auml;le's a-twold o'.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Zoo whether 'tis the humpy ground</p>
+    <p class="i2">That wer a battle viel',</p>
+  <p>Or mossy house, all ivy-bound,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' vall&egrave;n down piece-meal;</p>
+  <p>Or if 'tis but a scraggy tree,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Where beauty smil'd o' wold, O,</p>
+  <p>How dearly I do like to zee</p>
+    <p class="i2">The ple&auml;ce a te&auml;le's a-twold o'.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page158" id="page158"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;158]</span>
+
+<h4>AUNT'S TANTRUMS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Why ees, aunt Anne's a little sta&iuml;d,</p>
+  <p>But kind an' merry, poor wold ma&iuml;d!</p>
+  <p>If we don't cut her heart wi' slights,</p>
+  <p>She'll zit an' put our things to rights,</p>
+  <p>Upon a hard day's work, o' nights;</p>
+    <p class="i2">But zet her up, she's jis' lik' vier,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' woe betide the woone that's nigh 'er.</p>
+      <p class="i4">When she is in her tantrums.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>She'll toss her head, a-stepp&egrave;n out</p>
+  <p>Such strides, an' fling the pa&iuml;ls about;</p>
+  <p>An' slam the doors as she do goo,</p>
+  <p>An' kick the cat out wi' her shoe,</p>
+  <p>Enough to het her off in two.</p>
+    <p class="i2">The bwoys do bundle out o' house,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-lassen they should get a towse,</p>
+      <p class="i4">When aunt is in her tantrums.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>She whurr'd, woone day, the wooden bowl</p>
+  <p>In such a veag at my poor poll;</p>
+  <p>It brush'd the he&auml;ir above my crown,</p>
+  <p>An' whizz'd on down upon the groun',</p>
+  <p>An' knock'd the bantam cock right down,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But up he sprung, a-te&auml;k&egrave;n flight</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' tothers, cluck&egrave;n in a fright,</p>
+      <p class="i4">Vrom aunt in such a tantrum!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>But Dick stole in, an' reach'd en down</p>
+  <p>The biggest blather to be voun',</p>
+  <p>An' crope an' put en out o' zight</p>
+  <p>Avore the vire, an' plimm'd en tight</p>
+  <p>An crack'd en wi' the slice thereright</p>
+    <p class="i2">She scream'd, an' bundled out o' house,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' got so quiet as a mouse,&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i4">It frighten'd off her tantrum.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page159" id="page159"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;159]</span>
+
+<h4>THE STWON&Egrave;N PWORCH.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A new house! Ees, indeed! a small</p>
+<p>Stra&iuml;ght, upstart thing, that, after all,</p>
+<p>Do te&auml;ke in only half the groun'</p>
+<p>The wold woone did avore 'twer down;</p>
+<p>Wi' little windows stra&iuml;ght an' flat,</p>
+<p>Not big enough to zun a-cat,</p>
+<p>An' deal&egrave;n door a-me&auml;de so thin,</p>
+<p>A puff o' wind would blow en in,</p>
+<p>Where woone do vind a thing to knock</p>
+<p>So small's the hammer ov a clock,</p>
+<p>That wull but me&auml;ke a little click</p>
+<p>About so loud's a clock do tick!</p>
+<p>Gi'e me the wold house, wi' the wide</p>
+<p>An' lofty-lo'ted rooms inside;</p>
+<p>An' wi' the stwon&egrave;n pworch avore</p>
+<p>The na&iuml;l-bestudded woaken door,</p>
+<p>That had a knocker very little</p>
+<p>Less to handle than a bittle,</p>
+<p>That het a blow that vled so loud</p>
+<p>Drough house as thunder drough a cloud.</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;de the dog behind the door</p>
+<p>Growl out so deep's a bull do roar.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In all the house, o' young an' wold,</p>
+<p>There werden woone but could a-twold</p>
+<p>When he'd noo wish to seek abrode</p>
+<p>Mwore ja&yuml; than thik wold pworch bestow'd!</p>
+<p>For there, when yollow even&egrave;n shed</p>
+<p>His light age&auml;n the elem's head,</p>
+<p>An' gnots did whiver in the zun,</p>
+<p>An' uncle's work wer all a-done,</p>
+<p>His whiffs o' melt&egrave;n smoke did roll</p>
+<p>Above his bend&egrave;n pipe's white bowl,</p><a name="page160" id="page160"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;160]</span>
+<p>While he did chat, or, zitt&egrave;n dumb,</p>
+<p>Inja&yuml; his thoughts as they did come.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' Jimmy, wi' his crowd below</p>
+<p>His chin, did dreve his nimble bow</p>
+<p>In tu&egrave;ns vor to me&auml;ke us spring</p>
+<p>A-reel&egrave;n, or in zongs to zing,</p>
+<p>An' there, between the dark an' light,</p>
+<p>Zot Poll by Willy's zide at night</p>
+<p>A-whisp'r&egrave;n, while her eyes did zwim</p>
+<p>In ja&yuml; avore the twilight dim;</p>
+<p>An' when (to know if she wer near)</p>
+<p>Aunt call'd, did cry, "Ees, mother; here."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No, no; I woulden gi'e thee thanks</p>
+<p>Vor fine white walls an' vloors o' planks,</p>
+<p>Nor doors a-p&auml;inted up so fine.</p>
+<p>If I'd a wold grey house o' mine,</p>
+<p>Gi'e me vor all it should be small,</p>
+<p>A stwon&egrave;n pworch instead &#333;'t all.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p160" id="p160"></a>
+
+<h4>FARMER'S SONS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ov all the chaps a-burnt so brown</p>
+    <p class="i2">By zunny hills an' hollors,</p>
+  <p>Ov all the whindl&egrave;n chaps in town</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' backs so weak as rollers,</p>
+  <p>There's narn that's half so light o' heart,</p>
+    <p class="i2">(I'll bet, if thou't zay "done," min,)</p>
+  <p>An' narn that's half so strong an' smart,</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a merry farmer's son, min.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>He'll fling a stwone so true's a shot,</p>
+    <p class="i2">He'll jump so light's a cat;</p>
+  <p>He'll heave a wa&iuml;ght up that would squot</p>
+    <p class="i2">A weakly fellow flat.</p><a name="page161" id="page161"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;161]</span>
+  <p>He wont gi'e up when things don't fa&yuml;,</p>
+    <p class="i2">But turn em into fun, min;</p>
+  <p>An' what's hard work to zome, is pla&yuml;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Avore a farmer's son, min.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>His bwony e&auml;rm an' knuckly vist</p>
+    <p class="i2">('Tis best to me&auml;ke a friend o't)</p>
+  <p>Would het a fellow, that's a-miss'd,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Half backward wi' the wind o't.</p>
+  <p>Wi' such a chap at hand, a ma&iuml;d</p>
+    <p class="i2">Would never goo a nun, min;</p>
+  <p>She'd have noo call to be afra&iuml;d</p>
+    <p class="i2">Bezide a farmer's son, min.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>He'll turn a vurrow, drough his langth,</p>
+    <p class="i2">So stra&iuml;ght as eyes can look,</p>
+  <p>Or pitch all day, wi' half his strangth,</p>
+    <p class="i2">At ev'ry pitch a pook;</p>
+  <p>An' then goo vower mile, or vive,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To vind his friends in fun, min,</p>
+  <p>Vor ma&iuml;den's be but dead alive</p>
+    <p class="i2">'Ithout a farmer's son, min.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Zoo ja&yuml; be in his heart so light,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' manly fe&auml;ce so brown;</p>
+  <p>An' health goo wi' en hwome at night,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vrom me&auml;d, or wood, or down.</p>
+  <p>O' rich an' poor, o' high an' low,</p>
+    <p class="i2">When all's a-said an' done, min,</p>
+  <p>The smartest chap that I do know,</p>
+    <p class="i2">'S a work&egrave;n farmer's son, min.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p161" id="p161"></a>
+
+<h4>JE&Auml;NE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>We now mid hope vor better cheer,</p>
+  <p>My smil&egrave;n wife o' twice vive year.</p>
+  <p>Let others frown, if thou bist near</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' hope upon thy brow, Je&auml;ne;</p><a name="page162" id="page162"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;162]</span>
+  <p>Vor I vu'st lov'd thee when thy light</p>
+  <p>Young she&auml;pe vu'st grew to woman's height;</p>
+  <p>I loved thee near, an' out o' zight,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' I do love thee now, Je&auml;ne.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' we've a-trod the sheen&egrave;n ble&auml;de</p>
+  <p>Ov eegrass in the zummer she&auml;de,</p>
+  <p>An' when the le&auml;ves begun to fe&auml;de</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' zummer in the we&auml;ne, Je&auml;ne;</p>
+  <p>An' we've a-wander'd drough the groun'</p>
+  <p>O' sway&egrave;n wheat a-turn&egrave;n brown,</p>
+  <p>An' we've a-stroll'd together roun'</p>
+    <p class="i2">The brook an' drough the le&auml;ne, Jeane.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' nwone but I can ever tell</p>
+  <p>Ov all thy tears that have a-vell</p>
+  <p>When trials me&auml;de thy bosom zwell,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' nwone but thou o' mine, Je&auml;ne;</p>
+  <p>An' now my heart, that heav'd wi' pride</p>
+  <p>Back then to have thee at my zide,</p>
+  <p>Do love thee mwore as years do slide,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' le&auml;ve them times behine, Je&auml;ne.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p162" id="p162"></a>
+
+<h4>THE DREE WOAKS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>By the brow o' thik hang&egrave;n I spent all my youth,</p>
+    <p class="i2">In the house that did peep out between</p>
+  <p>The dree woaks, that in winter avworded their lewth,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' in zummer their she&auml;de to the green;</p>
+  <p>An' there, as in zummer we play'd at our ge&auml;mes,</p>
+        <p class="i6">We &#275;ach own'd a tree,</p>
+        <p class="i6">Vor we wer but dree,</p>
+  <p>An' zoo the dree woaks wer a-call'd by our ne&auml;mes.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page163" id="page163"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;163]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' two did grow scraggy out over the road,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' they wer call'd Jimmy's an' mine;</p>
+  <p>An' tother wer Je&auml;nnet's, much kindlier grow'd,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi' a knotless an' white ribb&egrave;d rine.</p>
+  <p>An' there, o' fine nights avore gw&auml;in in to rest,</p>
+        <p class="i6">We did dance, vull o' life,</p>
+        <p class="i6">To the sound o' the fife,</p>
+  <p>Or pla&yuml; at some ge&auml;me that poor Je&auml;nnet lik'd best.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Zoo happy wer we by the woaks o' the green,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Till we lost sister Je&auml;nnet, our pride;</p>
+  <p>Vor when she wer come to her last blush&egrave;n <i>teen</i>,</p>
+    <p class="i2">She suddenly zicken'd an' died.</p>
+  <p>An' avore the green leaves in the fall wer gone by,</p>
+        <p class="i6">The lightn&egrave;n struck dead</p>
+        <p class="i6">Her woaken tree's head,</p>
+  <p>An' left en a-stripp'd to the wintery sky.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>But woone ov his e&auml;corns, a-zet in the Fall,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Come up the Spring after, below</p>
+  <p>The trees at her head-stwone 'ithin the church-wall,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' mother, to see how did grow,</p>
+  <p>Shed a tear; an' when father an' she wer bwoth dead,</p>
+        <p class="i6">There they wer laid deep,</p>
+        <p class="i6">Wi' their Je&auml;nnet, to sleep,</p>
+  <p>Wi' her at his zide, an' her tree at her head.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' vo'k do still call the wold house the dree woaks,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor thik is a-reckon'd that's down,</p>
+  <p>As mother, a-ne&auml;m&egrave;n her childern to vo'ks,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Me&auml;de dree when but two wer a-voun';</p>
+  <p>An' zaid that hereafter she knew she should zee</p>
+        <p class="i6">Why God, that's above,</p>
+        <p class="i6">Vound fit in his love</p>
+  <p>To strike wi' his han' the poor ma&iuml;d an' her tree.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page164" id="page164"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;164]</span>
+
+<h4>THE HWOMESTEAD A-VELL INTO HAND.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>The house where I wer born an' bred,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Did own his woaken door, John,</p>
+  <p>When vu'st he shelter'd father's head,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' gramfer's long avore, John.</p>
+  <p>An' many a rambl&egrave;n happy chile,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' chap so strong an' bwold,</p>
+  <p>An' bloom&egrave;n ma&iuml;d wi' pla&yuml;some smile,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Did call their hwome o' wold</p>
+        <p class="i6">Thik ruf so warm,</p>
+        <p class="i6">A kept vrom harm</p>
+  <p>By elem trees that broke the storm.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' in the orcha'd out behind,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The apple-trees in row, John,</p>
+  <p>Did swa&yuml; wi' moss about their rind</p>
+    <p class="i2">Their heads a-nodd&egrave;n low, John.</p>
+  <p>An' there, bezide zome groun' vor corn,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Two strips did skirt the road;</p>
+  <p>In woone the cow did toss her horn,</p>
+    <p class="i2">While tother wer a-mow'd,</p>
+        <p class="i6">In June, below</p>
+        <p class="i6">The lofty row</p>
+  <p>Ov trees that in the hedge did grow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>A-work&egrave;n in our little patch</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' parrock, rathe or le&auml;te, John,</p>
+  <p>We little ho'd how vur mid stratch</p>
+    <p class="i2">The squier's wide este&auml;te, John.</p>
+  <p>Our hearts, so honest an' so true,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Had little vor to fear;</p>
+  <p>Vor we could pay up all their due</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' gi'e a friend good cheer</p>
+        <p class="i6">At hwome, below</p>
+        <p class="i6">The lofty row</p>
+  <p>O' trees a-swa&yuml;&egrave;n to an' fro.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page165" id="page165"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;165</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' there in het, an' there in wet,</p>
+    <p class="i2">We tweil'd wi' busy hands, John;</p>
+  <p>Vor ev'ry stroke o' work we het,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Did better our own lands, John.</p>
+  <p>But after me, ov all my kin,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Not woone can hold em on;</p>
+  <p>Vor we can't get a life put in</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor mine, when I'm a-gone</p>
+        <p class="i6">Vrom thik wold brown</p>
+        <p class="i6">Thatch ruf, a-boun'</p>
+  <p>By elem trees a-grow&egrave;n roun'.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ov eight good hwomes, where, I can mind</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vo'k liv'd upon their land, John,</p>
+  <p>But dree be now a-left behind;</p>
+    <p class="i2">The rest ha' vell in hand, John,</p>
+  <p>An' all the happy souls they ved</p>
+    <p class="i2">Be scatter'd vur an' wide.</p>
+  <p>An' zome o'm be a-want&egrave;n bread,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Zome, better off, ha' died,</p>
+        <p class="i6">Noo mwore to ho,</p>
+        <p class="i6">Vor homes below</p>
+  <p>The trees a-swa&yuml;en to an' fro.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>An' I could le&auml;d ye now all round</p>
+    <p class="i2">The parish, if I would, John,</p>
+  <p>An' show ye still the very ground</p>
+    <p class="i2">Where vive good housen stood, John</p>
+  <p>In broken orcha'ds near the spot,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A vew wold trees do stand;</p>
+  <p>But dew do vall where vo'k woonce zot</p>
+    <p class="i2">About the burn&egrave;n brand</p>
+        <p class="i6">In housen warm,</p>
+        <p class="i6">A-kept vrom harm</p>
+  <p>By elems that did break the storm.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page166" id="page166"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;166]</span>
+
+<h4>THE GUIDE POST.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why thik wold post so long kept out,</p>
+<p>Upon the knap, his e&auml;rms astrout,</p>
+<p>A-zend&egrave;n on the weary veet</p>
+<p>By where the dree cross roads do meet;</p>
+<p>An' I've a-come so much thik woy,</p>
+<p>Wi' happy heart, a man or bwoy,</p>
+<p>That I'd a-me&auml;de, at last, a'm&oacute;st</p>
+<p>A friend o' thik wold guid&egrave;n post.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, wi' woone white e&auml;rm he show'd,</p>
+<p>Down over bridge, the Leyton road;</p>
+<p>Wi' woone, the le&auml;ne a-le&auml;d&egrave;n roun'</p>
+<p>By Bradlinch Hill, an' on to town;</p>
+<p>An' wi' the last, the way to turn</p>
+<p>Drough common down to Rushiburn,&mdash;</p>
+<p>The road I lik'd to goo the mwost</p>
+<p>Ov all upon the guid&egrave;n post.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The Leyton road ha' lofty ranks</p>
+<p>Ov elem trees upon his banks;</p>
+<p>The woone athirt the hill do show</p>
+<p>Us miles o' hedgy me&auml;ds below;</p>
+<p>An' he to Rushiburn is wide</p>
+<p>Wi' strips o' green along his zide,</p>
+<p>An' ouer brown-ruf'd house a-m&oacute;st</p>
+<p>In zight o' thik wold guid&egrave;n post.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the ha&yuml;-me&auml;kers did zwarm</p>
+<p>O' zummer even&egrave;ns out vrom farm.</p>
+<p>The merry ma&iuml;dens an' the chaps,</p>
+<p>A-pe&auml;rt&egrave;n there wi' jokes an' slaps,</p><a name="page167" id="page167"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;167]</span>
+<p>Did goo, zome woone way off, an' zome</p>
+<p>Another, all a-zing&egrave;n hwome;</p>
+<p>Vor vew o'm had to goo, at mwost,</p>
+<p>A mile beyond the guid&egrave;n post.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Poor Nanny Brown, woone darkish night,</p>
+<p>When he'd a-been a-pa&iuml;nted white,</p>
+<p>Wer frighten'd, near the gravel pits,</p>
+<p>So dead's a hammer into fits,</p>
+<p>A-think&egrave;n 'twer the ghost she know'd</p>
+<p>Did come an' haunt the Leyton road;</p>
+<p>Though, after all, poor Nanny's ghost</p>
+<p>Turn'd out to be the guid&egrave;n post.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p167" id="p167"></a>
+
+<h4>GWAIN TO FE&Auml;IR.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>To morrow stir so brisk's you can,</p>
+  <p>An' get your work up under han';</p>
+  <p>Vor I an' Jim, an' Poll's young man,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Shall goo to fe&auml;ir; an' zoo,</p>
+  <p>If you wull let us gi'e ye a e&auml;rm</p>
+  <p>Along the road, or in the zwarm</p>
+  <p>O' vo'k, we'll keep ye out o' harm,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An' gi'e ye a fe&auml;ir&egrave;n too.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>We won't stay le&auml;te there, I'll be boun';</p>
+  <p>We'll bring our she&auml;des off out o' town</p>
+  <p>A mile, avore the zun is down,</p>
+    <p class="i2">If he's a sheen&egrave;n clear.</p>
+  <p>Zoo when your work is all a-done,</p>
+  <p>Your mother can't but let ye run</p>
+  <p>An' zee a little o' the fun,</p>
+    <p class="i2">There's noth&egrave;n there to fear.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page168" id="page168"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;168]</span>
+
+<h4>JE&Auml;NE O' GRENLEY MILL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>When in happy times we met,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Then by look an' deed I show'd,</p>
+  <p>How my love wer all a-zet</p>
+    <p class="i2">In the smiles that she bestow'd.</p>
+  <p>She mid have, o' left an' right,</p>
+  <p>Ma&iuml;dens fe&auml;irest to the zight;</p>
+  <p>I'd a-chose among em still,</p>
+  <p>Pretty Je&auml;ne o' Grenley Mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>She wer fe&auml;irer, by her cows</p>
+    <p class="i2">In her work-day frock a-drest,</p>
+  <p>Than the rest wi' scornvul brows</p>
+    <p class="i2">All a-flant&egrave;n in their best.</p>
+  <p>Ga&yuml; did seem, at fe&auml;st or fe&auml;ir,</p>
+  <p>Zights that I had her to she&auml;re;</p>
+  <p>Ga&yuml; would be my own heart still,</p>
+  <p>But vor Je&auml;ne o' Grenley Mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Je&auml;ne&mdash;a-check&egrave;n ov her love&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Le&auml;n'd to woone that, as she guess'd,</p>
+  <p>Stood in worldly wealth above</p>
+    <p class="i2">Me she know'd she lik'd the best.</p>
+  <p>He wer wild, an' soon run drough</p>
+  <p>All that he'd a-come into,</p>
+  <p>Heartlessly a-treat&egrave;n ill</p>
+  <p>Pretty Je&auml;ne o' Grenley Mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Oh! poor Jenny! thou'st a tore</p>
+    <p class="i2">Hop&egrave;n love vrom my poor heart,</p>
+  <p>Los&egrave;n vrom thy own small store,</p>
+    <p class="i2">All the better, sweeter pe&auml;rt.</p>
+  <p>Hearts a-slighted must vorse&auml;ke</p>
+  <p>Slighters, though a-doom'd to break;</p>
+  <p>I must scorn, but love thee still,</p>
+  <p>Pretty Je&auml;ne o' Grenley Mill.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page169" id="page169"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;169]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Oh! if ever thy soft eyes</p>
+    <p class="i2">Could ha' turn'd vrom outward show,</p>
+  <p>To a lover born to rise</p>
+    <p class="i2">When a higher woone wer low;</p>
+  <p>If thy love, when zoo a-tried,</p>
+  <p>Could ha' stood age&auml;n thy pride,</p>
+  <p>How should I ha' lov'd thee still,</p>
+  <p>Pretty Je&auml;ne o' Grenley Mill.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p169" id="p169"></a>
+
+<h4>THE BELLS OV ALDERBURNHAM.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>While now upon the win' do zwell</p>
+    <p class="i2">The church-bells' even&egrave;n peal, O,</p>
+  <p>Along the bottom, who can tell</p>
+    <p class="i2">How touch'd my heart do veel, O.</p>
+  <p>To hear age&auml;n, as woonce they rung</p>
+  <p>In holidays when I wer young,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Wi' merry sound</p>
+        <p class="i4">A-ring&egrave;n round,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The bells ov Alderburnham.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Vor when they rung their ga&yuml;est peals</p>
+    <p class="i2">O' zome sweet day o' rest, O,</p>
+  <p>We all did ramble drough the viels,</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-dress'd in all our best, O;</p>
+  <p>An' at the bridge or roar&egrave;n weir,</p>
+  <p>Or in the wood, or in the gle&auml;re</p>
+        <p class="i4">Ov open ground,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Did hear ring round</p>
+    <p class="i2">The bells ov Alderburnham.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>They bells, that now do ring above</p>
+    <p class="i2">The young brides at church-door, O,</p>
+  <p>Woonce rung to bless their mother's love,</p>
+    <p class="i2">When they were brides avore, O.</p><a name="page170" id="page170"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;170]</span>
+  <p>An' sons in tow'r do still ring on</p>
+  <p>The merry peals o' fathers gone,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Noo mwore to sound,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Or hear ring round,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The bells ov Alderburnham.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>Ov happy pe&auml;irs, how soon be zome</p>
+    <p class="i2">A-wedded an' a-pe&auml;rted!</p>
+  <p>Vor woone ov ja&yuml;, what peals mid come</p>
+    <p class="i2">To zome o's broken-hearted!</p>
+  <p>The stronger mid the sooner die,</p>
+  <p>The ga&yuml;er mid the sooner sigh;</p>
+        <p class="i4">An' who do know</p>
+        <p class="i4">What grief's below</p>
+    <p class="i2">The bells ov Alderburnham!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+  <p>But still 'tis happiness to know</p>
+    <p class="i2">That there's a God above us;</p>
+  <p>An' he, by day an' night, do ho</p>
+    <p class="i2">Vor all ov us, an' love us,</p>
+  <p>An' call us to His house, to heal</p>
+  <p>Our hearts, by his own Zunday peal</p>
+        <p class="i4">Ov bells a-rung</p>
+        <p class="i4">Vor wold an' young,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The bells ov Alderburnham.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p170" id="p170"></a>
+
+<h4>THE GIRT WOLD HOUSE O' MOSSY STWONE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The girt wold house o' mossy stwone,</p>
+<p>Up there upon the knap alwone,</p>
+<p>Had woonce a ble&auml;z&egrave;n kitch&egrave;n-vier,</p>
+<p>That cook'd vor poor-vo'k an' a squier.</p>
+<p>The very last ov all the re&auml;ce</p>
+<p>That liv'd the squier o' the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Died off when father wer a-born,</p>
+<p>An' now his kin be all vorlorn</p><a name="page171" id="page171"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;171]</span>
+<p>Vor ever,&mdash;vor he left noo son</p>
+<p>To te&auml;ke the house o' mossy stwone.</p>
+<p>An' zoo he vell to other hands,</p>
+<p>An' gramfer took en wi' the lands:</p>
+<p>An' there when he, poor man, wer dead,</p>
+<p>My father shelter'd my young head.</p>
+<p>An' if I wer a squier, I</p>
+<p>Should like to spend my life, an' die</p>
+<p>In thik wold house o' mossy stwone,</p>
+<p>Up there upon the knap alwone.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Don't talk ov housen all o' brick,</p>
+<p>Wi' rock&egrave;n walls nine inches thick,</p>
+<p>A-trigg'd together zide by zide</p>
+<p>In streets, wi' fronts a straddle wide,</p>
+<p>Wi' yards a-sprinkled wi' a mop,</p>
+<p>Too little vor a vrog to hop;</p>
+<p>But let me live an' die where I</p>
+<p>Can zee the ground, an' trees, an' sky.</p>
+<p>The girt wold house o' mossy stwone</p>
+<p>Had wings vor either she&auml;de or zun:</p>
+<p>Woone where the zun did glitter drough,</p>
+<p>When vu'st he struck the morn&egrave;n dew;</p>
+<p>Woone fe&auml;ced the even&egrave;n sky, an' woone</p>
+<p>Push'd out a pworch to zweaty noon:</p>
+<p>Zoo woone stood out to break the storm,</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;de another lew an' warm.</p>
+<p>An' there the timber'd copse rose high,</p>
+<p>Where birds did build an' he&auml;res did lie,</p>
+<p>An' beds o' gr&aelig;gles in the lew,</p>
+<p>Did deck in Ma&yuml; the ground wi' blue.</p>
+<p>An' there wer hills an' slop&egrave;n grounds,</p>
+<p>That they did ride about wi' hounds;</p>
+<p>An' drough the me&auml;d did creep the brook</p>
+<p>Wi' bushy bank an' rushy nook,</p><a name="page172" id="page172"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;172]</span>
+<p>Where perch did lie in she&auml;dy holes</p>
+<p>Below the alder trees, an' shoals</p>
+<p>O' gudgeon darted by, to hide</p>
+<p>Theirzelves in hollows by the zide.</p>
+<p>An' there by le&auml;nes a-wind&egrave;n deep,</p>
+<p>Wer mossy banks a-ris&egrave;n steep;</p>
+<p>An' stwon&egrave;n steps, so smooth an' wide,</p>
+<p>To stiles an' vootpaths at the zide.</p>
+<p>An' there, so big's a little ground,</p>
+<p>The ge&auml;rden wer a-wall'd all round:</p>
+<p>An' up upon the wall wer bars</p>
+<p>A-she&auml;ped all out in wheels an' stars,</p>
+<p>Vor vo'k to walk, an' look out drough</p>
+<p>Vrom trees o' green to hills o' blue.</p>
+<p>An' there wer walks o' pe&auml;vement, broad</p>
+<p>Enough to me&auml;ke a carriage-road,</p>
+<p>Where ste&auml;tely le&auml;dies woonce did use</p>
+<p>To walk wi' hoops an' high-heel shoes,</p>
+<p>When yonder hollow woak wer sound,</p>
+<p>Avore the walls wer ivy-bound,</p>
+<p>Avore the elems met above</p>
+<p>The road between em, where they drove</p>
+<p>Their coach all up or down the road</p>
+<p>A-com&egrave;n hwome or gwa&iuml;n abroad.</p>
+<p>The zummer a&iuml;r o' the&auml;se green hill</p>
+<p>'V a-heav'd in bosoms now all still,</p>
+<p>An' all their hopes an' all their tears</p>
+<p>Be unknown things ov other years.</p>
+<p>But if, in heaven, souls be free</p>
+<p>To come back here; or there can be</p>
+<p>An e'thly ple&auml;ce to me&auml;ke em come</p>
+<p>To zee it vrom a better hwome,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Then what's a-twold us mid be right,</p>
+<p>That still, at dead o' tongueless night,</p>
+<p>Their gauzy she&auml;pes do come an' glide</p>
+<p>By vootways o' their youthvul pride.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page173" id="page173"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;173]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' while the trees do stan' that grow'd</p>
+<p>Vor them, or walls or steps they know'd</p>
+<p>Do bide in ple&auml;ce, they'll always come</p>
+<p>To look upon their e'thly hwome.</p>
+<p>Zoo I would always let alwone</p>
+<p>The girt wold house o' mossy stwone:</p>
+<p>I woulden pull a wing o'n down,</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke ther speechless she&auml;des to frown;</p>
+<p>Vor when our souls, mid woonce become</p>
+<p>Lik' their's, all bodiless an' dumb,</p>
+<p>How good to think that we mid vind</p>
+<p>Zome thought vrom them we left behind,</p>
+<p>An' that zome love mid still unite</p>
+<p>The hearts o' blood wi' souls o' light.</p>
+<p>Zoo, if 'twer mine, I'd let alwone</p>
+<p>The girt wold house o' mossy stwone.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p173" id="p173"></a>
+
+<h4>A WITCH.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There's thik wold hag, Moll Brown, look zee, jus' past!</p>
+<p>I wish the ugly sly wold witch</p>
+<p>Would tumble over into ditch;</p>
+<p>I woulden pull her out not very vast.</p>
+<p>No, no. I don't think she's a bit belied,</p>
+<p>No, she's a witch, aye, Molly's evil-eyed.</p>
+<p>Vor I do know o' many a-withr&egrave;n blight</p>
+<p>A-cast on vo'k by Molly's mutter'd spite;</p>
+<p>She did, woone time, a dreadvul de&auml;l o' harm</p>
+<p>To Farmer Gruff's vo'k, down at Lower Farm.</p>
+<p>Vor there, woone day, they happened to offend her,</p>
+<p>An' not a little to their sorrow,</p>
+<p>Because they woulden gi'e or lend her</p>
+<p>Zome'hat she come to bag or borrow;</p>
+<p>An' zoo, they soon began to vind</p>
+<p>That she'd agone an' left behind</p><a name="page174" id="page174"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;174]</span>
+<p>Her evil wish that had such pow'r,</p>
+<p>That she did me&auml;ke their milk an' e&auml;le turn zour,</p>
+<p>An' addle all the aggs their vowls did lay;</p>
+<p>They coulden vetch the butter in the churn,</p>
+<p>An' all the cheese begun to turn</p>
+<p>All back age&auml;n to curds an' whey;</p>
+<p>The little pigs, a-runn&egrave;n wi' the zow,</p>
+<p>Did zicken, zomehow, noobody know'd how,</p>
+<p>An' vall, an' turn their snouts tow&aacute;rd the sky.</p>
+<p>An' only gi'e woone little grunt, and die;</p>
+<p>An' all the little ducks an' chick&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Wer death-struck out in yard a-pick&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Their bits o' food, an' vell upon their head,</p>
+<p>An' flapp'd their little wings an' drapp'd down dead.</p>
+<p>They coulden fat the calves, they woulden thrive;</p>
+<p>They coulden se&auml;ve their lambs alive;</p>
+<p>Their sheep wer all a-coath'd, or gi'ed noo wool;</p>
+<p>The hosses vell away to skin an' bwones,</p>
+<p>An' got so weak they coulden pull</p>
+<p>A half a peck o' stwones:</p>
+<p>The dog got dead-alive an' drowsy,</p>
+<p>The cat vell zick an' woulden mousy;</p>
+<p>An' every time the vo'k went up to bed,</p>
+<p>They wer a-hag-rod till they wer half dead.</p>
+<p>They us'd to keep her out o' house, 'tis true,</p>
+<p>A-na&iuml;l&egrave;n up at door a hosses shoe;</p>
+<p>An' I've a-he&auml;rd the farmer's wife did try</p>
+<p>To dawk a needle or a pin</p>
+<p>In drough her wold hard wither'd skin,</p>
+<p>An' draw her blood, a-com&egrave;n by:</p>
+<p>But she could never vetch a drap,</p>
+<p>For pins would ply an' needless snap</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n her skin; an' that, in coo'se,</p>
+<p>Did me&auml;ke the hag bewitch em woo'se.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+<hr class="short" /><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page175" id="page175"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;175]</span>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<h3>THE TIMES.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>John an' Tom</i>.</h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, Tom, how be'st? Zoo thou'st a-got thy ne&auml;me</p>
+<p>Among the leaguers, then, as I've a he&auml;rd.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>TOM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, John, I have, John; an' I ben't afe&auml;rd</p>
+<p>To own it. Why, who woulden do the se&auml;me?</p>
+<p>We shant goo on lik' this long, I can tell ye.</p>
+<p>Bread is so high an' wages be so low,</p>
+<p>That, after work&egrave;n lik' a hoss, you know,</p>
+<p>A man can't e&auml;rn enough to vill his belly.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! well! Now there, d'ye know, if I wer sure</p>
+<p>That the&auml;sem men would gi'e me work to do</p>
+<p>All drough the year, an' always pay me mwore</p>
+<p>Than I'm a-e&auml;rn&egrave;n now, I'd jein em too.</p>
+<p>If I wer sure they'd bring down things so cheap,</p>
+<p>That what mid buy a pound o' mutton now</p>
+<p>Would buy the hinder quarters, or the sheep,</p>
+<p>Or what wull buy a pig would buy a cow:</p>
+<p>In short, if they could me&auml;ke a shill&egrave;n goo</p>
+<p>In market just so vur as two,</p>
+<p>Why then, d'ye know, I'd be their man;</p>
+<p>But, hang it! I don't think they can.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page176" id="page176"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;176]</span>
+
+<h5>TOM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why ees they can, though you don't know't,</p>
+<p>An' the&auml;sem men can me&auml;ke it clear.</p>
+<p>Why vu'st they'd zend up members ev'ry year</p>
+<p>To Parli'ment, an' ev'ry man would vote;</p>
+<p>Vor if a fellow midden be a squier,</p>
+<p>He mid be just so fit to vote, an' goo</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke the laws at Lon'on, too,</p>
+<p>As many that do hold their noses higher.</p>
+<p>Why shoulden fellows me&auml;ke good laws an' speeches</p>
+<p>A-dressed in fusti'n cwoats an' cord'roy breeches?</p>
+<p>Or why should hooks an' shovels, zives an' axes,</p>
+<p>Keep any man vrom vot&egrave;n o' the taxes?</p>
+<p>An' when the poor've a-got a she&auml;re</p>
+<p>In me&auml;k&egrave;n laws, they'll te&auml;ke good ce&auml;re</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke some good woones vor the poor.</p>
+<p>Do stan' by reason, John; because</p>
+<p>The men that be to me&auml;ke the laws,</p>
+<p>Will me&auml;ke em vor theirzelves, you mid be sure.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ees, that they wull. The men that you mid trust</p>
+<p>To help you, Tom, would help their own zelves vu'st.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>TOM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, aye. But we would have a better plan</p>
+<p>O' vot&egrave;n, than the woone we got. A man,</p>
+<p>As things be now, d'ye know, can't goo an' vote</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n another man, but he must know't.</p>
+<p>We'll have a box an' balls, vor vot&egrave;n men</p>
+<p>To pop their hands 'ithin, d'ye know; an' then,</p>
+<p>If woone don't happen vor to lik' a man,</p>
+<p>He'll drop a little black ball vrom his han',</p>
+<p>An' zend en hwome age&auml;n. He woon't be led</p>
+<p>To choose a man to te&auml;ke away his bread.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page177" id="page177"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;177]</span>
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But if a man you midden like to 'front,</p>
+<p>Should chance to call upon ye, Tom, zome day,</p>
+<p>An' ax ye vor your vote, what could ye zay?</p>
+<p>Why if you woulden answer, or should grunt</p>
+<p>Or bark, he'd know you'd me&auml;n "I won't."</p>
+<p>To promise woone a vote an' not to gi'e't,</p>
+<p>Is but to be a liar an' a cheat.</p>
+<p>An' then, bezides, when he did count the balls,</p>
+<p>An' vind white promises a-turn'd half black;</p>
+<p>Why then he'd think the voters all a pack</p>
+<p>O' rogues together,&mdash;ev'ry woone o'm false.</p>
+<p>An' if he had the power, very soon</p>
+<p>Perhaps he'd vall upon em, ev'ry woone.</p>
+<p>The times be pinch&egrave;n me, so well as you,</p>
+<p>But I can't tell what ever they can do.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>TOM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why me&auml;ke the farmers gi'e their le&auml;bour&egrave;n men</p>
+<p>Mwore wages,&mdash;half or twice so much age&auml;n</p>
+<p>As what they got.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+             <p class="i12">But, Thomas, you can't me&auml;ke</p>
+<p>A man pay mwore away than he can te&auml;ke.</p>
+<p>If you do me&auml;ke en gi'e, to till a vield,</p>
+<p>So much age&auml;n as what the groun' do yield,</p>
+<p>He'll shut out farm&egrave;n&mdash;or he'll be a goose&mdash;</p>
+<p>An' goo an' put his money out to use.</p>
+<p>Wages be low because the hands be plenty;</p>
+<p>They mid be higher if the hands wer skenty.</p>
+<p>Le&auml;bour, the se&auml;me's the produce o' the yield,</p>
+<p>Do zell at market price&mdash;jist what 'till yield.</p>
+<p>Thou wouldsten gi'e a zixpence, I do guess,</p>
+<p>Vor zix fresh aggs, if zix did zell for less.</p><a name="page178" id="page178"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;178]</span>
+<p>If the&auml;sem vo'k could come an' me&auml;ke mwore lands,</p>
+<p>If they could te&auml;ke wold England in their hands</p>
+<p>An' stratch it out jist twice so big age&auml;n,</p>
+<p>They'd be a-do&egrave;n some'hat vor us then.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>TOM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But if they wer a-zent to Parli'ment</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke the laws, dost know, as I've a-zaid,</p>
+<p>They'd knock the corn-laws on the head;</p>
+<p>An' then the landlards must let down their rent,</p>
+<p>An' we should very soon have cheaper bread:</p>
+<p>Farmers would gi'e less money vor their lands.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, zoo they mid, an' prices mid be low'r</p>
+<p>Vor what their land would yield; an' zoo their hands</p>
+<p>Would be jist where they wer avore.</p>
+<p>An' if the&auml;se men wer all to hold together,</p>
+<p>They coulden me&auml;ke new laws to change the weather!</p>
+<p>They ben't so mighty as to think o' frighten&egrave;n</p>
+<p>The vrost an' ra&iuml;n, the thunder an' the lighten&egrave;n!</p>
+<p>An' as vor me, I don't know what to think</p>
+<p>O' them there fine, big-talk&egrave;n, cunn&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Strange men, a-com&egrave;n down vrom Lon'on.</p>
+<p>Why they don't stint theirzelves, but eat an' drink</p>
+<p>The best at public-house where they do sta&yuml;;</p>
+<p>They don't work gratis, they do get their pa&yuml;.</p>
+<p>They woulden pinch theirzelves to do us good,</p>
+<p>Nor gi'e their money vor to buy us food.</p>
+<p>D'ye think, if we should meet em in the street</p>
+<p>Zome day in Lon'on, they would stand a treat?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>TOM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>They be a-pa&iuml;d, because they be a-zent</p>
+<p>By corn-law vo'k that be the poor man's friends,</p>
+<p>To tell us all how we mid ga&iuml;n our ends,</p>
+<p>A-zend&egrave;n pe&auml;pers up to Parli'ment.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page179" id="page179"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;179]</span>
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! te&auml;ke ce&auml;re how dost trust em.  Dost thou know</p>
+<p>The funny fe&auml;ble o' the pig an' crow?</p>
+<p>Woone time a crow begun to strut an' hop</p>
+<p>About some groun' that men'd a-been a-drill&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Wi' barley or some wheat, in hopes o' vill&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Wi' good fresh corn his empty crop.</p>
+<p>But lik' a thief, he didden like the pa&iuml;ns</p>
+<p>O' work&egrave;n hard to get en a vew gra&iuml;ns;</p>
+<p>Zoo while the sleeky rogue wer there a-hunt&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Wi' little luck, vor corns that mid be vound</p>
+<p>A-peck&egrave;n vor, he he&auml;rd a pig a-grunt&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Just tother zide o' hedge, in tother ground.</p>
+<p>"Ah!" thought the cunn&egrave;n rogue, an' gi'ed a hop,</p>
+<p>"Ah! that's the way vor me to vill my crop;</p>
+<p>Aye, that's the plan, if noth&egrave;n don't defe&auml;t it.</p>
+<p>If I can get thik pig to bring his snout</p>
+<p>In here a bit an' turn the barley out,</p>
+<p>Why, hang it! I shall only have to eat it."</p>
+<p>Wi' that he vled up stra&iuml;ght upon a woak,</p>
+<p>An' bow&egrave;n, lik' a man at hust&egrave;ns, spoke:</p>
+<p>"My friend," zaid he, "that's poorish liv&egrave;n vor ye</p>
+<p>In thik there le&auml;ze. Why I be very zorry</p>
+<p>To zee how they hard-hearted vo'k do sarve ye.</p>
+<p>You can't live there. Why! do they me&auml;n to starve ye?"</p>
+<p>"Ees," zaid the pig, a-grunt&egrave;n, "ees;</p>
+<p>What wi' the hosses an' the geese,</p>
+<p>There's only docks an' thissles here to chaw.</p>
+<p>Instead o' liv&egrave;n well on good warm straw,</p>
+<p>I got to grub out here, where I can't pick</p>
+<p>Enough to me&auml;ke me half an ounce o' flick."</p>
+<p>"Well," zaid the crow, "d'ye know, if you'll stan' that,</p>
+<p>You mussen think, my friend, o' gett&egrave;n fat.</p>
+<p>D'ye want some better keep? Vor if you do,</p>
+<p>Why, as a friend, I be a-come to tell ye,</p><a name="page180" id="page180"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;180]</span>
+<p>That if you'll come an' jus' get drough</p>
+<p>The&auml;se gap up here, why you mid vill your belly.</p>
+<p>Why, they've a-been a-drill&egrave;n corn, d'ye know,</p>
+<p>In the&auml;se here piece o' groun' below;</p>
+<p>An' if you'll just put in your snout,</p>
+<p>An' run en up along a drill,</p>
+<p>Why, hang it! you mid grub it out,</p>
+<p>An' eat, an' eat your vill.</p>
+<p>Their idden any fear that vo'k mid come,</p>
+<p>Vor all the men be jist a-gone in hwome."</p>
+<p>The pig, believ&egrave;n ev'ry single word</p>
+<p>That wer a-twold en by the cunn&egrave;n bird</p>
+<p>Wer only vor his good, an' that 'twer true,</p>
+<p>Just gi'ed a grunt, an' bundled drough,</p>
+<p>An' het his nose, wi' all his might an' ma&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>Right up a drill, a-rout&egrave;n up the gra&iuml;n;</p>
+<p>An' as the cunn&egrave;n crow did gi'e a caw</p>
+<p>A-prais&egrave;n &#333;'n, oh! he did veel so proud!</p>
+<p>An' work'd, an' blow'd, an' toss'd, an' ploughed</p>
+<p>The while the cunn&egrave;n crow did vill his maw.</p>
+<p>An' after work&egrave;n till his bwones</p>
+<p>Did e&auml;che, he soon begun to veel</p>
+<p>That he should never get a meal,</p>
+<p>Unless he dined on dirt an' stwones.</p>
+<p>"Well," zaid the crow, "why don't ye eat?"</p>
+<p>"Eat what, I wonder!" zaid the he&auml;iry plougher.</p>
+<p>A-brisl&egrave;n up an' look&egrave;n rather zour;</p>
+<p>"I don't think dirt an' flints be any treat."</p>
+<p>"Well," zaid the crow, "why you be blind.</p>
+<p>What! don't ye zee how thick the corn do lie</p>
+<p>Among the dirt? An' don't ye zee how I</p>
+<p>Do pick up all that you do le&auml;ve behind?</p>
+<p>I'm zorry that your bill should be so snubby."</p>
+<p>"No," zaid the pig, "methinks that I do zee</p>
+<p>My bill will do uncommon well vor thee,</p>
+<p>Vor thine wull peck, an' mine wull grubby."</p><a name="page181" id="page181"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;181]</span>
+<p>An' just wi' this a-zaid by mister Flick</p>
+<p>To mister Crow, wold John the farmer's man</p>
+<p>Come up, a-zwing&egrave;n in his han'</p>
+<p>A good long knotty stick,</p>
+<p>An' laid it on, wi' all his might,</p>
+<p>The poor pig's vlitches, left an' right;</p>
+<p>While mister Crow, that talk'd so fine</p>
+<p>O' friendship, left the pig behine,</p>
+<p>An' vled away upon a distant tree,</p>
+<p>Vor pigs can only grub, but crows can vlee.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>TOM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, thik there te&auml;le mid do vor childern's books:</p>
+<p>But you wull vind it hardish for ye</p>
+<p>To frighten me, John, wi' a storry</p>
+<p>O' silly pigs an' cunn&egrave;n rooks.</p>
+<p>If we be grubb&egrave;n pigs, why then, I s'pose,</p>
+<p>The farmers an' the girt woones be the crows.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis very odd there idden any friend</p>
+<p>To poor-vo'k hereabout, but men mus' come</p>
+<p>To do us good away from tother end</p>
+<p>Ov England! Han't we any frien's near hwome?</p>
+<p>I mus' zay, Thomas, that 'tis rather odd</p>
+<p>That strangers should become so very civil,&mdash;</p>
+<p>That ouer vo'k be childern o' the Devil,</p>
+<p>An' other vo'k be all the vo'k o' God!</p>
+<p>If we've a-got a friend at all,</p>
+<p>Why who can tell&mdash;I'm sure thou cassen&mdash;</p>
+<p>But that the squier, or the pa'son,</p>
+<p>Mid be our friend, Tom, after all?</p>
+<p>The times be hard, 'tis true! an' they that got</p>
+<p>His bless&egrave;ns, shoulden let theirzelves vorget</p>
+<p>How 'tis where the vo'k do never zet</p>
+<p>A bit o' meat within their rusty pot.</p>
+<a name="page182" id="page182"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;182]</span>
+<p>The man a-zitt&egrave;n in his easy chair</p>
+<p>To flesh, an' vowl, an' vish, should try to spe&auml;re</p>
+<p>The poor the&auml;se times, a little vrom his store;</p>
+<p>An' if he don't, why sin is at his door.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>TOM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! we won't look to that; we'll have our right,&mdash;</p>
+<p>If not by fe&auml;ir me&auml;ns, then we wull by might.</p>
+<p>We'll me&auml;ke times better vor us; we'll be free</p>
+<p>Ov other vo'k an' others' charity.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! I do think you mid as well be quiet;</p>
+<p>You'll me&auml;ke things wo'se, i'-ma'-be, by a riot.</p>
+<p>You'll get into a mess, Tom, I'm afe&auml;rd;</p>
+<p>You'll goo vor wool, an' then come hwome a-she&auml;r'd.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<br />
+
+<br /><hr /><br /><br /><br />
+<a name="page183" id="page183"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;183]</span>
+
+<h1>POEMS OF RURAL LIFE.</h1>
+
+<br /><hr class="short" /><br /><br />
+
+<h2>SECOND COLLECTION.</h2><br /><br />
+<a name="page185" id="page185"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;185]</span>
+
+<h4>BLACKMWORE MAIDENS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The primrwose in the she&auml;de do blow,</p>
+<p>The cowslip in the zun,</p>
+<p>The thyme upon the down do grow,</p>
+<p>The clote where streams do run;</p>
+<p>An' where do pretty ma&iuml;dens grow</p>
+<p>An' blow, but where the tow'r</p>
+<p>Do rise among the bricken tuns,</p>
+<p>In Blackmwore by the Stour.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If you could zee their comely ga&iuml;t,</p>
+<p>An' prett&yuml; fe&auml;ces' smiles,</p>
+<p>A-tripp&egrave;n on so light o' wa&iuml;ght,</p>
+<p>An' stepp&egrave;n off the stiles;</p>
+<p>A-gwa&iuml;n to church, as bells do swing</p>
+<p>An' ring 'ithin the tow'r,</p>
+<p>You'd own the pretty ma&iuml;dens' ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Is Blackmwore by the Stour.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If you vrom Wimborne took your road,</p>
+<p>To Stower or Paladore,</p>
+<p>An' all the farmers' housen show'd</p>
+<p>Their daughters at the door;</p>
+<p>You'd cry to bachelors at hwome&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Here, come: 'ithin an hour</p>
+<p>You'll vind ten ma&iuml;dens to your mind,</p>
+<p>In Blackmwore by the Stour."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' if you look'd 'ithin their door,</p>
+<p>To zee em in their ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<a name="page186" id="page186"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;186]</span>
+<p>A-do&egrave;n housework up avore</p>
+<p>Their smil&egrave;n mother's fe&auml;ce;</p>
+<p>You'd cry&mdash;"Why, if a man would wive</p>
+<p>An' thrive, 'ithout a dow'r,</p>
+<p>Then let en look en out a wife</p>
+<p>In Blackmwore by the Stour."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As I upon my road did pass</p>
+<p>A school-house back in Ma&yuml;,</p>
+<p>There out upon the be&auml;ten grass</p>
+<p>Wer ma&iuml;dens at their pla&yuml;;</p>
+<p>An' as the pretty souls did tweil</p>
+<p>An' smile, I cried, "The flow'r</p>
+<p>O' beauty, then, is still in bud</p>
+<p>In Blackmwore by the Stour."</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p186" id="p186"></a>
+
+<h4>MY ORCHA'D IN LINDEN LEA.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Ithin the woodlands, flow'ry gle&auml;ded,</p>
+<p class="i2">By the woak tree's mossy moot,</p>
+<p>The sheen&egrave;n grass-ble&auml;des, timber-she&auml;ded,</p>
+<p class="i2">Now do quiver under voot;</p>
+<p>An' birds do whissle over head,</p>
+<p>An' water's bubbl&egrave;n in its bed,</p>
+<p>An' there vor me the apple tree</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;n down low in Linden Lea.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When leaves that le&auml;tely wer a-spring&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Now do fe&auml;de 'ithin the copse,</p>
+<p>An' pa&iuml;nted birds do hush their zing&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Up upon the timber's tops;</p>
+<p>An' brown-leav'd fruit's a-turn&egrave;n red,</p>
+<p>In cloudless zunsheen, over head,</p>
+<p>Wi' fruit vor me, the apple tree</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;n down low in Linden Lea.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page187" id="page187"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;187]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Let other vo'k me&auml;ke money vaster</p>
+<p class="i2">In the a&iuml;r o' dark-room'd towns,</p>
+<p>I don't dread a peevish me&auml;ster;</p>
+<p class="i2">Though noo man do heed my frowns,</p>
+<p>I be free to goo abrode,</p>
+<p>Or te&auml;ke age&auml;n my hwomeward road</p>
+<p>To where, vor me, the apple tree</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;n down low in Linden Lea.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p187" id="p187"></a>
+
+<h4>BISHOP'S CAUNDLE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>At peace day, who but we should goo</p>
+<p>To Caundle vor an' hour or two:</p>
+<p>As ga&yuml; a day as ever broke</p>
+<p>Above the heads o' Caundle vo'k,</p>
+<p>Vor peace, a-come vor all, did come</p>
+<p>To them wi' two new friends at hwome.</p>
+<p>Zoo while we kept, wi' nimble pe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>The wold dun tow'r avore our fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>The a&iuml;r, at last, begun to come</p>
+<p>Wi' drubb&egrave;ns ov a be&auml;ten drum;</p>
+<p>An' then we he&auml;rd the horns' loud droats</p>
+<p>Pla&yuml; off a tuen's upper notes;</p>
+<p>An' then age&auml;n a-ris&egrave;n che&auml;rm</p>
+<p>Vrom tongues o' people in a zwarm:</p>
+<p>An' zoo, at last, we stood among</p>
+<p>The merry fe&auml;ces o' the drong.</p>
+<p>An' there, wi' garlands all a-tied</p>
+<p>In wreaths an' bows on every zide,</p>
+<p>An' color'd flags, a fluttr&egrave;n high</p>
+<p>An' bright avore the sheen&egrave;n sky,</p>
+<p>The very guide-post wer a-drest</p>
+<p>Wi' posies on his e&auml;rms an' breast.</p>
+<p>At last, the vo'k zwarm'd in by scores</p></div>
+
+<a name="page188" id="page188"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;188]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' hundreds droo the high barn-doors,</p>
+<p>To dine on English fe&auml;re, in ranks,</p>
+<p>A-zot on chairs, or stools, or planks,</p>
+<p>By bwoards a-reach&egrave;n, row an' row,</p>
+<p>Wi' cloths so white as driven snow.</p>
+<p>An' while they took, wi' merry cheer,</p>
+<p>Their ple&auml;ces at the meat an' beer,</p>
+<p>The band did blow an' be&auml;t aloud</p>
+<p>Their merry tu&egrave;ns to the crowd;</p>
+<p>An' slowly-zwing&egrave;n flags did spread</p>
+<p>Their hang&egrave;n colors over head.</p>
+<p>An' then the vo'k, wi' ja&yuml; an' pride,</p>
+<p>Stood up in stillness, zide by zide,</p>
+<p>Wi' downcast heads, the while their friend</p>
+<p>Rose up avore the te&auml;ble's end,</p>
+<p>An' zaid a timely gre&auml;ce, an' blest</p>
+<p>The welcome meat to every guest.</p>
+<p>An' then arose a mingled na&iuml;se</p>
+<p>O' knives an' ple&auml;tes, an' cups an' tra&yuml;s,</p>
+<p>An' tongues wi' merry tongues a-drown'd</p>
+<p>Below a deaf'n&egrave;n storm o' sound.</p>
+<p>An' zoo, at last, their worthy host</p>
+<p>Stood up to gi'e em all a twoast,</p>
+<p>That they did drink, wi' shouts o' glee,</p>
+<p>An' whirl&egrave;n e&auml;rms to dree times dree.</p>
+<p>An' when the bwoards at last wer be&auml;re</p>
+<p>Ov all the cloths an' goodly fe&auml;re,</p>
+<p>An' froth noo longer rose to zwim</p>
+<p>Within the beer-mugs sheen&egrave;n rim,</p>
+<p>The vo'k, a-stream&egrave;n drough the door,</p>
+<p>Went out to ge&auml;mes they had in store</p>
+<p>An' on the blue-re&auml;v'd waggon's bed,</p>
+<p>Above his vower wheels o' red,</p>
+<p>Musicians zot in rows, an' pla&yuml;'d</p>
+<p>Their tu&egrave;ns up to chap an' ma&iuml;d,</p>
+<p>That be&auml;t, wi' pla&yuml;some tooes an' heels,</p></div>
+
+<a name="page189" id="page189"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;189]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The level ground in nimble reels.</p>
+<p>An' zome age&auml;n, a-zet in line,</p>
+<p>An' start&egrave;n at a given sign,</p>
+<p>Wi' outreach'd breast, a-breath&egrave;n quick</p>
+<p>Droo op'n&egrave;n lips, did nearly kick</p>
+<p>Their polls, a-runn&egrave;n sich a pe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Wi' stream&egrave;n he&auml;ir, to win the re&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>An' in the house, an' on the green,</p>
+<p>An' in the shrubb'ry's leafy screen,</p>
+<p>On ev'ry zide we met sich lots</p>
+<p>O' smil&egrave;n friends in happy knots,</p>
+<p>That I do think, that drough the fe&auml;st</p>
+<p>In Caundle, vor a day at le&auml;st,</p>
+<p>You woudden vind a scowl&egrave;n fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Or dumpy heart in all the ple&auml;ce.</p>
+ </div>
+ </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p189" id="p189"></a>
+
+<h4>HAY MEAKEN&mdash;NUNCHEN TIME.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>Anne an' John a-ta'k&egrave;n o't.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. Back here, but now, the jobber John</p>
+<p class="i2"> Come by, an' cried, "Well done, zing on,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I thought as I come down the hill,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' he&auml;rd your zongs a-ring&egrave;n sh'ill,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Who woudden like to come, an' fling</p>
+<p class="i2"> A pe&auml;ir o' prongs where you did zing?"</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Aye, aye, he woudden vind it pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p class="i2"> To work all day a-me&auml;k&egrave;n ha&yuml;,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or pitch&egrave;n o't, to e&auml;rms a-spread</p>
+<p class="i2"> By lwoaders, yards above his head,</p>
+<p class="i2"> 'T'ud me&auml;ke en wipe his dripp&egrave;n brow.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. Or else a-re&auml;ken after plow.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Or work&egrave;n, wi' his nimble pick,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A-stiffled wi' the ha&yuml;, at rick.</p>
+</div>
+
+<a name="page190" id="page190"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;190]</span>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. Our Company would suit en best,</p>
+<p class="i2"> When we do te&auml;ke our bit o' rest,</p>
+<p class="i2"> At nunch, a-gather'd here below</p>
+<p class="i2"> The she&auml;de the&auml;se wide-bough'd woak do drow,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where hiss&egrave;n froth mid rise, an' float</p>
+<p class="i2"> In horns o' e&auml;le, to wet his droat.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Aye, if his zwell&egrave;n han' could drag</p>
+<p class="i2"> A meat-slice vrom his dinner bag.</p>
+<p class="i2"> 'T'ud me&auml;ke the busy little chap</p>
+<p class="i2"> Look rather glum, to zee his lap</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wi' all his meal ov woone dry croust,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' vinny cheese so dry as doust.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. Well, I don't grumble at my food,</p>
+<p class="i2"> 'Tis wholesome, John, an' zoo 'tis good.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Whose re&auml;ke is that a-ly&egrave;n there?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Do look a bit the woo'se vor wear.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. Oh! I mus' get the man to me&auml;ke</p>
+<p class="i2"> A tooth or two vor thik wold re&auml;ke,</p>
+<p class="i2"> 'Tis le&auml;bour lost to strik a stroke</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wi' him, wi' half his teeth a-broke.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. I should ha' thought your han' too fine</p>
+<p class="i2"> To break your re&auml;ke, if I broke mine.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. The ramsclaws thin'd his wooden gum</p>
+<p class="i2"> O' two teeth here, an' here were zome</p>
+<p class="i2"> That broke when I did re&auml;ke a patch</p>
+<p class="i2"> O' groun' wi' Jimmy, vor a match:</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' here's a gap ov woone or two</p>
+<p class="i2"> A-broke by Simon's clumsy shoe,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' when I gi'ed his poll a poke,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Vor better luck, another broke.</p>
+<p class="i2"> In what a veag have you a-swung</p>
+<p class="i2"> Your pick, though, John? His stem's a-sprung.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page191" id="page191"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;191]</span>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. When I an' Simon had a het</p>
+<p class="i2"> O' pook&egrave;n, yonder, vor a bet,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The prongs o'n gi'ed a tump a poke,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' then I vound the stem a-broke,</p>
+<p class="i2"> B&ucirc;t they do me&auml;ke the stems o' picks</p>
+<p class="i2"> O' stuff so brittle as a kicks.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. There's poor wold Je&auml;ne, wi' wrinkled skin,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A-tell&egrave;n, wi' her peak&egrave;d chin,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Zome te&auml;le ov her young days, poor soul.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Do me&auml;ke the young-woones smile. 'Tis droll.</p>
+<p class="i2"> What is it? Stop, an' let's goo near.</p>
+<p class="i2"> I do like the&auml;se wold te&auml;les. Let's hear.</p>
+  </div></div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p191" id="p191"></a>
+
+<h4>A FATHER OUT, AN' MOTHER HWOME.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The snow-white clouds did float on high</p>
+<p>In shoals avore the sheen&egrave;n sky,</p>
+<p>An' runn&egrave;n we&auml;ves in pon' did che&auml;se</p>
+<p>Each other on the water's fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>As huffl&egrave;n win' did blow between</p>
+<p>The new-leav'd boughs o' sheen&egrave;n green.</p>
+<p>An' there, the while I walked along</p>
+<p>The path, drough le&auml;ze, above the drong,</p>
+<p>A little ma&iuml;d, wi' bloom&egrave;n fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Went on up hill wi' nimble pe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>A-le&auml;n&egrave;n to the right-han' zide,</p>
+<p>To car a basket that did ride,</p>
+<p>A-hang&egrave;n down, wi' all his heft,</p>
+<p>Upon her elbow at her left.</p>
+<p>An' yet she hardly seem'd to bruise</p>
+<p>The grass-ble&auml;des wi' her tiny shoes,</p>
+<p>That pass'd each other, left an' right.</p>
+<p>In steps a'most too quick vor zight.</p>
+<p>But she'd a-left her mother's door</p>
+<p>A-bear&egrave;n vrom her little store</p></div>
+
+<a name="page192" id="page192"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;192]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Her father's welcome bit o' food,</p>
+<p>Where he wer out at work in wood;</p>
+<p>An' she wer bless'd wi' mwore than zwome&mdash;</p>
+<p>A father out, an' mother hwome.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, a-vell'd 'ithin the copse,</p>
+<p>Below the timber's new-leav'd tops,</p>
+<p>Wer ash&egrave;n poles, a-cast&egrave;n stra&iuml;ght,</p>
+<p>On primrwose beds, their langthy wa&iuml;ght;</p>
+<p>Below the yollow light, a-shed</p>
+<p>Drough boughs upon the vi'let's head,</p>
+<p>By clim&egrave;n ivy, that did reach,</p>
+<p>A sheen&egrave;n roun' the dead-leav'd beech.</p>
+<p>An' there her father zot, an' me&auml;de</p>
+<p>His hwomely meal bezide a gle&auml;de;</p>
+<p>While she, a-croop&egrave;n down to ground,</p>
+<p>Did pull the flowers, where she vound</p>
+<p>The droop&egrave;n vi'let out in blooth,</p>
+<p>Or yollow primrwose in the lewth,</p>
+<p>That she mid car em proudly back,</p>
+<p>An' zet em on her mother's tack;</p>
+<p>Vor she wer bless'd wi' mwore than zwome&mdash;</p>
+<p>A father out, an' mother hwome.</p>
+<p>A father out, an' mother hwome,</p>
+<p>Be bless&egrave;ns soon a-lost by zome;</p>
+<p>A-lost by me, an' zoo I pray'd</p>
+<p>They mid be spe&auml;r'd the little ma&iuml;d.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p192" id="p192"></a>
+
+<h4>RIDDLES.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>Anne an' Joey a-ta'ken.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. A plague! the&auml;se cow wont stand a bit,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Noo sooner do she zee me zit</p>
+<p class="i2"> Age&auml;n her, than she's in a trot,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A-runn&egrave;n to zome other spot.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page193" id="page193"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;193]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Why 'tis the dog do sce&auml;re the cow,</p>
+<p class="i2"> He worried her a-vield benow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. Goo in, Ah! &nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Liplap</i>, where's your ta&iuml;l!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. He's off, then up athirt the ra&iuml;l.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Your cow there, Anne's a-come to hand</p>
+<p class="i2"> A goodish milcher. &nbsp;&nbsp;A. If she'd stand,   </p>
+<p class="i2"> But then she'll ste&auml;re an' start wi' fright</p>
+<p class="i2"> To zee a dumbledore in flight.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Last week she het the pa&iuml;l a flought,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' flung my meal o' milk half out.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Ha! Ha! &nbsp;&nbsp;But Anny, here, what lout</p>
+<p class="i2"> Broke half your small pa&iuml;l's bottom out?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. What lout indeed! &nbsp;&nbsp;What, do ye own</p>
+<p class="i2"> The ne&auml;me? &nbsp;&nbsp;What dropp'd en on a stwone?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Hee! Hee! &nbsp;&nbsp;Well now he's out o' trim</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wi' only half a bottom to en;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Could you still vill en' to the brim</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' yit not let the milk run drough en?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. Aye, as for nonsense, Joe, your head</p>
+<p class="i2"> Do hold it all so tight's a blather,</p>
+<p class="i2"> But if 'tis any good, do shed</p>
+<p class="i2"> It all so le&auml;ky as a lather.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Could you vill pa&iuml;ls 'ithout a bottom,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Yourself that be so deeply skill'd?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Well, ees, I could, if I'd a-got em</p>
+<p class="i2"> Inside o' bigger woones a-vill'd.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. La! that <i>is</i> zome'hat vor to hatch!</p>
+<p class="i2"> Here answer me the&auml;se little catch.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Down under water an' o' top o't</p>
+<p class="i2"> I went, an' didden touch a drop o't,</p></div>
+
+<a name="page194" id="page194"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;194]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Not when at mow&egrave;n time I took</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' pull'd ye out o' Longme&auml;d brook,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where you'd a-slidder'd down the edge</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' zunk knee-deep bezide the zedge,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A-try&egrave;n to re&auml;ke out a clote.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. Aye I do hear your chuckl&egrave;n droat</p>
+<p class="i2"> When I athirt the brudge did bring</p>
+<p class="i2"> Zome water on my head vrom spring.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Then under water an' o' top o't,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wer I an' didden touch a drop o't.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. O Lauk! &nbsp;&nbsp;What thik wold riddle still,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Why that's as wold as Duncliffe Hill;</p>
+<p class="i2"> "A two-lagg'd thing do run avore</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' run behind a man,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' never run upon his lags</p>
+<p class="i2"> Though on his lags do stan'.</p>
+<p class="i4"> What's that?</p>
+<p class="i4"> I don't think you do know.</p>
+<p class="i2"> There idden sich a thing to show.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Not know? &nbsp;&nbsp;Why yonder by the stall</p>
+<p class="i2"> 'S a wheel-barrow bezide the wall,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Don't he stand on his lags so trim,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' run on noth&egrave;n but his wheels wold rim.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. There's <i>horn</i> vor Goodman's eye-zight se&auml;ke;</p>
+<p class="i2"> There's <i>horn</i> vor Goodman's mouth to te&auml;ke;</p>
+<p class="i2"> There's <i>horn</i> vor Goodman's ears, as well</p>
+<p class="i2"> As <i>horn</i> vor Goodman's nose to smell&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> What <i>horns</i> be they, then? &nbsp;&nbsp;Do your hat</p>
+<p class="i2"> Hold wit enough to tell us that?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Oh! <i>horns</i>! but no, I'll tell ye what,</p>
+<p class="i2"> My cow is hornless, an' she's <i>knot</i>.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. <i>Horn</i> vor the <i>mouth's</i> a horn&egrave;n cup.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page195" id="page195"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;195]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. An' e&auml;le's good stuff to vill en up.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. An' <i>horn</i> vor <i>eyes</i> is horn vor light,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Vrom Goodman's lantern after night;</p>
+<p class="i2"> <i>Horn</i> vor the <i>ears</i> is woone to sound</p>
+<p class="i2"> Vor hunters out wi' ho'se an' hound;</p>
+<p class="i2"> But <i>horn</i> that vo'k do buy to smell o'</p>
+<p class="i2"> Is <i>hart's-horn</i>. &nbsp;&nbsp;J. Is it? &nbsp;&nbsp;What d'ye tell o'</p>
+<p class="i2"> How proud we be, vor ben't we smart?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Aye, <i>horn</i> is <i>horn</i>, an' hart is hart.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Well here then, Anne, while we be at it,</p>
+<p class="i2"> 'S a ball vor you if you can bat it.</p>
+<p class="i2"> On dree-lags, two-lags, by the zide</p>
+<p class="i2"> O' vower-lags, woonce did zit wi' pride,</p>
+<p class="i2"> When vower-lags, that velt a prick,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Vrom zix-lags, het two lags a kick.</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' two an' dree-lags vell, all vive,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Slap down, zome dead an' zome alive.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. Teeh! heeh! what have ye now then, Joe,</p>
+<p class="i2"> At last, to me&auml;ke a riddle o'?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Your dree-lagg'd stool woone night did bear</p>
+<p class="i2"> Up you a milk&egrave;n wi' a pe&auml;ir;</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' there a zix-lagg'd stout did prick</p>
+<p class="i2"> Your vow'r-lagg'd cow, an me&auml;ke her kick,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A-hett&egrave;n, wi' a pretty pat,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Your stool an' you so flat's a mat.</p>
+<p class="i2"> You scrambled up a little dirty,</p>
+<p class="i2"> But I do hope it didden hurt ye.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. You hope, indeed! a likely ce&auml;se,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wi' thik broad grin athirt your fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2"> You saucy good-vor-noth&egrave;n chap,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I'll gi'e your grinn&egrave;n fe&auml;ce a slap,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Your drawl&egrave;n tongue can only run</p>
+<p class="i2"> To turn a body into fun.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page196" id="page196"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;196]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>J. Oh! I woont do 't age&auml;n. &nbsp;&nbsp;Oh dear!</p>
+<p class="i2"> Till next time, Anny. &nbsp;&nbsp;Oh my ear!</p>
+<p class="i2"> Oh! Anne, why you've a-het my hat</p>
+<p class="i2"> 'Ithin the milk, now look at that.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A. Do sar ye right, then, I don't ce&auml;re.</p>
+<p class="i2"> I'll thump your noddle,&mdash;there&mdash;there&mdash;there.</p>
+  </div></div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p196" id="p196"></a>
+
+<h4>DAY'S WORK A-DONE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And oh! the ja&yuml; our rest did yield,</p>
+<p class="i2">At even&egrave;n by the mossy wall,</p>
+<p>When we'd a-work'd all day a-vield,</p>
+<p class="i2">While zummer zuns did rise an' vall;</p>
+<p class="i4">As there a-lett&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i4">Goo all frett&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>An' vorgett&egrave;n all our tweils,</p>
+<p>We zot among our childern's smiles.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' under skies that glitter'd white,</p>
+<p class="i2">The while our smoke, aris&egrave;n blue,</p>
+<p>Did melt in ai&euml;r, out o' zight,</p>
+<p class="i2">Above the trees that kept us lew;</p>
+<p class="i4">Wer birds a-zing&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i4">Tongues a-ring&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Childern spring&egrave;n, vull o' ja&yuml;,</p>
+<p>A-finish&egrave;n the day in pla&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' back behind, a-stann&egrave;n tall,</p>
+<p class="i2">The cliff did sheen to western light;</p>
+<p>An' while avore the water-vall,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-rottl&egrave;n loud, an' foam&egrave;n white.</p>
+<p class="i4">The leaves did quiver,</p>
+<p class="i4">Gnots did whiver,</p>
+<p>By the river, where the pool,</p>
+<p>In even&egrave;n a&iuml;r did glissen cool.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page197" id="page197"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;197]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' childern there, a-runn&egrave;n wide,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did pla&yuml; their ge&auml;mes along the grove,</p>
+<p>Vor though to us 'twer ja&yuml; to bide</p>
+<p class="i2">At rest, to them 'twer ja&yuml; to move.</p>
+<p class="i4">The while my smil&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i4">Je&auml;ne, beguil&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>All my tweil&egrave;n, wi' her ce&auml;re,</p>
+<p>Did call me to my even&egrave;n fe&auml;re.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p197-1" id="p197-1"></a>
+
+<h4>LIGHT OR SHE&Auml;DE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A Ma&yuml;tide's even&egrave;n wer a-dy&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Under moonsheen, into night,</p>
+<p>Wi' a stream&egrave;n wind a-sigh&egrave;n</p>
+<p>By the thorns a-bloom&egrave;n white.</p>
+<p>Where in she&auml;de, a-zink&egrave;n deeply,</p>
+<p>Wer a nook, all dark but lew,</p>
+<p>By a bank, aris&egrave;n steeply,</p>
+<p>Not to let the win' come drough.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Should my love goo out, a-show&egrave;n</p>
+<p>All her smiles, in open light;</p>
+<p>Or, in lewth, wi' wind a-blow&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Sta&yuml; in darkness, dim to zight?</p>
+<p>Sta&yuml; in she&auml;de o' bank or wall&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>In the warmth, if not in light;</p>
+<p>Words alwone vrom her a-vall&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Would be ja&yuml; vor all the night.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p197-2" id="p197-2"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WAGGON A-STOODED.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>Dree o'm a-ta'k&egrave;n o't.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Well, here we be, then, wi' the vu'st poor lwoad</p>
+<p class="i4">O' vuzz we brought, a-stood&egrave;d in the road.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page198" id="page198"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;198]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(2) The road, George, no. &nbsp;&nbsp;There's na'r a road. &nbsp;&nbsp;That's wrong.</p>
+<p class="i4">If we'd a road, we mid ha' got along.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Noo road! &nbsp;&nbsp;Ees 'tis, the road that we do goo.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(2) Do goo, George, no. &nbsp;&nbsp;The ple&auml;ce we can't get drough.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Well, there, the vu'st lwoad we've a-haul'd to day</p>
+<p class="i4">Is here a-stood&egrave;d in the&auml;se bed o' clay.</p>
+<p class="i4">Here's rotten groun'! an' how the wheels do cut!</p>
+<p class="i4">The little woone's a-zunk up to the nut.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) An' yeet this rotten groun' don't reach a lug.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Well, come, then, gi'e the plow another tug.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(2) They me&auml;res wull never pull the waggon out,</p>
+<p class="i4">A-lwoaded, an' a-stood&egrave;d in thik rout.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) We'll try. &nbsp;&nbsp;Come, <i>Smiler</i>, come! &nbsp;&nbsp;C'up, <i>Whitevoot</i>, gee!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(2) White-voot wi' lags all over mud! &nbsp;&nbsp;Hee! Hee!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) 'Twoon't wag. &nbsp;&nbsp;We shall but snap our gear,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' overstra&iuml;n the me&auml;res. 'Twoon't wag, 'tis clear.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) That's your work, William. &nbsp;&nbsp;No, in coo'se, 'twoon't wag.</p>
+<p class="i4">Why did ye dr&#275;ve en into the&auml;se here quag?</p>
+<p class="i4">The vore-wheels be a-zunk above the nuts.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) What then? &nbsp;&nbsp;I coulden le&auml;ve the be&auml;ten track,</p>
+<p class="i4">To turn the waggon over on the back</p>
+<p class="i4">Ov woone o' the&auml;sem wheel-high emmet-butts.</p>
+<p class="i4">If you be sich a dr&#275;ver, an' do know't,</p>
+<p class="i4">You dr&#275;ve the plow, then; but you'll overdrow 't.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) I dr&#275;ve the plow, indeed! &nbsp;&nbsp;Oh! ees, what, now</p>
+<p class="i4">The wheels woont wag, then, <i>I</i> mid dr&#275;ve the plow!</p>
+<p class="i4">We'd better dig away the groun' below</p>
+<p class="i4">The wheels. &nbsp;&nbsp;(2) There's na'r a spe&auml;de to dig wi'.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) An' te&auml;ke an' cut a lock o' frith, an' drow</p>
+<p class="i4">Upon the clay. &nbsp;&nbsp;(2) Nor hook to cut a twig wi'.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page199" id="page199"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;199]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Oh! here's a bwoy a-com&egrave;n. &nbsp;&nbsp;Here, my lad,</p>
+<p class="i4">Dost know vor a'r a spe&auml;de, that can be had?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(B) At father's. &nbsp;(1) Well, where's that? &nbsp;&nbsp;(Bwoy) At Sam'el Riddick's.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Well run, an' ax vor woone. &nbsp;&nbsp;Fling up your heels,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' mind: a spe&auml;de to dig out the&auml;sem wheels,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' hook to cut a little lock o' widdicks.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) Why, we shall want zix ho'ses, or a dozen,</p>
+<p class="i4">To pull the waggon out, wi' all the&auml;se vuzzen.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Well, we mus' lighten en; come, Je&auml;mes, then, hop</p>
+<p class="i4">Upon the lwoad, an' jus' fling off the top.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(2) If I can clim' en; but 'tis my consa&iuml;t,</p>
+<p class="i4">That I shall overzet en wi' my wa&iuml;ght.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) You overzet en! &nbsp;&nbsp;No, Je&auml;mes, he won't vall,</p>
+<p class="i4">The lwoad's a-built so firm as any wall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(2) Here! lend a hand or shoulder vor my knee</p>
+<p class="i4">Or voot. &nbsp;&nbsp;I'll scramble to the top an' zee</p>
+<p class="i4">What I can do. Well, here I be, among</p>
+<p class="i4">The fakkets, vor a bit, but not vor long.</p>
+<p class="i4">Heigh, George! &nbsp;&nbsp;Ha! ha! Why this wull never stand.</p>
+<p class="i4">Your firm 's a wall, is all so loose as zand;</p>
+<p class="i4">'Tis all a-come to pieces. &nbsp;&nbsp;Oh! Te&auml;ke ce&auml;re!</p>
+<p class="i4">Ho! I'm a-vall&egrave;n, vuzz an' all! Ha&euml;! There!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Lo'k there, thik fellor is a-vell lik' lead,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' half the fuzzen wi 'n, heels over head!</p>
+<p class="i4">There's all the vuzz a-ly&egrave;n lik' a staddle,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' he a-de&auml;b'd wi' mud. &nbsp;&nbsp;Oh! Here's a caddle!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) An' zoo you soon got down zome vuzzen, Jimmy.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(2) Ees, I do know 'tis down. I brought it wi' me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) Your lwoad, George, wer a rather slick-built thing,</p>
+<p class="i4">But there, 'twer prickly vor the hands! &nbsp;&nbsp;Did sting?</p></div>
+
+<a name="page200" id="page200"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;200]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Oh! ees, d'ye te&auml;ke me vor a nincompoop,</p>
+<p class="i4">No, no. &nbsp;&nbsp;The lwoad wer up so firm's a rock,</p>
+<p class="i4">But two o' the&auml;sem emmet-butts would knock</p>
+<p class="i4">The tightest barrel nearly out o' hoop.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) Oh! now then, here 's the bwoy a-bring&egrave;n back</p>
+<p class="i4">The spe&auml;de. &nbsp;&nbsp;Well done, my man. &nbsp;&nbsp;That idder slack.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(2) Well done, my lad, sha't have a ho'se to ride</p>
+<p class="i4">When thou'st a me&auml;re. &nbsp;&nbsp;(Bwoy) Next never's-tide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) Now let's dig out a spit or two</p>
+<p class="i4">O' clay, a-vore the little wheels;</p>
+<p class="i4">Oh! so's, I can't pull up my heels,</p>
+<p class="i4">I be a-stogg'd up over shoe.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Come, William, dig away! &nbsp;&nbsp;Why you do spuddle</p>
+<p class="i4">A'most so weak's a child. &nbsp;&nbsp;How you do muddle!</p>
+<p class="i4">Gi'e me the spe&auml;de a-bit. &nbsp;&nbsp;A pig would rout</p>
+<p class="i4">It out a'most so nimbly wi' his snout.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) Oh! so's, d'ye hear it, then. &nbsp;&nbsp;How we can thunder!</p>
+<p class="i4">How big we be, then George! what next I wonder?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Now, William, gi'e the waggon woone mwore twitch,</p>
+<p class="i4">The wheels be free, an' 'tis a lighter nitch.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) Come, <i>Smiler</i>, gee! C'up, <i>White-voot</i>. &nbsp;&nbsp;(1) That wull do.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(2) Do wag. &nbsp;&nbsp;(1) Do goo at last. &nbsp;&nbsp;(3) Well done. &nbsp;&nbsp;'Tis drough.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) Now, William, till you have mwore ho'ses' lags,</p>
+<p class="i4">Don't dr&#275;ve the waggon into the&auml;sem quags.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(3) You build your lwoads up tight enough to ride.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) I can't do less, d'ye know, wi' you vor guide.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+<br /><br />
+
+<a name="page201" id="page201"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;201]</span>
+
+<h4>GWA&Iuml;N DOWN THE STEPS VOR WATER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>While zuns do roll vrom east to west</p>
+<p>To bring us work, or le&auml;ve us rest,</p>
+<p>There down below the steep hill-zide,</p>
+<p>Drough time an' tide, the spring do flow;</p>
+<p>An' mothers there, vor years a-gone,</p>
+<p>Lik' daughters now a-com&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>To bloom when they be weak an' wan,</p>
+<p>Went down the steps vor water.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' what do yonder ringers tell</p>
+<p>A-ring&egrave;n changes, bell by bell;</p>
+<p>Or what's a-show'd by yonder zight</p>
+<p>O' vo'k in white, upon the road,</p>
+<p>But that by John o' Woodleys zide,</p>
+<p>There's now a-blush&egrave;n vor his bride,</p>
+<p>A pretty ma&iuml;d that vu'st he spied,</p>
+<p>Gwa&iuml;n down the steps vor water.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Though she, 'tis true, is fe&auml;ir an' kind,</p>
+<p>There still be mwore a-left behind;</p>
+<p>So cle&auml;n 's the light the zun do gi'e,</p>
+<p>So sprack 's a bee when zummer's bright;</p>
+<p>An' if I've luck, I woont be slow</p>
+<p>To te&auml;ke off woone that I do know,</p>
+<p>A-tripp&egrave;n ga&iuml;ly to an' fro,</p>
+<p>Upon the steps vor water.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Her father idden poor&mdash;but vew</p>
+<p>In parish be so well to do;</p>
+<p>Vor his own cows do swing their ta&iuml;ls</p>
+<p>Behind his pa&iuml;ls, below his boughs:</p>
+<p>An' then age&auml;n to win my love,</p>
+<p>Why, she's as hwomely as a dove,</p>
+<p>An' don't hold up herzelf above</p>
+<p>Gwa&iuml;n down the steps vor water.</p></div>
+
+<a name="page202" id="page202"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;202]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Gwa&iuml;n down the steps vor water! No!</p>
+<p>How handsome it do me&auml;ke her grow.</p>
+<p>If she'd be stra&iuml;ght, or walk abrode,</p>
+<p>To tread her road wi' comely ga&iuml;t,</p>
+<p>She coulden do a better thing</p>
+<p>To zet herzelf upright, than bring</p>
+<p>Her pitcher on her head, vrom spring</p>
+<p>Upon the steps, wi' water.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No! don't ye ne&auml;me in woone se&auml;me breath</p>
+<p>Wi' bachelors, the husband's he'th;</p>
+<p>The happy ple&auml;ce, where vingers thin</p>
+<p>Do pull woone's chin, or pat woone's fe&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>But still the ble&auml;me is their's, to slight</p>
+<p>Their happiness, wi' such a zight</p>
+<p>O' ma&iuml;dens, morn&egrave;n, noon, an' night,</p>
+<p>A-gwa&iuml;n down steps vor water.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p202" id="p202"></a>
+
+<h4>ELLEN BRINE OV ALLENBURN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Noo soul did hear her lips compla&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>An' she's a-gone vrom all her pa&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>An' others' loss to her is ga&iuml;n</p>
+<p>For she do live in heaven's love;</p>
+<p>Vull many a longsome day an' week</p>
+<p>She bore her a&iuml;l&egrave;n, still, an' meek;</p>
+<p>A-work&egrave;n while her strangth held on,</p>
+<p>An' guid&egrave;n housework, when 'twer gone.</p>
+<p>Vor Ellen Brine ov Allenburn,</p>
+<p>Oh! there be souls to murn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The last time I'd a-cast my zight</p>
+<p>Upon her fe&auml;ce, a-fe&auml;ded white,</p>
+<p>Wer in a zummer's morn&egrave;n light</p>
+<p>In hall avore the smwold'r&egrave;n vier,</p>
+<p>The while the childern be&auml;t the vloor,</p></div>
+
+<a name="page203" id="page203"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;203]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In pla&yuml;, wi' tiny shoes they wore,</p>
+<p>An' call'd their mother's eyes to view</p>
+<p>The fe&auml;t's their little limbs could do.</p>
+<p>Oh! Ellen Brine ov Allenburn,</p>
+<p>They childern now mus' murn.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then woone, a-stopp&egrave;n vrom his re&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Went up, an' on her knee did ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>His hand, a-look&egrave;n in her fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' wi' a smil&egrave;n mouth so small,</p>
+<p>He zaid, "You promised us to goo</p>
+<p>To Shroton fe&auml;ir, an' te&auml;ke us two!"</p>
+<p>She he&auml;rd it wi' her two white ears,</p>
+<p>An' in her eyes there sprung two tears,</p>
+<p>Vor Ellen Brine ov Allenburn</p>
+<p>Did veel that they mus' murn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>September come, wi' Shroton fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>But Ellen Brine wer never there!</p>
+<p>A heavy heart wer on the me&auml;re</p>
+<p>Their father rod his hwomeward road.</p>
+<p>'Tis true he brought zome fe&auml;r&egrave;ns back,</p>
+<p>Vor them two childern all in black;</p>
+<p>But they had now, wi' pla&yuml;things new,</p>
+<p>Noo mother vor to shew em to,</p>
+<p>Vor Ellen Brine ov Allenburn</p>
+<p>Would never mwore return.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p203" id="p203"></a>
+
+<h4>THE MOTHERLESS CHILD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>The zun'd a-zet back tother night,</p>
+<p class="i2">But in the zett&egrave;n ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>The clouds, a-redden'd by his light,</p>
+<p class="i2">Still glow'd avore my fe&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>An' I've a-lost my Me&auml;ry's smile,</p>
+<p>I thought; but still I have her chile,</p><a name="page204" id="page204"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;204]</span>
+<p>Zoo like her, that my eyes can tre&auml;ce</p>
+<p>The mother's in her daughter's fe&auml;ce.</p>
+<p class="i2">O little fe&auml;ce so near to me,</p>
+<p>An' like thy mother's gone; why need I zay</p>
+<p>Sweet night cloud, wi' the glow o' my lost day,</p>
+<p class="i2">Thy looks be always dear to me.</p>
+<p>The zun'd a-zet another night;</p>
+<p class="i2">But, by the moon on high,</p>
+<p>He still did zend us back his light</p>
+<p class="i2">Below a cwolder sky.</p>
+<p>My Me&auml;ry's in a better land</p>
+<p>I thought, but still her chile's at hand,</p>
+<p>An' in her chile she'll zend me on</p>
+<p>Her love, though she herzelf's a-gone.</p>
+<p class="i2">O little chile so near to me,</p>
+<p>An' like thy mother gone; why need I zay,</p>
+<p>Sweet moon, the messenger vrom my lost day,</p>
+<p class="i2">Thy looks be always dear to me.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p204" id="p204"></a>
+
+<h4>THE LE&Auml;DY'S TOWER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then we went along the gle&auml;des</p>
+<p>O' zunny turf, in quiv'r&egrave;n she&auml;des,</p>
+<p>A-wind&egrave;n off, vrom hand to hand,</p>
+<p>Along a path o' yollow zand,</p>
+<p>An' clomb a stickle slope, an' vound</p>
+<p>An open patch o' lofty ground,</p>
+<p>Up where a ste&auml;tely tow'r did spring,</p>
+<p>So high as highest larks do zing.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Oh! Me&auml;ster Collins," then I zaid,</p>
+<p>A-look&egrave;n up wi' back-flung head;</p>
+<p>Vor who but he, so mild o' fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Should te&auml;ke me there to zee the ple&auml;ce.</p><a name="page205" id="page205"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;205]</span>
+<p>"What is it then the&auml;se tower do me&auml;n,</p>
+<p>A-built so fe&auml;ir, an' kept so cle&auml;n?"</p>
+<p>"Ah! me," he zaid, wi' thoughtvul fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>"'Twer grief that zet the&auml;se tower in ple&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>The squier's e'thly life's a-blest</p>
+<p>Wi' gifts that mwost do te&auml;ke vor best;</p>
+<p>The lofty-pinion'd rufs do rise</p>
+<p>To screen his head vrom stormy skies;</p>
+<p>His land's a-spread&egrave;n roun' his hall,</p>
+<p>An' hands do le&auml;bor at his call;</p>
+<p>The while the ho'se do fling, wi' pride,</p>
+<p>His lofty head where he do guide;</p>
+<p>But still his e'thly ja&yuml;'s a-vled,</p>
+<p>His woone true friend, his wife, is dead.</p>
+<p>Zoo now her happy soul's a-gone,</p>
+<p>An' he in grief's a-ling'r&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>Do do his heart zome good to show</p>
+<p>His love to flesh an' blood below.</p>
+<p>An' zoo he rear'd, wi' smitten soul,</p>
+<p>The&auml;se Le&auml;dy's Tower upon the knowl.</p>
+<p>An' there you'll zee the tow'r do spring</p>
+<p>Twice ten veet up, as roun's a ring,</p>
+<p>Wi' pillars under mwolded e&auml;ves,</p>
+<p>Above their heads a-carv'd wi' leaves;</p>
+<p>An' have to pe&auml;ce, a-walk&egrave;n round</p>
+<p>His voot, a hunderd veet o' ground.</p>
+<p>An' there, above his upper wall,</p>
+<p>A round&egrave;d tow'r do spring so tall</p>
+<p>'S a spring&egrave;n arrow shot upright,</p>
+<p>A hunderd giddy veet in height.</p>
+<p>An' if you'd like to stra&iuml;n your knees</p>
+<p>A-clim&egrave;n up above the trees,</p>
+<p>To zee, wi' slowly wheel&egrave;n fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>The vur-sky'd land about the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>You'll have a flight o' steps to wear</p>
+<p>Vor forty veet, up ste&auml;ir by ste&auml;ir,</p><a name="page206" id="page206"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;206]</span>
+<p>That roun' the ris&egrave;n tow'r do wind,</p>
+<p>Like withwind roun' the sapl&egrave;n's rind,</p>
+<p>An' reach a land&egrave;n, wi' a seat,</p>
+<p>To rest at last your weary veet,</p>
+<p>'Ithin a breast be-screen&egrave;n wall,</p>
+<p>To keep ye vrom a longsome vall.</p>
+<p>An' roun' the wind&egrave;n ste&auml;irs do spring</p>
+<p>A&iuml;ght stwon&egrave;n pillars in a ring,</p>
+<p>A-reach&egrave;n up their heavy strangth</p>
+<p>Drough forty veet o' slender langth,</p>
+<p>To end wi' carv&egrave;d heads below</p>
+<p>The broad-vloor'd land&egrave;n's a&iuml;ry bow.</p>
+<p>A&iuml;ght zides, as you do zee, do bound</p>
+<p>The lower build&egrave;n on the ground,</p>
+<p>An' there in woone, a two-leav'd door</p>
+<p>Do zwing above the marble vloor:</p>
+<p>An' a&yuml;e, as luck do zoo betide</p>
+<p>Our com&egrave;n, wi' can goo inside.</p>
+<p>The door is oben now. An' zoo</p>
+<p>The keeper kindly let us drough.</p>
+<p>There as we softly trod the vloor</p>
+<p>O' marble stwone, 'ithin the door,</p>
+<p>The echoes ov our vootsteps vled</p>
+<p>Out roun' the wall, and over head;</p>
+<p>An' there a-pa&iuml;nted, zide by zide,</p>
+<p>In memory o' the squier's bride,</p>
+<p>In zeven pa&iuml;nt&egrave;ns, true to life,</p>
+<p>Wer zeven zights o' wedded life."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then Me&auml;ster Collins twold me all</p>
+<p>The te&auml;les a-pa&iuml;nt&egrave;d roun' the wall;</p>
+<p>An' vu'st the bride did stan' to plight</p>
+<p>Her wedd&egrave;n vow, below the light</p>
+<p>A-shoot&egrave;n down, so bright's a fle&auml;me,</p>
+<p>In drough a churches window fre&auml;me.</p><a name="page207" id="page207"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;207]</span>
+<p>An' near the bride, on either hand,</p>
+<p>You'd zee her comely bridema&iuml;ds stand,</p>
+<p>Wi' eyelashes a-bent in stre&auml;ks</p>
+<p>O' brown above their bloom&egrave;n che&auml;ks:</p>
+<p>An' sheen&egrave;n fe&auml;ir, in mellow light,</p>
+<p>Wi' flow&egrave;n he&auml;ir, an' frocks o' white.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"An' here," good Me&auml;ster Collins cried,</p>
+<p>"You'll zee a cre&auml;dle at her zide,</p>
+<p>An' there's her child, a-ly&egrave;n deep</p>
+<p>'Ithin it, an' a-gone to sleep,</p>
+<p>Wi' little eyelashes a-met</p>
+<p>In fellow stre&auml;ks, as black as jet;</p>
+<p>The while her needle, over head,</p>
+<p>Do nimbly le&auml;d the snow-white thread,</p>
+<p>To zew a robe her love do me&auml;ke</p>
+<p>Wi' happy le&auml;bor vor his se&auml;ke.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"An' here a-ge&auml;n's another ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Where she do zit wi' smil&egrave;n fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' while her bwoy do le&auml;n, wi' pride,</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n her lap, below her zide,</p>
+<p>Her vinger tip do le&auml;d his look</p>
+<p>To zome good words o' God's own book.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"An' next you'll zee her in her ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Avore her happy husband's fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>As he do zit, at even&egrave;n-tide,</p>
+<p>A-rest&egrave;n by the vier-zide.</p>
+<p>An' there the childern's heads do rise</p>
+<p>Wi' laugh&egrave;n lips, an' beam&egrave;n eyes,</p>
+<p>Above the bwoard, where she do lay</p>
+<p>Her sheen&egrave;n tackl&egrave;n, wi' the tea.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"An' here another zide do show</p>
+<p>Her vinger in her scizzars' bow</p><a name="page208" id="page208"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;208]</span>
+<p>Avore two daughters, that do stand,</p>
+<p>Wi' le&auml;rnsome minds, to watch her hand</p>
+<p>A-she&auml;p&egrave;n out, wi' skill an' ce&auml;re,</p>
+<p>A frock vor them to zew an' wear.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Then next you'll zee her bend her head</p>
+<p>Above her a&iuml;l&egrave;n husband's bed,</p>
+<p>A-fann&egrave;n, wi' an inward pra&yuml;'r,</p>
+<p>His burn&egrave;n brow wi' be&auml;ten a&iuml;r;</p>
+<p>The while the clock, by candle light,</p>
+<p>Do show that 'tis the dead o' night.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"An' here age&auml;n upon the wall,</p>
+<p>Where we do zee her last ov all,</p>
+<p>Her husband's head's a-hang&egrave;n low,</p>
+<p>'Ithin his hands in deepest woe.</p>
+<p>An' she, an angel ov his God,</p>
+<p>Do cheer his soul below the rod,</p>
+<p>A-lift&egrave;n up her han' to call</p>
+<p>His eyes to writ&egrave;n on the wall,</p>
+<p>As white as is her spotless robe,</p>
+<p>'Hast thou remember&egrave;d my servant Job?'</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"An' zoo the squier, in grief o' soul,</p>
+<p>Built up the Tower upon the knowl."</p>
+  </div></div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p208" id="p208"></a>
+
+<h4>FATHERHOOD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Let en zit, wi' his dog an' his cat,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' their noses a-turn'd to the vier,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' have all that a man should desire;</p>
+<p>But there idden much re&auml;dship in that.</p>
+<p>Whether vo'k mid have childern or no,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wou'dden me&auml;ke mighty odds in the ma&iuml;n;</p>
+<p>They do bring us mwore ja&yuml; wi' mwore ho,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' wi' nwone we've less ja&yuml; wi' less pa&iuml;n</p><a name="page209" id="page209"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;209]</span>
+<p>We be all lik' a zull's idle she&auml;re out,</p>
+<p>An' shall rust out, unless we do wear out,</p>
+<p class="i2">Lik' do-noth&egrave;n, rue-noth&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i8">Dead alive dumps.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As vor me, why my life idden bound</p>
+<p class="i2">To my own heart alwone, among men;</p>
+<p class="i2">I do live in myzelf, an' age&auml;n</p>
+<p>In the lives o' my childern all round:</p>
+<p>I do live wi' my bwoy in his pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' age&auml;n wi' my ma&iuml;d in her zongs;</p>
+<p>An' my heart is a-stirr'd wi' their ja&yuml;,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' would burn at the zight o' their wrongs.</p>
+<p>I ha' nine lives, an' zoo if a half</p>
+<p>O'm do cry, why the rest o'm mid laugh</p>
+<p class="i2">All so pla&yuml;vully, ja&yuml;vully,</p>
+<p class="i8">Happy wi' hope.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Tother night I come hwome a long road,</p>
+<p class="i2">When the weather did sting an' did vreeze;</p>
+<p>An' the snow&mdash;vor the day had a-snow'd&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer avroze on the boughs o' the trees;</p>
+<p>An' my tooes an' my vingers wer num',</p>
+<p class="i2">An' my veet wer so lumpy as logs,</p>
+<p>An' my ears wer so red's a cock's cwom';</p>
+<p class="i2">An' my nose wer so cwold as a dog's;</p>
+<p>But so soon's I got hwome I vorgot</p>
+<p>Where my limbs wer a-cwold or wer hot,</p>
+<p class="i2">When wi' loud cries an' proud cries</p>
+<p class="i8">They coll'd me so cwold.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor the vu'st that I happen'd to meet</p>
+<p class="i2">Come to pull my girtcwoat vrom my e&auml;rm,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' another did rub my fe&auml;ce warm,</p>
+<p>An' another hot-slipper'd my veet;</p>
+<p>While their mother did cast on a stick,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor to keep the red vier alive;</p><a name="page210" id="page210"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;210]</span>
+<p>An' they all come so busy an' thick</p>
+<p class="i2">As the bees vlee-&egrave;n into their hive,</p>
+<p>An' they me&auml;de me so happy an' proud,</p>
+<p>That my heart could ha' crow'd out a-loud;</p>
+<p class="i2">They did tweil zoo, an' smile zoo,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' coll me so cwold.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As I zot wi' my teacup, at rest,</p>
+<p class="i2">There I pull'd out the ta&yuml;s I did bring;</p>
+<p class="i2">Men a-kick&egrave;n, a-wagg'd wi' a string,</p>
+<p>An' goggle-ey'd dolls to be drest;</p>
+<p>An' oh! vrom the childern there sprung</p>
+<p class="i2">Such a charm when they handled their ta&yuml;s,</p>
+<p>That vor pleasure the bigger woones wrung</p>
+<p class="i2">Their two hands at the zight o' their ja&yuml;s;</p>
+<p>As the bwoys' bigger va&iuml;ces vell in</p>
+<p>Wi' the ma&iuml;dens a-titter&egrave;n thin,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' their danc&egrave;n an' pranc&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' little mouth's laughs.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Though 'tis hard stripes to breed em all up,</p>
+<p class="i2">If I'm only a-blest vrom above,</p>
+<p class="i2">They'll me&auml;ke me amends wi' their love,</p>
+<p>Vor their pillow, their ple&auml;te, an' their cup;</p>
+<p>Though I shall be never a-spweil'd</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' the sarvice that money can buy;</p>
+<p>Still the hands ov a wife an' a child</p>
+<p class="i2">Be the bless&egrave;ns ov low or ov high;</p>
+<p>An' if there be mouths to be ved,</p>
+<p>He that zent em can zend me their bread,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' will smile on the chile</p>
+<p class="i8">That's a-new on the knee.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div>
+
+  <br /><br />
+
+  <a name="page211" id="page211"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;211]</span>
+
+<h4>THE MAID O' NEWTON.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In zummer, when the knaps wer bright</p>
+<p>In cool-a&iuml;r'd even&egrave;n's western light,</p>
+<p>An' ha&yuml; that had a-dried all day,</p>
+<p>Did now lie grey, to dewy night;</p>
+<p>I went, by happy chance, or doom,</p>
+<p>Vrom Broadwoak Hill, athirt to Coomb,</p>
+<p>An' met a ma&iuml;d in all her bloom:</p>
+<p class="i4">The fea&iuml;rest ma&iuml;d o' Newton.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She bore a basket that did ride</p>
+<p>So light, she didden le&auml;n azide;</p>
+<p>Her fe&auml;ce wer oval, an' she smil'd</p>
+<p>So sweet's a child, but walk'd wi' pride.</p>
+<p>I spoke to her, but what I zaid</p>
+<p>I didden know; wi' thoughts a-vled,</p>
+<p>I spoke by heart, an' not by head,</p>
+<p class="i4">Avore the ma&iuml;d o' Newton.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I call'd her, oh! I don't know who,</p>
+<p>'Twer by a ne&auml;me she never knew;</p>
+<p>An' to the heel she stood upon,</p>
+<p>She then brought on her hinder shoe,</p>
+<p>An' stopp'd avore me, where we met,</p>
+<p>An' wi' a smile woone can't vorget,</p>
+<p>She zaid, wi' eyes a-zwimm&egrave;n wet,</p>
+<p class="i4">"No, I be woone o' Newton."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then on I rambled to the west,</p>
+<p>Below the zunny hang&egrave;n's breast,</p>
+<p>Where, down athirt the little stream,</p>
+<p>The brudge's beam did lie at rest:</p>
+<p>But all the birds, wi' lively glee,</p><a name="page212" id="page212"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;212]</span>
+<p>Did chirp an' hop vrom tree to tree,</p>
+<p>As if it wer vrom pride, to zee</p>
+<p class="i4">Goo by the ma&iuml;d o' Newton.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>By fancy led, at even&egrave;n's glow,</p>
+<p>I woonce did goo, a-rov&egrave;n slow,</p>
+<p>Down where the el&egrave;ms, stem by stem,</p>
+<p>Do stan' to hem the grove below;</p>
+<p>But after that, my veet vorzook</p>
+<p>The grove, to seek the little brook</p>
+<p>At Coomb, where I mid zometimes look,</p>
+<p class="i4">To meet the ma&iuml;d o' Newton.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p212" id="p212"></a>
+
+<h4>CHILDHOOD.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, at that time our days wer but vew,</p>
+<p>An' our lim's wer but small, an' a-grow&egrave;n;</p>
+<p>An' then the fe&auml;ir worold wer new,</p>
+<p>An' life wer all hopevul an' ga&yuml;;</p>
+<p>An' the times o' the sprout&egrave;n o' leaves,</p>
+<p>An' the che&auml;k-burn&egrave;n seasons o' mow&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>An' bind&egrave;n o' red-headed sheaves,</p>
+<p>Wer all welcome seasons o' ja&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then the housen seem'd high, that be low,</p>
+<p>An' the brook did seem wide that is narrow,</p>
+<p>An' time, that do vlee, did goo slow,</p>
+<p>An' veel&egrave;ns now feeble wer strong,</p>
+<p>An' our worold did end wi' the ne&auml;mes</p>
+<p>Ov the Sha'sbury Hill or Bulbarrow;</p>
+<p>An' life did seem only the ge&auml;mes</p>
+<p>That we pla&yuml;'d as the days rolled along.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then the rivers, an' high-timber'd lands,</p>
+<p>An' the zilvery hills, 'ithout buy&egrave;n,</p><a name="page213" id="page213"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;213]</span>
+<p>Did seem to come into our hands</p>
+<p>Vrom others that own'd em avore;</p>
+<p>An' all zickness, an' sorrow, an' need,</p>
+<p>Seem'd to die wi' the wold vo'k a-dy&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>An' le&auml;ve us vor ever a-freed</p>
+<p>Vrom evils our vorefathers bore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But happy be childern the while</p>
+<p>They have elders a-liv&egrave;n to love em,</p>
+<p>An' te&auml;ke all the wearisome tweil</p>
+<p>That zome hands or others mus' do;</p>
+<p>Like the low-headed shrubs that be warm,</p>
+<p>In the lewth o' the trees up above em,</p>
+<p>A-screen'd vrom the cwold blow&egrave;n storm</p>
+<p>That the timber avore em must rue.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p213" id="p213"></a>
+
+<h4>ME&Auml;RY'S SMILE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When morn&egrave;n winds, a-blow&egrave;n high,</p>
+<p>Do zweep the clouds vrom all the sky,</p>
+<p>An' laurel-leaves do glitter bright,</p>
+<p>The while the newly broken light</p>
+<p>Do brighten up, avore our view,</p>
+<p>The vields wi' green, an' hills wi' blue;</p>
+<p>What then can highten to my eyes</p>
+<p>The cheerful fe&auml;ce ov e'th an' skies,</p>
+<p class="i4">But Me&auml;ry's smile, o' Morey's Mill,</p>
+<p class="i4">My rwose o' Mowy Lea.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when, at last, the even&egrave;n dews</p>
+<p>Do now begin to wet our shoes;</p>
+<p>An' night's a-rid&egrave;n to the west,</p>
+<p>To stop our work, an' gi'e us rest,</p>
+<p>Oh! let the candle's ruddy gle&auml;re</p>
+<p>But brighten up her sheen&egrave;n he&auml;ir;</p><a name="page214" id="page214"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;214]</span>
+<p>Or else, as she do walk abroad,</p>
+<p>Let moonlight show, upon the road,</p>
+<p class="i4">My Me&auml;ry's smile, o' Morey's Mill,</p>
+<p class="i4">My rwose o' Mowy Lea.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' O! mid never tears come on,</p>
+<p>To wash her fe&auml;ce's blushes wan,</p>
+<p>Nor kill her smiles that now do pla&yuml;</p>
+<p>Like sparkl&egrave;n we&auml;ves in zunny Ma&yuml;;</p>
+<p>But mid she still, vor all she's gone</p>
+<p>Vrom souls she now do smile upon,</p>
+<p>Show others they can vind woone ja&yuml;</p>
+<p>To turn the hardest work to pla&yuml;.</p>
+<p class="i4">My Me&auml;ry's smile, o' Morey's Mill,</p>
+<p class="i4">My rwose o' Mowy Lea.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p214" id="p214"></a>
+
+<h4>ME&Auml;RY WEDDED.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The zun can zink, the stars mid rise,</p>
+<p>An' woods be green to sheen&egrave;n skies;</p>
+<p>The cock mid crow to morn&egrave;n light,</p>
+<p>An' workvo'k zing to vall&egrave;n night;</p>
+<p>The birds mid whissle on the spra&yuml;,</p>
+<p>An' childern le&auml;p in merry pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p>But our's is now a lifeless ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Vor we've a-lost a smil&egrave;n fe&auml;ce&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">Young Me&auml;ry Me&auml;d o' merry mood,</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor she's a-woo'd an' wedded.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The dog that woonce wer glad to bear</p>
+<p>Her fondl&egrave;n vingers down his he&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;n his head age&auml;n the vloor,</p>
+<p>To watch, wi' heavy eyes, the door;</p>
+<p>An' men she zent so happy hwome</p>
+<p>O' Zadurdays, do seem to come</p><a name="page215" id="page215"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;215]</span>
+<p>To door, wi' downcast hearts, to miss</p>
+<p>Wi' smiles below the clematis,</p>
+<p class="i4">Young Me&auml;ry Me&auml;d o' merry mood,</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor she's a-woo'd an' wedded.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When they do draw the even&egrave;n blind,</p>
+<p>An' when the even&egrave;n light's a-tin'd,</p>
+<p>The cheerless vier do drow a gle&auml;re</p>
+<p>O' light age&auml;n her empty chair;</p>
+<p>An' wordless gaps do now me&auml;ke thin</p>
+<p>Their talk where woonce her va&iuml;ce come in.</p>
+<p>Zoo lwonesome is her empty ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' blest the house that ha' the fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i4">O' Me&auml;ry Me&auml;d, o' merry mood,</p>
+<p class="i4">Now she's a-woo'd and wedded.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The day she left her father's he'th,</p>
+<p>Though sad, wer kept a day o' me'th,</p>
+<p>An' dry-wheel'd waggons' empty beds</p>
+<p>Wer left 'ithin the tree-screen'd sheds;</p>
+<p>An' all the hosses, at their e&auml;se,</p>
+<p>Went snort&egrave;n up the flow'ry le&auml;se,</p>
+<p>But woone, the smartest for the ro&auml;d,</p>
+<p>That pull'd away the dearest lwoad&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">Young Me&auml;ry Me&auml;d o' merry mood,</p>
+<p class="i4">That wer a-woo'd an' wedded.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p215" id="p215"></a>
+
+<h4>THE STWONEN BWOY UPON THE PILLAR.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Wi' smokeless tuns an' empty halls,</p>
+<p>An' moss a-cling&egrave;n to the walls,</p>
+<p>In ev'ry wind the lofty tow'rs</p>
+<p>Do te&auml;ke the zun, an' bear the show'rs;</p>
+<p>An' there, 'ithin a ge&auml;t a-hung,</p>
+<p>But vasten'd up, an' never swung,</p><a name="page216" id="page216"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;216]</span>
+<p>Upon the pillar, all alwone,</p>
+<p>Do stan' the little bwoy o' stwone;</p>
+<p>'S a poppy bud mid linger on,</p>
+<p>Vorse&auml;ken, when the wheat's a-gone.</p>
+<p>An' there, then, wi' his bow let slack,</p>
+<p>An' little quiver at his back,</p>
+<p>Drough het an' wet, the little chile</p>
+<p>Vrom day to day do stan' an' smile.</p>
+<p>When vu'st the light, a-ris&egrave;n weak,</p>
+<p>At break o' day, do smite his che&auml;k,</p>
+<p>Or while, at noon, the leafy bough</p>
+<p>Do cast a she&auml;de a-thirt his brow,</p>
+<p>Or when at night the warm-breath'd cows</p>
+<p>Do sleep by moon-belighted boughs;</p>
+<p>An' there the while the rooks do bring</p>
+<p>Their scroff to build their nest in Spring,</p>
+<p>Or zwallows in the zummer day</p>
+<p>Do cling their little huts o' clay,</p>
+<p>'Ithin the ra&iuml;nless she&auml;des, below</p>
+<p>The steadvast arches' mossy bow.</p>
+<p>Or when, in Fall, the woak do shed</p>
+<p>The leaves, a-wither'd, vrom his head,</p>
+<p>An' western win's, a-blow&egrave;n cool,</p>
+<p>Do dreve em out athirt the pool,</p>
+<p>Or Winter's clouds do gather dark</p>
+<p>An' wet, wi' ra&iuml;n, the elem's bark,</p>
+<p>You'll zee his pretty smile betwixt</p>
+<p>His little she&auml;de-mark'd lips a-fix'd;</p>
+<p>As there his little she&auml;pe do bide</p>
+<p>Drough day an' night, an' time an' tide,</p>
+<p>An' never change his size or dress,</p>
+<p>Nor overgrow his prettiness.</p>
+<p>But, oh! thik child, that we do vind</p>
+<p>In childhood still, do call to mind</p>
+<p>A little bwoy a-call'd by death,</p>
+<p>Long years agoo, vrom our sad he'th;</p><a name="page217" id="page217"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;217]</span>
+<p>An' I, in thought, can zee en dim</p>
+<p>The se&auml;me in fe&auml;ce, the se&auml;me in lim',</p>
+<p>My he&auml;ir mid whiten as the snow,</p>
+<p>My limbs grow weak, my step wear slow,</p>
+<p>My droop&egrave;n head mid slowly vall</p>
+<p>Above the han'-staff's glossy ball,</p>
+<p>An' yeet, vor all a wid'n&egrave;n span</p>
+<p>Ov years, mid change a liv&egrave;n man,</p>
+<p>My little child do still appear</p>
+<p>To me wi' all his childhood's gear,</p>
+<p>'Ithout a beard upon his chin,</p>
+<p>'Ithout a wrinkle in his skin,</p>
+<p>A-liv&egrave;n on, a child the se&auml;me</p>
+<p>In look, an' she&auml;pe, an' size, an' ne&auml;me.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p217" id="p217"></a>
+
+<h4>THE YOUNG THAT DIED IN BEAUTY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>If souls should only sheen so bright</p>
+<p>In heaven as in e'thly light,</p>
+<p>An' noth&egrave;n better wer the ce&auml;se,</p>
+<p>How comely still, in she&auml;pe an' fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Would many reach thik happy ple&auml;ce,&mdash;</p>
+<p>The hopeful souls that in their prime</p>
+<p>Ha' seem'd a-took avore their time&mdash;</p>
+<p>The young that died in beauty.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But when woone's lim's ha' lost their strangth</p>
+<p>A-tweil&egrave;n drough a lifetime's langth,</p>
+<p>An' over che&auml;ks a-grow&egrave;n wold</p>
+<p>The slowly-we&auml;sten years ha' rolled,</p>
+<p>The deep'n&egrave;n wrinkle's hollow vwold;</p>
+<p>When life is ripe, then death do call</p>
+<p>Vor less ov thought, than when do vall</p>
+<p>On young vo'ks in their beauty.</p></div>
+<a name="page218" id="page218"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;218]</span>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But pin&egrave;n souls, wi' heads a-hung</p>
+<p>In heavy sorrow vor the young,</p>
+<p>The sister ov the brother dead,</p>
+<p>The father wi' a child a-vled,</p>
+<p>The husband when his bride ha' laid</p>
+<p>Her head at rest, noo mwore to turn,</p>
+<p>Have all a-vound the time to murn</p>
+<p>Vor youth that died in beauty.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' yeet the church, where pra&yuml;er do rise</p>
+<p>Vrom thoughtvul souls, wi' downcast eyes.</p>
+<p>An' village greens, a-be&auml;t half be&auml;re</p>
+<p>By dancers that do meet, an' we&auml;r</p>
+<p>Such merry looks at fe&auml;st an' fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>Do gather under le&agrave;test skies,</p>
+<p>Their bloom&egrave;n che&auml;ks an' sparkl&egrave;n eyes,</p>
+<p>Though young ha' died in beauty.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But still the dead shall mwore than keep</p>
+<p>The beauty ov their e&auml;rly sleep;</p>
+<p>Where comely looks shall never we&auml;r</p>
+<p>Uncomely, under tweil an' ce&auml;re.</p>
+<p>The fe&auml;ir at death be always fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>Still fe&auml;ir to livers' thought an' love,</p>
+<p>An' fe&auml;irer still to God above,</p>
+<p>Than when they died in beauty.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p218" id="p218"></a>
+
+<h4>FAIR EMILY OV YARROW MILL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Dear Yarrowham, 'twer many miles</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom thy green me&auml;ds that, in my walk,</p>
+<p>I met a ma&iuml;d wi' winn&egrave;n smiles,</p>
+<p class="i2">That talk'd as vo'k at hwome do talk;</p>
+<p>An' who at last should she be vound,</p>
+<p>Ov all the souls the sky do bound,</p>
+<p>But woone that trod at vu'st thy groun'</p>
+<p class="i12">Fair Emily ov Yarrow Mill.</p></div><a name="page219" id="page219"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;219]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But thy wold house an' elmy nook,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' wall-screen'd ge&auml;rden's mossy zides,</p>
+<p>Thy grassy me&auml;ds an' zedgy brook,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' high-bank'd le&auml;nes, wi' she&auml;dy rides,</p>
+<p>Wer all a-known to me by light</p>
+<p>Ov e&auml;rly days, a-quench'd by night,</p>
+<p>Avore they met the younger zight</p>
+<p class="i12">Ov Emily ov Yarrow Mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' now my heart do le&auml;p to think</p>
+<p class="i2">O' times that I've a-spent in pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p>Bezide thy river's rushy brink,</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon a de&auml;izybed o' Ma&yuml;;</p>
+<p>I lov'd the friends thy land ha' bore,</p>
+<p>An' I do love the paths they wore,</p>
+<p>An' I do love thee all the mwore,</p>
+<p class="i12">Vor Emily ov Yarrow Mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When bright above the e'th below</p>
+<p class="i2">The moon do spread abroad his light,</p>
+<p>An' a&iuml;r o' zummer nights do blow</p>
+<p class="i2">Athirt the vields in pla&yuml;some flight,</p>
+<p>'Tis then delightsome under all</p>
+<p>The she&auml;des o' boughs by path or wall,</p>
+<p>But mwostly thine when they do vall</p>
+<p class="i12">On Emily ov Yarrow Mill.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p219" id="p219"></a>
+
+<h4>THE SCUD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, aye, the le&auml;ne wi' flow'ry zides</p>
+<p>A-kept so lew, by hazzle-wrides,</p>
+<p>Wi' beds o' gr&aelig;gles out in bloom,</p>
+<p>Below the timber's windless gloon</p>
+<p>An' ge&auml;te that I've a-swung,</p>
+<p>An' rod as he's a-hung,</p>
+<p>When I wer young, in Woakley Coomb.</p></div>
+<a name="page220" id="page220"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;220]</span>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Twer there at fe&auml;st we all did pass</p>
+<p>The even&egrave;n on the le&auml;nezide grass,</p>
+<p>Out where the ge&auml;te do let us drough,</p>
+<p>Below the woak-trees in the lew,</p>
+<p>In merry ge&auml;mes an' fun</p>
+<p>That me&auml;de us skip an' run,</p>
+<p>Wi' burn&egrave;n zun, an' sky o' blue.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But still there come a scud that drove</p>
+<p>The titt'r&egrave;n ma&iuml;dens vrom the grove;</p>
+<p>An' there a-left wer flow'ry mound,</p>
+<p>'Ithout a va&iuml;ce, 'ithout a sound,</p>
+<p>Unless the a&iuml;r did blow,</p>
+<p>Drough rusl&egrave;n leaves, an' drow,</p>
+<p>The ra&iuml;n drops low, upon the ground.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I linger'd there an' miss'd the na&iuml;se;</p>
+<p>I linger'd there an' miss'd our ja&yuml;s;</p>
+<p>I miss'd woone soul beyond the rest;</p>
+<p>The ma&iuml;d that I do like the best.</p>
+<p>Vor where her va&iuml;ce is ga&yuml;</p>
+<p>An' where her smiles do pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p>There's always ja&yuml; vor ev'ry breast.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor zome vo'k out abroad ha' me'th,</p>
+<p>But nwone at hwome bezide the he'th;</p>
+<p>An' zome ha' smiles vor strangers' view;</p>
+<p>An' frowns vor kith an' kin to rue;</p>
+<p>But her sweet va&iuml;ce do vall,</p>
+<p>Wi' kindly words to all,</p>
+<p>Both big an' small, the whole day drough.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the even&egrave;n sky wer pe&auml;le,</p>
+<p>We he&auml;rd the warbl&egrave;n night&egrave;nge&auml;le,</p>
+<p>A-draw&egrave;n out his lwonesome zong,</p>
+<p>In wind&egrave;n music down the drong;</p>
+<p>An' Jenny vrom her he'th,</p><a name="page221" id="page221"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;221]</span>
+<p>Come out, though not in me'th,</p>
+<p>But held her breath, to hear his zong.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then, while the bird wi' oben bill</p>
+<p>Did warble on, her va&iuml;ce wer still;</p>
+<p>An' as she stood avore me, bound</p>
+<p>In stillness to the flow'ry mound,</p>
+<p>"The bird's a ja&yuml; to zome,"</p>
+<p>I thought, "but when he's dum,</p>
+<p>Her va&iuml;ce will come, wi' sweeter sound."</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p221" id="p221"></a>
+
+<h4>MINDEN HOUSE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Twer when the vo'k wer out to hawl</p>
+<p>A vield o' ha&yuml; a day in June,</p>
+<p>An' when the zun begun to vall</p>
+<p>Toward the west in afternoon,</p>
+<p>Woone only wer a-left behind</p>
+<p>To bide indoors, at hwome, an' mind</p>
+<p>The house, an' answer vo'k avore</p>
+<p>The ge&auml;te or door,&mdash;young Fanny De&auml;ne.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The a&iuml;r 'ithin the ge&auml;rden wall</p>
+<p>Wer deadly still, unless the bee</p>
+<p>Did hummy by, or in the hall</p>
+<p>The clock did ring a-hett&egrave;n dree,</p>
+<p>An' there, wi' busy hands, inside</p>
+<p>The iron ce&auml;sement, oben'd wide,</p>
+<p>Did zit an' pull wi' nimble twitch</p>
+<p>Her tiny stitch, young Fanny De&auml;ne.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As there she zot she he&auml;rd two blows</p>
+<p>A-knock'd upon the rumbl&egrave;n door,</p>
+<p>An' laid azide her work, an' rose,</p>
+<p>An' walk'd out fe&auml;ir, athirt the vloor;</p>
+<p>An' there, a-hold&egrave;n in his hand</p>
+<p>His bridled me&auml;re, a youth did stand,</p><a name="page222" id="page222"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;222]</span>
+<p>An' mildly twold his ne&auml;me and ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Avore the fe&auml;ce o' Fanny De&auml;ne.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He twold her that he had on hand</p>
+<p>Zome business on his father's zide,</p>
+<p>But what she didden understand;</p>
+<p>An' zoo she ax'd en if he'd ride</p>
+<p>Out where her father mid be vound,</p>
+<p>Bezide the plow, in Cowslip Ground;</p>
+<p>An' there he went, but left his mind</p>
+<p>Back there behind, wi' Fanny De&auml;ne.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' oh! his hwomeward road wer ga&yuml;</p>
+<p>In a&iuml;r a-blow&egrave;n, whiff by whiff,</p>
+<p>While sheen&egrave;n water-we&auml;ves did pla&yuml;</p>
+<p>An' boughs did swa&yuml; above the cliff;</p>
+<p>Vor Time had now a-show'd en dim</p>
+<p>The ja&yuml; it had in store vor him;</p>
+<p>An' when he went thik road age&auml;n</p>
+<p>His errand then wer Fanny De&auml;ne.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How strangely things be brought about</p>
+<p>By Providence, noo tongue can tell,</p>
+<p>She minded house, when vo'k wer out,</p>
+<p>An' zoo mus' bid the house farewell;</p>
+<p>The bees mid hum, the clock mid call</p>
+<p>The lwonesome hours 'ithin the hall,</p>
+<p>But in behind the woaken door,</p>
+<p>There's now noo mwore a Fanny De&auml;ne.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p222" id="p222"></a>
+
+<h4>THE LOVELY MA&Iuml;D OV ELWELL ME&Auml;D.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A ma&iuml;d wi' many gifts o' gre&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>A ma&iuml;d wi' ever-smil&egrave;n fe&auml;ce,</p><a name="page223" id="page223"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;223]</span>
+<p>A child o' yours my chilhood's ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">O le&auml;n&egrave;n lawns ov Allen;</p>
+<p>'S a-walk&egrave;n where your stream do flow,</p>
+<p>A-blush&egrave;n where your flowers do blow,</p>
+<p>A-smil&egrave;n where your zun do glow,</p>
+<p class="i2">O le&auml;n&egrave;n lawns ov Allen.</p>
+<p class="i4">An' good, however good's a-wa&iuml;gh'd,</p>
+<p class="i4">'S the lovely ma&iuml;d ov Elwell Me&auml;d.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' oh! if I could te&auml;me an' guide</p>
+<p>The winds above the e'th, an' ride</p>
+<p>As light as shoot&egrave;n stars do glide,</p>
+<p class="i2">O le&auml;n&egrave;n lawns ov Allen,</p>
+<p>To you I'd te&auml;ke my daily flight,</p>
+<p>Drough dark'n&egrave;n a&iuml;r in even&egrave;n's light,</p>
+<p>An' bid her every night "Good night,"</p>
+<p class="i2">O le&auml;n&egrave;n lawns ov Allen.</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor good, however good's a-wa&iuml;gh'd,</p>
+<p class="i4">'S the lovely ma&iuml;d ov Elwell Me&auml;d.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when your hedges' slooes be blue,</p>
+<p>By blackberries o' dark'n&egrave;n hue,</p>
+<p>An' spiders' webs behung wi' dew,</p>
+<p class="i2">O le&auml;n&egrave;n lawns ov Allen</p>
+<p>Avore the winter a&iuml;r's a-chill'd,</p>
+<p>Avore your winter brook's a-vill'd</p>
+<p>Avore your zummer flow'rs be kill'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">O le&auml;n&egrave;n lawns ov Allen;</p>
+<p class="i4">I there would meet, in white arra&yuml;'d,</p>
+<p class="i4">The lovely ma&iuml;d ov Elwell Me&auml;d.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>For when the zun, as birds do rise,</p>
+<p>Do cast their she&auml;des vrom autum' skies,</p>
+<p>A-sparkl&egrave;n in her dewy eyes,</p>
+<p class="i2">O le&auml;n&egrave;n lawns ov Allen</p><a name="page224" id="page224"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;224]</span>
+<p>Then all your mossy paths below</p>
+<p>The trees, wi' leaves a-vall&egrave;n slow,</p>
+<p>Like zink&egrave;n fle&auml;kes o' yollow snow,</p>
+<p class="i2">O le&auml;n&egrave;n lawns ov Allen.</p>
+<p class="i4">Would be mwore te&auml;k&egrave;n where they stra&yuml;'d</p>
+<p class="i4">The lovely ma&iuml;d ov Elwell Me&auml;d.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p224" id="p224"></a>
+
+<h4>OUR FATHERS' WORKS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! I do think, as I do tread</p>
+<p>The&auml;se path, wi' elems overhead,</p>
+<p>A-clim&egrave;n slowly up vrom Bridge,</p>
+<p>By easy steps, to Broadwoak Ridge,</p>
+<p>That all the&auml;se roads that we do bruise</p>
+<p>Wi' hosses' shoes, or heavy lwoads;</p>
+<p>An' hedges' bands, where trees in row</p>
+<p>Do rise an' grow aroun' the lands,</p>
+<p>Be works that we've a-vound a-wrought</p>
+<p>By our vorefathers' ce&auml;re an' thought.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>They clear'd the groun' vor grass to te&auml;ke</p>
+<p>The ple&auml;ce that bore the bremble bre&auml;ke,</p>
+<p>An' dra&iuml;n'd the fen, where water spread,</p>
+<p>A-ly&egrave;n dead, a be&auml;ne to men;</p>
+<p>An' built the mill, where still the wheel</p>
+<p>Do grind our meal, below the hill;</p>
+<p>An' turn'd the bridge, wi' arch a-spread,</p>
+<p>Below a road, vor us to tread.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>They vound a ple&auml;ce, where we mid seek</p>
+<p>The gifts o' gre&auml;ce vrom week to week;</p>
+<p>An' built wi' stwone, upon the hill,</p>
+<p>A tow'r we still do call our own;</p>
+<p>With bells to use, an' me&auml;ke reja&iuml;ce,</p>
+<p>Wi' giant va&iuml;ce, at our good news:</p><a name="page225" id="page225"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;225]</span>
+<p>An' lifted stwones an' beams to keep</p>
+<p>The ra&iuml;n an' cwold vrom us asleep.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo now mid nwone ov us vorget</p>
+<p>The pattern our vorefathers zet;</p>
+<p>But each be f&auml;in to underte&auml;ke</p>
+<p>Some work to me&auml;ke vor others' ga&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>That we mid le&auml;ve mwore good to she&auml;re,</p>
+<p>Less ills to bear, less souls to grieve,</p>
+<p>An' when our hands do vall to rest,</p>
+<p>It mid be vrom a work a-blest.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p225" id="p225"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WOLD VO'K DEAD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>My days, wi' wold vo'k all but gone,</p>
+<p>An' childern now a-com&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>Do bring me still my mother's smiles</p>
+<p>In light that now do show my chile's;</p>
+<p>An' I've a-she&auml;r'd the wold vo'ks' me'th,</p>
+<p>Avore the burn&egrave;n Chris'mas he'th,</p>
+<p>At friendly bwoards, where fe&auml;ce by fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Did, year by year, gi'e up its ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' le&auml;ve me here, behind, to tread</p>
+<p>The ground a-trod by wold vo'k dead.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But wold things be a-lost vor new,</p>
+<p>An' zome do come, while zome do goo:</p>
+<p>As wither'd beech-tree leaves do cling</p>
+<p>Among the nesh young buds o' Spring;</p>
+<p>An' frett&egrave;n worms ha' slowly wound,</p>
+<p>Droo beams the wold vo'k lifted sound,</p>
+<p>An' trees they planted little slips</p>
+<p>Ha' stems that noo two e&auml;rms can clips;</p>
+<p>An' grey an' yollow moss do spread</p>
+<p>On build&egrave;ns new to wold vo'k dead.</p></div>
+<a name="page226" id="page226"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;226]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The backs of all our zilv'ry hills,</p>
+<p>The brook that still do dreve our mills,</p>
+<p>The roads a-clim&egrave;n up the brows</p>
+<p>O' knaps, a-screen'd by me&auml;ple boughs,</p>
+<p>Wer all a-mark'd in she&auml;de an' light</p>
+<p>Avore our wolder fathers' zight,</p>
+<p>In zunny days, a-gied their hands</p>
+<p>For happy work, a-till&egrave;n lands,</p>
+<p>That now do yield their childern bread</p>
+<p>Till they do rest wi' wold vo'k dead.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But liv&egrave;n vo'k, a-griev&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>Wi' lwonesome love, vor souls a-gone,</p>
+<p>Do zee their goodness, but do vind</p>
+<p>All else a-steal&egrave;n out o' mind;</p>
+<p>As air do me&auml;ke the vurthest land</p>
+<p>Look fe&auml;irer than the vield at hand,</p>
+<p>An' zoo, as time do slowly pass,</p>
+<p>So still's a she&auml;de upon the grass,</p>
+<p>Its wid'n&egrave;n spe&auml;ce do slowly shed</p>
+<p>A glory roun' the wold vo'k dead.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' what if good vo'ks' life o' breath</p>
+<p>Is zoo a-hallow'd after death,</p>
+<p>That they mid only know above,</p>
+<p>Their times o' fa&iuml;th, an' ja&yuml;, an' love,</p>
+<p>While all the evil time ha' brought</p>
+<p>'S a-lost vor ever out o' thought;</p>
+<p>As all the moon that idden bright,</p>
+<p>'S a-lost in darkness out o' zight;</p>
+<p>And all the godly life they led</p>
+<p>Is glory to the wold vo'k dead.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If things be zoo, an' souls above</p>
+<p>Can only mind our e'thly love,</p><a name="page227" id="page227"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;227]</span>
+<p>Why then they'll veel our kindness drown</p>
+<p>The thoughts ov all that me&auml;de em frown.</p>
+<p>An' ja&yuml; o' ja&yuml;s will dry the tear</p>
+<p>O' sadness that do trickle here,</p>
+<p>An' noth&egrave;n mwore o' life than love,</p>
+<p>An' peace, will then be know'd above.</p>
+<p>Do good, vor that, when life's a-vled,</p>
+<p>Is still a pleasure to the dead.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p227" id="p227"></a>
+
+<h4>CULVER DELL AND THE SQUIRE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There's noo ple&auml;ce I do like so well,</p>
+<p>As Elem Knap in Culver Dell,</p>
+<p>Where timber trees, wi' lofty shouds,</p>
+<p>Did rise avore the western clouds;</p>
+<p>An' stan' age&auml;n, wi' veathery tops,</p>
+<p>A-sway&egrave;n up in North-Hill Copse.</p>
+<p>An' on the east the morn&egrave;n broke</p>
+<p>Above a dewy grove o' woak:</p>
+<p>An' noontide shed its burn&egrave;n light</p>
+<p>On ashes on the southern height;</p>
+<p>An' I could vind zome te&auml;les to tell,</p>
+<p>O' former days in Culver Dell.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' all the vo'k did love so well</p>
+<p>The good wold squire o' Culver Dell,</p>
+<p>That used to ramble drough the she&auml;des</p>
+<p>O' timber, or the burn&egrave;n gle&auml;des,</p>
+<p>An' come at even&egrave;n up the le&auml;ze</p>
+<p>Wi' red-e&auml;r'd dogs bezide his knees.</p>
+<p>An' hold his gun, a-hang&egrave;n drough</p>
+<p>His e&auml;rmpit, out above his tooe.</p>
+<p>Wi' kindly words upon his tongue,</p>
+<p>Vor vo'k that met en, wold an' young,</p>
+<p>Vor he did know the poor so well</p>
+<p>'S the richest vo'k in Culver Dell.</p></div>
+<a name="page228" id="page228"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;228]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' while the wo&auml;k, wi' spread&egrave;n head,</p>
+<p>Did she&auml;de the foxes' verny bed;</p>
+<p>An' runn&egrave;n he&auml;res, in zunny gle&auml;des,</p>
+<p>Did be&auml;t the grasses' quiv'r&egrave;n' ble&auml;des;</p>
+<p>An' speckled pa'tridges took flight</p>
+<p>In stubble vields a-fe&auml;d&egrave;n white;</p>
+<p>Or he could zee the pheasant strut</p>
+<p>In she&auml;dy woods, wi' pa&iuml;nted cwoat;</p>
+<p>Or long-tongued dogs did love to run</p>
+<p>Among the leaves, bezide his gun;</p>
+<p>We didden want vor call to dwell</p>
+<p>At hwome in peace in Culver Dell.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But now I hope his kindly fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Is gone to vind a better ple&auml;ce;</p>
+<p>But still, wi' vo'k a-left behind</p>
+<p>He'll always be a-kept in mind,</p>
+<p>Vor all his springy-vooted hounds</p>
+<p>Ha' done o' trott&egrave;n round his grounds,</p>
+<p>An' we have all a-left the spot,</p>
+<p>To te&auml;ke, a-scatter'd, each his lot;</p>
+<p>An' even Father, lik' the rest,</p>
+<p>Ha' left our long vorse&auml;ken nest;</p>
+<p>An' we should vind it sad to dwell,</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n at hwome in Culver Dell.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The a&iuml;ry morn&egrave;ns still mid smite</p>
+<p>Our windows wi' their rwosy light,</p>
+<p>An' high-zunn'd noons mid dry the dew</p>
+<p>On grow&egrave;n groun' below our shoe;</p>
+<p>The blush&egrave;n even&egrave;n still mid dye,</p>
+<p>Wi' viry red, the western sky;</p>
+<p>The zunny spring-time's quickn&egrave;n power</p>
+<p>Mid come to oben leaf an' flower;</p>
+<p>An' days an' tides mid bring us on</p>
+<p>Woone pleasure when another's gone.</p>
+<p>But we must bid a long farewell</p>
+<p>To days an' tides in Culver Dell.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+  <a name="page229" id="page229"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;229]</span>
+
+<h4>OUR BE'THPLACE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How dear's the door a latch do shut,</p>
+<p>An' ge&auml;rden that a hatch do shut,</p>
+<p>Where vu'st our bloom&egrave;n che&auml;ks ha' prest</p>
+<p>The pillor ov our childhood's rest;</p>
+<p>Or where, wi' little tooes, we wore</p>
+<p>The paths our fathers trod avore;</p>
+<p>Or clim'd the timber's bark aloft,</p>
+<p>Below the zing&egrave;n lark aloft,</p>
+<p>The while we he&auml;rd the echo sound</p>
+<p>Drough all the ring&egrave;n valley round.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A lwonesome grove o' woak did rise,</p>
+<p>To screen our house, where smoke did rise,</p>
+<p>A-twist&egrave;n blue, while yeet the zun</p>
+<p>Did langthen on our childhood's fun;</p>
+<p>An' there, wi' all the she&auml;pes an' sounds</p>
+<p>O' life, among the timber'd grounds,</p>
+<p>The birds upon their boughs did zing,</p>
+<p>An' milkma&iuml;ds by their cows did zing,</p>
+<p>Wi' merry sounds, that softly died,</p>
+<p>A-ring&egrave;n down the valley zide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>By river banks, wi' reeds a-bound,</p>
+<p>An' sheen&egrave;n pools, wi' weeds a-bound,</p>
+<p>The long-neck'd gander's ruddy bill</p>
+<p>To snow-white geese did cackle sh'ill;</p>
+<p>An' strid&egrave;n peewits he&auml;sten'd by,</p>
+<p>O' tiptooe wi' their scream&egrave;n cry;</p>
+<p>An' stalk&egrave;n cows a-low&egrave;n loud,</p>
+<p>An' strutt&egrave;n cocks a-crow&egrave;n loud,</p>
+<p>Did rouse the echoes up to mock</p>
+<p>Their mingled sounds by hill an' rock.</p></div>
+<a name="page230" id="page230"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;230]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The stars that clim'd our skies all dark,</p>
+<p>Above our sleep&egrave;n eyes all dark,</p>
+<p>An' zuns a-roll&egrave;n round to bring</p>
+<p>The seasons on, vrom Spring to Spring,</p>
+<p>Ha' vled, wi' never-rest&egrave;n flight,</p>
+<p>Drough green-bough'd day, an' dark-tree'd night;</p>
+<p>Till now our childhood's ple&auml;ces there,</p>
+<p>Be ga&yuml; wi' other fe&auml;ces there,</p>
+<p>An' we ourselves do vollow on</p>
+<p>Our own vorelivers dead an' gone.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p230" id="p230"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WINDOW FRE&Auml;M'D WI' STWONE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When Pentridge House wer still the nest</p>
+<p>O' souls that now ha' better rest,</p>
+<p>Avore the vi&euml;r burnt to ground</p>
+<p>His beams an' walls, that then wer sound,</p>
+<p>'Ithin a na&iuml;l-bestudded door,</p>
+<p>An' passage wi' a stwon&egrave;n vloor,</p>
+<p>There spread the hall, where zun-light shone</p>
+<p>In drough a window fre&auml;m'd wi' stwone.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A clavy-beam o' sheen&egrave;n woak</p>
+<p>Did span the he'th wi' twist&egrave;n smoke,</p>
+<p>Where fle&auml;mes did shoot in yollow streaks,</p>
+<p>Above the brands, their flash&egrave;n peaks;</p>
+<p>An' aunt did pull, as she did stand</p>
+<p>O'-tip-tooe, wi' her lifted hand,</p>
+<p>A curtain fe&auml;ded wi' the zun,</p>
+<p>Avore the window fre&auml;m'd wi' stwone.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When Hwome-ground grass, below the moon,</p>
+<p>Wer damp wi' even&egrave;n dew in June,</p>
+<p>An' aunt did call the ma&iuml;dens in</p>
+<p>Vrom walk&egrave;n, wi' their shoes too thin,</p><a name="page231" id="page231"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;231]</span>
+<p>They zot to rest their litty veet</p>
+<p>Upon the window's woaken seat,</p>
+<p>An' chatted there, in light that shone</p>
+<p>In drough the window fre&auml;m'd wi' stwone.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' as the seasons, in a ring,</p>
+<p>Roll'd slowly roun' vrom Spring to Spring,</p>
+<p>An' brought em on zome holy-tide,</p>
+<p>When they did cast their tools azide;</p>
+<p>How glad it me&auml;de em all to spy</p>
+<p>In Stwonylands their friends draw nigh,</p>
+<p>As they did know em all by ne&auml;me</p>
+<p>Out drough the window's stwon&egrave;n fre&auml;me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O even&egrave;n zun, a-rid&egrave;n drough</p>
+<p>The sky, vrom Sh'oton Hill o' blue,</p>
+<p>To le&auml;ve the night a-brood&egrave;n dark</p>
+<p>At Stalbridge, wi' its grey-wall'd park;</p>
+<p>Small ja&yuml; to me the vields do bring,</p>
+<p>Vor all their zummer birds do zing,</p>
+<p>Since now thy beams noo mwore do fle&auml;me</p>
+<p>In drough the window's stwon&egrave;n fre&auml;me.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p231" id="p231"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WATER-SPRING IN THE LEANE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! aye! the spring 'ithin the le&auml;ne,</p>
+<p>A-le&auml;den down to Lyddan Brook;</p>
+<p>An' still a-nessl&egrave;n in his nook,</p>
+<p>As weeks do pass, an' moons do we&auml;ne.</p>
+<p class="i6">Nwone the drier,</p>
+<p class="i6">Nwone the higher,</p>
+<p>Nwone the nigher to the door</p>
+<p>Where we did live so long avore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' oh! what vo'k his mossy brim</p>
+<p>Ha' gathered in the run o' time!</p><a name="page232" id="page232"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;232]</span>
+<p>The wife a-blush&egrave;n in her prime;</p>
+<p>The widow wi' her eyezight dim;</p>
+<p class="i6">Ma&iuml;dens dipp&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i6">Childern sipp&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Water dripp&egrave;n, at the cool</p>
+<p>Dark wall&egrave;n ov the little pool.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Behind the spring do lie the lands</p>
+<p>My father till'd, vrom Spring to Spring,</p>
+<p>Aw&auml;it&egrave;n on vor time to bring</p>
+<p>The crops to pa&yuml; his weary hands.</p>
+<p class="i6">Wheat a-grow&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i6">Be&auml;ns a-blow&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Grass vor mow&egrave;n, where the bridge</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;d to Ryall's on the ridge.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But who do know when liv'd an' died</p>
+<p>The squier o' the mwoldr&egrave;n hall;</p>
+<p>That lined en wi' a stwon&egrave;n wall,</p>
+<p>An' ste&auml;n'd so cle&auml;n his wat'ry zide?</p>
+<p class="i6">We behind en,</p>
+<p class="i6">Now can't vind en,</p>
+<p>But do mind en, an' do thank</p>
+<p>His me&auml;ker vor his little tank.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p232" id="p232"></a>
+
+<h4>THE POPLARS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If the&auml;se day's work an' burn&egrave;n sky</p>
+<p>'V'a-zent hwome you so tired as I,</p>
+<p>Let's zit an' rest 'ithin the screen</p>
+<p>O' my wold bow'r upon the green;</p>
+<p>Where I do goo myself an' let</p>
+<p>The even&egrave;n ai&euml;r cool my het,</p>
+<p>When dew do wet the grasses ble&auml;des,</p>
+<p>A-quiv'r&egrave;n in the dusky she&auml;des.</p></div>
+<a name="page233" id="page233"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;233]</span>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There yonder poplar trees do pla&yuml;</p>
+<p>Soft music, as their heads do swa&yuml;,</p>
+<p>While wind, a-rustl&egrave;n soft or loud,</p>
+<p>Do stream age&auml;n their lofty sh'oud;</p>
+<p>An' seem to heal the rankl&egrave;n zore</p>
+<p>My mind do meet wi' out o' door,</p>
+<p>When I've a-bore, in downcast mood,</p>
+<p>Zome evil where I look'd vor good.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O' they two poplars that do rise</p>
+<p>So high avore our na&iuml;ghbours' eyes,</p>
+<p>A-zet by gramfer, hand by hand,</p>
+<p>Wi' grammer, in their bit o' land;</p>
+<p>The woone upon the western zide</p>
+<p>Wer his, an' woone wer grammer's pride,</p>
+<p>An' since they died, we all do te&auml;ke</p>
+<p>Mwore ce&auml;re o'm vor the wold vo'k's se&auml;ke.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, wi' stems a-grow&egrave;n tall</p>
+<p>Avore the houses mossy wall,</p>
+<p>The while the moon ha' slowly past</p>
+<p>The leafy window, they've a-cast</p>
+<p>Their she&auml;des 'ithin the window pe&auml;ne;</p>
+<p>While childern have a-grown to men,</p>
+<p>An' then age&auml;n ha' left their beds,</p>
+<p>To bear their childern's heavy heads.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p233" id="p233"></a>
+
+<h4>THE LINDEN ON THE LAWN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No! Jenny, there's noo ple&auml;ce to charm</p>
+<p>My mind lik' yours at Woakland farm,</p>
+<p>A-pe&auml;rted vrom the busy town,</p>
+<p>By longsome miles ov a&iuml;ry down,</p>
+<p>Where woonce the meshy wall did gird</p>
+<p>Your flow'ry ge&auml;rden, an' the bird</p><a name="page234" id="page234"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;234]</span>
+<p>Did zing in zummer wind that stirr'd</p>
+<p>The spre&auml;d&egrave;n linden on the lawn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' now ov all the trees wi' she&auml;des</p>
+<p>A-wheel&egrave;n round in Blackmwore gle&auml;des,</p>
+<p>There's noo tall poplar by the brook,</p>
+<p>Nor elem that do rock the rook,</p>
+<p>Nor ash upon the shelv&egrave;n ledge,</p>
+<p>Nor low-bough'd woak bezide the hedge,</p>
+<p>Nor withy up above the zedge,</p>
+<p>So dear's thik linden on the lawn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor there, o' zummer nights, below</p>
+<p>The wall, we zot when a&iuml;r did blow,</p>
+<p>An' she&auml;ke the dewy rwose a-tied</p>
+<p>Up roun' the window's stwon&egrave;n zide.</p>
+<p>An' while the carter rod' along</p>
+<p>A-zing&egrave;n, down the dusky drong,</p>
+<p>There you did zing a sweeter zong</p>
+<p>Below the linden on the lawn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' while your warbled ditty wound</p>
+<p>Drough pla&yuml;some flights o' mellow sound,</p>
+<p>The night&egrave;nge&auml;le's sh'ill zong, that broke</p>
+<p>The stillness ov the dewy woak,</p>
+<p>Rung clear along the grove, an' smote</p>
+<p>To sudden stillness ev'ry droat;</p>
+<p>As we did zit, an' hear it float</p>
+<p>Below the linden on the lawn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Where dusky light did softly vall</p>
+<p>'Ithin the stwon&egrave;n-window'd hall,</p>
+<p>Avore your father's blink&egrave;n eyes,</p>
+<p>His even&egrave;n whiff o' smoke did rise,</p><a name="page235" id="page235"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;235]</span>
+<p>An' vrom the bedroom window's height</p>
+<p>Your little John, a-cloth'd in white,</p>
+<p>An' gwa&iuml;n to bed, did cry "good night"</p>
+<p>Towards the linden on the lawn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But now, as Dobbin, wi' a nod</p>
+<p>Vor ev'ry heavy step he trod,</p>
+<p>Did bring me on, to-night, avore</p>
+<p>The ge&auml;bled house's pworch&egrave;d door,</p>
+<p>Noo laugh&egrave;n child a-cloth'd in white,</p>
+<p>Look'd drough the stwon&egrave;n window's light,</p>
+<p>An' noo va&iuml;ce zung, in dusky night,</p>
+<p>Below the linden on the lawn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo, if you should ever vind</p>
+<p>My kindness seem to grow less kind,</p>
+<p>An' if upon my clouded fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>My smile should yield a frown its ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Then, Jenny, only laugh an' call</p>
+<p>My mind 'ithin the ge&auml;rden wall,</p>
+<p>Where we did pla&yuml; at even-fall,</p>
+<p>Below the linden on the lawn.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p235" id="p235"></a>
+
+<h4>OUR ABODE IN ARBY WOOD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">Though ice do hang upon the willows</p>
+<p class="i4">Out bezide the vrozen brook,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' storms do roar above our pillows,</p>
+<p class="i4">Drough the night, 'ithin our nook;</p>
+<p class="i2">Our even&egrave;n he'th's a-glow&egrave;n warm,</p>
+<p class="i2">Drough wring&egrave;n vrost, an' roar&egrave;n storm,</p>
+<p>Though winds mid me&auml;ke the wold beams she&auml;ke,</p>
+<p class="i4">In our abode in Arby Wood.</p></div>
+<a name="page236" id="page236"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;236]</span>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">An' there, though we mid hear the timber</p>
+<p class="i4">Creake avore the windy ra&iuml;n;</p>
+<p class="i2">An' clim&egrave;n ivy quiver, limber,</p>
+<p class="i4">Up age&auml;n the window pe&auml;ne;</p>
+<p class="i2">Our merry va&iuml;ces then do sound,</p>
+<p class="i2">In roll&egrave;n glee, or dree-va&iuml;ce round;</p>
+<p>Though wind mid roar, 'ithout the door,</p>
+<p class="i4">Ov our abode in Arby Wood.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p236-1" id="p236-1"></a>
+
+<h4>SLOW TO COME, QUICK AGONE.</h4>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! there's a house that I do know</p>
+<p>Besouth o' yonder trees,</p>
+<p>Where northern winds can hardly blow</p>
+<p>But in a softest breeze.</p>
+<p>An' there woonce sounded zongs an' te&auml;les</p>
+<p>Vrom va&iuml;ce o' ma&iuml;d or youth,</p>
+<p>An' sweeter than the night&egrave;nge&auml;le's</p>
+<p>Above the copses lewth.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How swiftly there did run the brooks,</p>
+<p>How swift wer winds in flight,</p>
+<p>How swiftly to their roost the rooks</p>
+<p>Did vlee o'er head at night.</p>
+<p>Though slow did seem to us the pe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>O' com&egrave;n days a-head,</p>
+<p>That now do seem as in a re&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Wi' a&iuml;r-birds to ha' vled.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p236-2" id="p236-2"></a>
+
+<h4>THE VIER-ZIDE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis zome vo'ks ja&yuml; to te&auml;ke the road,</p>
+<p>An' goo abro'd, a-wand'r&egrave;n wide,</p>
+<p>Vrom shere to shere, vrom ple&auml;ce to ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>The swiftest pe&auml;ce that vo'k can ride.</p>
+<p>But I've a ja&yuml; 'ithin the door,</p>
+<p>Wi' friends avore the vier-zide.</p></div>
+<a name="page237" id="page237"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;237]</span>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo, when winter skies do lour,</p>
+<p>An' when the Stour's a-roll&egrave;n wide,</p>
+<p>Drough bridge-voot ra&iuml;ls, a-pa&iuml;nted white,</p>
+<p>To be at night the traveller's guide,</p>
+<p>Gi'e me a ple&auml;ce that's warm an' dry,</p>
+<p>A-zitt&egrave;n nigh my vier-zide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor where do love o' kith an' kin,</p>
+<p>At vu'st begin, or grow an' wride,</p>
+<p>Till souls a-lov'd so young, be wold,</p>
+<p>Though never cwold, drough time nor tide</p>
+<p>But where in me'th their gather'd veet</p>
+<p>Do often meet&mdash;the vier-zide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If, when a friend ha' left the land,</p>
+<p>I shook his hand a-most wet-eyed,</p>
+<p>I velt too well the ob'n&egrave;n door</p>
+<p>Would le&auml;d noo mwore where he did bide</p>
+<p>An' where I he&auml;rd his va&iuml;ces sound,</p>
+<p>In me'th around the vier-zide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As I've a-zeed how vast do vall</p>
+<p>The mwold'r&egrave;n hall, the wold vo'ks pride,</p>
+<p>Where merry hearts wer woonce a-ved</p>
+<p>Wi' daily bread, why I've a-sigh'd,</p>
+<p>To zee the wall so green wi' mwold,</p>
+<p>An' vind so cwold the vier-zide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' Chris'mas still mid bring his me'th</p>
+<p>To ouer he'th, but if we tried</p>
+<p>To gather all that woonce did wear</p>
+<p>Gay fe&auml;ces there! Ah! zome ha' died,</p>
+<p>An' zome be gone to le&auml;ve wi' gaps</p>
+<p>O' miss&egrave;n laps, the vier-zide.</p></div>
+<a name="page238" id="page238"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;238]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But come now, bring us in your hand,</p>
+<p>A heavy brand o' woak a-dried,</p>
+<p>To cheer us wi' his het an' light,</p>
+<p>While vrosty night, so starry-skied,</p>
+<p>Go gather souls that time do spe&auml;re</p>
+<p>To zit an' she&auml;re our vier-zide.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p238" id="p238"></a>
+
+<h4>KNOWLWOOD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I don't want to sleep abrode, John,</p>
+<p>I do like my hwomeward road, John;</p>
+<p>An' like the sound o' Knowlwood bells the best.</p>
+<p>Zome would rove vrom ple&auml;ce to ple&auml;ce, John,</p>
+<p>Zome would goo from fe&auml;ce to fe&auml;ce, John,</p>
+<p>But I be happy in my hwomely nest;</p>
+<p>An' slight's the hope vor any ple&auml;ce bezide,</p>
+<p>To le&auml;ve the pla&iuml;n abode where love do bide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Where the shelv&egrave;n knap do vall, John,</p>
+<p>Under trees a-spring&egrave;n tall, John;</p>
+<p>'Tis there my house do show his sheen&egrave;n zide,</p>
+<p>Wi' his walls vor ever green, John,</p>
+<p>Under ivy that's a screen, John,</p>
+<p>Vrom wet an' het, an' ev'ry chang&egrave;n tide,</p>
+<p>An' I do little ho vor goold or pride,</p>
+<p>To le&auml;ve the pla&iuml;n abode where love do bide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There the bend&egrave;n stream do flow, John,</p>
+<p>By the mossy bridge's bow, John;</p>
+<p>An' there the road do wind below the hill;</p>
+<p>There the miller, white wi' meal, John,</p>
+<p>Deafen'd wi' his foamy wheel, John,</p>
+<p>Do stan' o' times a-look&egrave;n out o' mill:</p>
+<p>The while 'ithin his lightly-she&auml;ken door.</p>
+<p>His wheat&egrave;n flour do whit&egrave;n all his floor.</p></div>
+<a name="page239" id="page239"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;239]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When my daily work's a-done, John,</p>
+<p>At the zett&egrave;n o' the zun, John,</p>
+<p>An' I all day 've a-pla&yuml;'d a good man's pe&auml;rt,</p>
+<p>I do vind my ease a-blest, John,</p>
+<p>While my conscience is at rest, John;</p>
+<p>An' while noo worm's a-left to fret my heart;</p>
+<p>An' who vor finer hwomes o' restless pride,</p>
+<p>Would pass the pla&iuml;n abode where peace do bide?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>By a windor in the west, John,</p>
+<p>There upon my fiddle's breast, John,</p>
+<p>The strings do sound below my bow's white he&auml;ir;</p>
+<p>While a zing&egrave;n drush do swa&yuml;, John,</p>
+<p>Up an' down upon a spra&yuml;, John,</p>
+<p>An' cast his she&auml;de upon the window square;</p>
+<p>Vor birds do know their friends, an' build their nest,</p>
+<p>An' love to roost, where they can live at rest.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Out o' town the win' do bring, John,</p>
+<p>Peals o' bells when they do ring, John,</p>
+<p>An' roun' me here, at hand, my ear can catch</p>
+<p>The ma&iuml;d a-zing&egrave;n by the stream, John,</p>
+<p>Or carter whisl&egrave;n wi' his team, John,</p>
+<p>Or zing&egrave;n birds, or water at the hatch;</p>
+<p>An' zoo wi' sounds o' va&iuml;ce, an' bird an' bell,</p>
+<p>Noo hour is dull 'ithin our rwosy dell.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the darksome night do hide, John,</p>
+<p>Land an' wood on ev'ry zide, John;</p>
+<p>An' when the light's a-burn&egrave;n on my bwoard,</p>
+<p>Then vor pleasures out o' door, John,</p>
+<p>I've enough upon my vloor, John:</p>
+<p>My Jenny's lov&egrave;n deed, an' look, an' word,</p>
+<p>An' we be lwoth, lik' culvers zide by zide,</p>
+<p>To le&auml;ve the pla&iuml;n abode where love do bide.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page240" id="page240"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;240]</span>
+
+<h4>HALLOWED PLE&Auml;CES.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>At Woodcombe farm, wi' ground an' tree</p>
+<p>Hallow'd by times o' youthvul glee,</p>
+<p>At Chris'mas time I spent a night</p>
+<p>Wi' fe&auml;ces dearest to my zight;</p>
+<p>An' took my wife to tread, woonce mwore,</p>
+<p>Her ma&iuml;den hwome's vorse&auml;ken vloor,</p>
+<p>An' under stars that slowly wheel'd</p>
+<p>Aloft, above the keen-a&iuml;r'd vield,</p>
+<p>While night bedimm'd the rus'l&egrave;n copse,</p>
+<p>An' darken'd all the ridges' tops,</p>
+<p>The hall, a-hung wi' holly, rung</p>
+<p>Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There, on the he'th's well-hetted ground,</p>
+<p>Hallow'd by times o' zitt&egrave;n round,</p>
+<p>The brimvul mug o' cider stood</p>
+<p>An' hiss'd avore the ble&auml;z&egrave;n wood;</p>
+<p>An' zome, a-zitt&egrave;n knee by knee,</p>
+<p>Did tell their te&auml;les wi' hearty glee,</p>
+<p>An' others gamboll'd in a roar</p>
+<p>O' laughter on the stwon&egrave;n vloor;</p>
+<p>An' while the moss o' winter-tide</p>
+<p>Clung chilly roun' the house's zide,</p>
+<p>The hall, a-hung wi' holly, rung</p>
+<p>Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There, on the pworches bench o' stwone,</p>
+<p>Hallow'd by times o' youthvul fun,</p>
+<p>We laugh'd an' sigh'd to think o' ne&auml;mes</p>
+<p>That rung there woonce, in even&egrave;n ge&auml;mes;</p><a name="page241" id="page241"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;241]</span>
+<p>An' while the swa&yuml;&egrave;n cypress bow'd,</p>
+<p>In chilly wind, his darksome sh'oud</p>
+<p>An' honeyzuckles, be&auml;re o' le&auml;ves,</p>
+<p>Still reach'd the window-she&auml;d&egrave;n eaves</p>
+<p>Up where the clematis did trim</p>
+<p>The stwon&egrave;n arches mossy rim,</p>
+<p>The hall, a-hung wi' holly, rung</p>
+<p>Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There, in the ge&auml;rden's wall-bound square,</p>
+<p>Hallow'd by times o' stroll&egrave;n there,</p>
+<p>The winter wind, a-huffl&egrave;n loud,</p>
+<p>Did swa&yuml; the pear-tree's leafless sh'oud,</p>
+<p>An' be&auml;t the bush that woonce did bear</p>
+<p>The damask rwose vor Jenny's he&auml;ir;</p>
+<p>An' there the walk o' pe&auml;v&egrave;n stwone</p>
+<p>That burn'd below the zummer zun,</p>
+<p>Struck icy-cwold drough shoes a-wore</p>
+<p>By ma&iuml;dens vrom the hetted vloor</p>
+<p>In hall, a-hung wi' holm, where rung</p>
+<p>Vull many a tongue o' wold an' young.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There at the ge&auml;te that woonce wer blue</p>
+<p>Hallow'd by times o' pass&egrave;n drough,</p>
+<p>Light strawmotes rose in flagg&egrave;n flight,</p>
+<p>A-floated by the winds o' night,</p>
+<p>Where leafy ivy-stems did crawl</p>
+<p>In moonlight on the windblown wall,</p>
+<p>An' merry ma&iuml;dens' va&iuml;ces vled</p>
+<p>In echoes sh'ill, vrom wall to shed,</p>
+<p>As shiv'r&egrave;n in their frocks o' white</p>
+<p>They come to bid us there "Good night,"</p>
+<p>Vrom hall, a-hung wi' holm, that rung</p>
+<p>Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young.</p></div>
+<a name="page242" id="page242"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;242]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There in the narrow le&auml;ne an' drong</p>
+<p>Hallow'd by times o' gwa&iuml;n along,</p>
+<p>The lofty ashes' leafless sh'ouds</p>
+<p>Rose dark avore the clear-edged clouds,</p>
+<p>The while the moon, at girtest height,</p>
+<p>Bespread the pooly brook wi' light,</p>
+<p>An' as our child, in loose-limb'd rest,</p>
+<p>Lay pe&auml;le upon her mother's breast,</p>
+<p>Her waxen eyelids seal'd her eyes</p>
+<p>Vrom darksome trees, an' sheen&egrave;n skies,</p>
+<p>An' halls a-hung wi' holm, that rung</p>
+<p>Wi' many a tongue, o' wold an' young.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p242" id="p242"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WOLD WALL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Here, Je&auml;ne, we vu'st did meet below</p>
+<p>The leafy boughs, a-swing&egrave;n slow,</p>
+<p>Avore the zun, wi' even&egrave;n glow,</p>
+<p>Above our road, a-beam&egrave;n red;</p>
+<p>The grass in zwath wer in the me&auml;ds,</p>
+<p>The water gleam'd among the reeds</p>
+<p>In a&iuml;r a-ste&auml;l&egrave;n roun' the hall,</p>
+<p>Where ivy clung upon the wall.</p>
+<p>Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu!</p>
+<p>The wall is wold, my grief is new.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there you walk'd wi' blush&egrave;n pride,</p>
+<p>Where softly-wheel&egrave;n streams did glide,</p>
+<p>Drough she&auml;des o' poplars at my zide,</p>
+<p>An' there wi' love that still do live,</p>
+<p>Your fe&auml;ce did wear the smile o' youth,</p>
+<p>The while you spoke wi' age's truth,</p>
+<p>An' wi' a rwosebud's mossy ball,</p>
+<p>I deck'd your bosom vrom the wall.</p>
+<p>Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu!</p>
+<p>The wall is wold, my grief is new.</p></div>
+<a name="page243" id="page243"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;243]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But now when winter's ra&iuml;n do vall,</p>
+<p>An' wind do be&auml;t age&auml;n the hall,</p>
+<p>The while upon the wat'ry wall</p>
+<p>In spots o' grey the moss do grow;</p>
+<p>The ruf noo mwore shall overspread</p>
+<p>The pillor ov our weary head,</p>
+<p>Nor shall the rwose's mossy ball</p>
+<p>Behang vor you the house's wall.</p>
+<p>Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu!</p>
+<p>The wall is wold, my grief is new.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+
+<a name="p243" id="p243"></a>
+
+<h4>BLE&Auml;KE'S HOUSE IN BLACKMWORE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>John Ble&auml;ke he had a bit o' ground</p>
+<p>Come to en by his mother's zide;</p>
+<p>An' after that, two hunderd pound</p>
+<p>His uncle left en when he died;</p>
+<p>"Well now," cried John, "my mind's a-bent</p>
+<p>To build a house, an' pa&yuml; noo rent."</p>
+<p>An' Me&auml;ry gi'ed en her consent.</p>
+<p>"Do, do,"&mdash;the ma&iuml;dens cried</p>
+<p>"True, true,"&mdash;his wife replied.</p>
+<p>"Done, done,&mdash;a house o' brick or stwone,"</p>
+<p>Cried merry Ble&auml;ke o' Blackmwore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then John he call'd vor men o' skill,</p>
+<p>An' builders answer'd to his call;</p>
+<p>An' met to reckon, each his bill;</p>
+<p>Vor vloor an' window, ruf an' wall.</p>
+<p>An' woone did mark it on the groun',</p>
+<p>An' woone did think, an' scratch his crown,</p>
+<p>An' reckon work, an' write it down:</p>
+<p>"Zoo, zoo,"&mdash;woone tre&auml;desman cried,</p>
+<p>"True, true,"&mdash;woone mwore replied.</p>
+<p>"Aye, aye,&mdash;good work, an' have good pa&yuml;,"</p>
+<p>Cried merry Ble&auml;ke o' Blackmwore.</p></div>
+<a name="page244" id="page244"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;244]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The work begun, an' trowels rung,</p>
+<p>An' up the brick&egrave;n wall did rise,</p>
+<p>An' up the slant&egrave;n refters sprung,</p>
+<p>Wi' busy blows, an' lusty cries!</p>
+<p>An' woone brought planks to me&auml;ke a vloor,</p>
+<p>An' woone did come wi' durns or door,</p>
+<p>An' woone did zaw, an' woone did bore,</p>
+<p>"Brick, brick,&mdash;there down below,</p>
+<p>Quick, quick,&mdash;why b'ye so slow?"</p>
+<p>"Lime, lime,&mdash;why we do we&auml;ste the time,</p>
+<p>Vor merry Ble&auml;ke o' Blackmwore."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The house wer up vrom groun' to tun,</p>
+<p>An' thatch'd age&auml;n the ra&iuml;ny sky,</p>
+<p>Wi' windows to the noonday zun,</p>
+<p>Where rushy Stour do wander by.</p>
+<p>In coo'se he had a pworch to screen</p>
+<p>The inside door, when win's wer keen,</p>
+<p>An' out avore the pworch, a green.</p>
+<p>"Here! here!"&mdash;the childern cried:</p>
+<p>"Dear! dear!"&mdash;the wife replied;</p>
+<p>"There, there,&mdash;the house is perty fe&auml;ir,"</p>
+<p>Cried merry Ble&auml;ke o' Blackmwore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then John he ax'd his friends to warm</p>
+<p>His house, an' they, a goodish batch,</p>
+<p>Did come alwone, or e&auml;rm in e&auml;rm,</p>
+<p>All roads, a-me&auml;k&egrave;n vor his hatch:</p>
+<p>An' there below the clavy beam</p>
+<p>The kettle-spout did zing an' steam;</p>
+<p>An' there wer ce&auml;kes, an' tea wi' cream.</p>
+<p>"Lo! lo!"&mdash;the women cried;</p>
+<p>"Ho! ho!"&mdash;the men replied;</p>
+<p>"Health, health,&mdash;attend ye wi' your wealth,</p>
+<p>Good merry Ble&auml;ke o' Blackmwore."</p></div>
+<a name="page245" id="page245"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;245]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then John, a-pra&iuml;s'd, flung up his crown,</p>
+<p>All back a-laugh&egrave;n in a roar.</p>
+<p>They pra&iuml;s'd his wife, an' she look'd down</p>
+<p>A-simper&egrave;n towards the vloor.</p>
+<p>Then up they sprung a-danc&egrave;n reels,</p>
+<p>An' up went tooes, an' up went heels,</p>
+<p>A-wind&egrave;n roun' in knots an' wheels.</p>
+<p>"Brisk, brisk,"&mdash;the ma&iuml;dens cried;</p>
+<p>"Frisk, frisk,"&mdash;the men replied;</p>
+<p>"Quick, quick,&mdash;there wi' your fiddle-stick,"</p>
+<p>Cried merry Ble&auml;ke o' Blackmwore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the morrow's zun did sheen,</p>
+<p>John Ble&auml;ke beheld, wi' ja&yuml; an' pride,</p>
+<p>His brick&egrave;n house, an' pworch, an' green,</p>
+<p>Above the Stour's rushy zide.</p>
+<p>The zwallows left the lwonesome groves,</p>
+<p>To build below the thatch&egrave;n oves,</p>
+<p>An' robins come vor crumbs o' lwoaves:</p>
+<p>"Tweet, tweet,"&mdash;the birds all cried;</p>
+<p>"Sweet, sweet,"&mdash;John's wife replied;</p>
+<p>"Dad, dad,"&mdash;the childern cried so glad,</p>
+<p>To merry Ble&auml;ke o' Blackmwore.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p245" id="p245"></a>
+
+<h4>JOHN BLE&Auml;KE AT HWOME AT NIGHT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No: where the woak do overspread,</p>
+<p>The grass begloom'd below his head,</p>
+<p>An' water, under bow&egrave;n zedge,</p>
+<p>A-spring&egrave;n vrom the river's edge,</p>
+<p>Do ripple, as the win' do blow,</p>
+<p>An' sparkle, as the sky do glow;</p>
+<p>An' grey-leav'd withy-boughs do cool,</p>
+<p>Wi' darksome she&auml;des, the clear-fe&auml;ced pool,</p><a name="page246" id="page246"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;246]</span>
+<p>My chimny smoke, 'ithin the lew</p>
+<p>O' trees is there aris&egrave;n blue;</p>
+<p>Avore the night do dim our zight,</p>
+<p>Or candle-light, a-sheen&egrave;n bright,</p>
+<p>Do sparkle drough the window.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When crumpled leaves o' Fall do bound</p>
+<p>Avore the wind, along the ground,</p>
+<p>An' wither'd bennet-stems do stand</p>
+<p>A-quiv'r&egrave;n on the chilly land;</p>
+<p>The while the zun, wi' zett&egrave;n rim,</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;ve the workman's pathway dim;</p>
+<p>An' sweet-breath'd childern's hang&egrave;n heads</p>
+<p>Be laid wi' kisses, on their beds;</p>
+<p>Then I do seek my woodland nest,</p>
+<p>An' zit bezide my vier at rest,</p>
+<p>While night's a-spread, where day's a-vled,</p>
+<p>An' lights do shed their beams o' red,</p>
+<p>A-sparkl&egrave;n drough the window.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If winter's whistl&egrave;n winds do vreeze</p>
+<p>The snow a-gather'd on the trees,</p>
+<p>An' she&auml;des o' poplar stems do vall</p>
+<p>In moonlight up athirt the wall;</p>
+<p>An' icicles do hang below</p>
+<p>The oves, a-glitt'r&egrave;n in a row,</p>
+<p>An' ris&egrave;n stars do slowly ride</p>
+<p>Above the ruf's upslant&egrave;n zide;</p>
+<p>Then I do lay my weary head</p>
+<p>Asleep upon my peaceful bed,</p>
+<p>When middle-night ha' quench'd the light</p>
+<p>Ov embers bright, an' candles white</p>
+<p>A-beam&egrave;n drough the window.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div>
+
+  <br /><br />
+
+  <a name="page247" id="page247"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;247]</span>
+
+<h4>MILKEN TIME.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Twer when the busy birds did vlee,</p>
+<p>Wi' sheen&egrave;n wings, vrom tree to tree,</p>
+<p>To build upon the mossy lim',</p>
+<p>Their hollow nestes' rounded rim;</p>
+<p>The while the zun, a-zink&egrave;n low,</p>
+<p>Did roll along his even&egrave;n bow,</p>
+<p>I come along where wide-horn'd cows,</p>
+<p>'Ithin a nook, a-screen'd by boughs,</p>
+<p>Did stan' an' flip the white-hoop'd pa&iuml;ls</p>
+<p>Wi' he&auml;iry tufts o' swing&egrave;n ta&iuml;ls;</p>
+<p>An' there wer Jenny Coom a-gone</p>
+<p>Along the path a vew steps on.</p>
+<p>A-be&auml;r&egrave;n on her head, upstra&iuml;ght,</p>
+<p>Her pa&iuml;l, wi' slowly-rid&egrave;n wa&iuml;ght,</p>
+<p>An' hoops a-sheen&egrave;n, lily-white,</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n the even&egrave;n's slant&egrave;n light;</p>
+<p>An' zo I took her pa&iuml;l, an' left</p>
+<p>Her neck a-freed vrom all his heft;</p>
+<p>An' she a-look&egrave;n up an' down,</p>
+<p>Wi' she&auml;pely head an' glossy crown,</p>
+<p>Then took my zide, an' kept my pe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>A-talk&egrave;n on wi' smil&egrave;n fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' zett&egrave;n things in sich a light,</p>
+<p>I'd fa&iuml;n ha' he&auml;r'd her talk all night;</p>
+<p>An' when I brought her milk avore</p>
+<p>The ge&auml;te, she took it in to door,</p>
+<p>An' if her pa&iuml;l had but allow'd</p>
+<p>Her head to vall, she would ha' bow'd,</p>
+<p>An' still, as 'twer, I had the zight</p>
+<p>Ov her sweet smile droughout the night.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div>
+
+  <br /><br />
+
+<a name="page248" id="page248"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;248]</span>
+
+<h4>WHEN BIRDS BE STILL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor all the zun do le&auml;ve the sky,</p>
+<p>An' all the sounds o' day do die,</p>
+<p>An' noo mwore veet do walk the dim</p>
+<p>Vield-path to clim' the stiel's bars,</p>
+<p>Yeet out below the riz&egrave;n stars,</p>
+<p>The dark'n&egrave;n day mid le&auml;ve behind</p>
+<p>Woone tongue that I shall always vind,</p>
+<p>A-whisper&egrave;n kind, when birds be still.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo let the day come on to spread</p>
+<p>His kindly light above my head,</p>
+<p>Wi' zights to zee, an' sounds to hear,</p>
+<p>That still do cheer my thoughtvul mind;</p>
+<p>Or let en goo, an' le&auml;ve behind</p>
+<p>An' hour to stroll along the gle&auml;des,</p>
+<p>Where night do drown the beeches' she&auml;des,</p>
+<p>On grasses' ble&auml;des, when birds be still.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor when the night do lull the sound</p>
+<p>O' cows a-ble&auml;r&egrave;n out in ground,</p>
+<p>The sh'ill-va&iuml;c'd dog do stan' an' bark</p>
+<p>'Ithin the dark, bezide the road;</p>
+<p>An' when noo crackl&egrave;n waggon's lwoad</p>
+<p>Is in the le&auml;ne, the wind do bring</p>
+<p>The merry peals that bells do ring</p>
+<p>O ding-dong-ding, when birds be still.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo te&auml;ke, vor me, the town a-drown'd,</p>
+<p>'Ithin a storm o' rumbl&egrave;n sound,</p>
+<p>An' gi'e me va&iuml;ces that do speak</p>
+<p>So soft an' meek, to souls alwone;</p>
+<p>The brook a-gurgl&egrave;n round a stwone,</p><a name="page249" id="page249"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;249]</span>
+<p>An' birds o' day a-zing&egrave;n clear,</p>
+<p>An' leaves, that I mid zit an' hear</p>
+<p>A-rustl&egrave;n near, when birds be still.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p249" id="p249"></a>
+
+<h4>RIDEN HWOME AT NIGHT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! no, I quite inja&yuml;'d the ride</p>
+<p class="i2">Behind wold Dobbin's heavy heels,</p>
+<p>Wi' Je&auml;ne a-prattl&egrave;n at my zide,</p>
+<p class="i2">Above our pe&auml;ir o' spinn&egrave;n wheels,</p>
+<p>As grey-rin'd ashes' swa&yuml;&egrave;n tops</p>
+<p>Did creak in moonlight in the copse,</p>
+<p>Above the quiv'r&egrave;n grass, a-be&auml;t</p>
+<p>By wind a-blow&egrave;n drough the ge&auml;t.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If weary souls did want their sleep,</p>
+<p class="i2">They had a-zent vor sleep the night;</p>
+<p>Vor vo'k that had a call to keep</p>
+<p class="i2">Awake, lik' us, there still wer light.</p>
+<p>An' He that shut the sleepers' eyes,</p>
+<p>A-wa&iuml;t&egrave;n vor the zun to rise,</p>
+<p>Ha' too much love to let em know</p>
+<p>The ling'r&egrave;n night did goo so slow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But if my wife did catch a zight</p>
+<p class="i2">O' zome queer pollard, or a post,</p>
+<p>Poor soul! she took en in her fright</p>
+<p class="i2">To be a robber or a ghost.</p>
+<p>A two-stump'd withy, wi' a head,</p>
+<p>Mus' be a man wi' e&auml;rms a-spread;</p>
+<p>An' foam o' water, round a rock,</p>
+<p>Wer then a drown&egrave;n le&auml;dy's frock.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zome staddle stwones to bear a mow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer danc&egrave;n ve&auml;ries on the lag;</p>
+<p>An' then a snow-white sheeted cow</p>
+<p class="i2">Could only be, she thought, their flag,</p><a name="page250" id="page250"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;250]</span>
+<p>An owl a-vle&egrave;n drough the wood</p>
+<p>Wer men on watch vor little good;</p>
+<p>An' ge&auml;tes a slam'd by wind, did goo,</p>
+<p>She thought, to let a robber drough.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But after all, she lik'd the zight</p>
+<p class="i2">O' cows asleep in glitt'r&egrave;n dew;</p>
+<p>An' brooks that gleam'd below the light,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' dim vield paths 'ithout a shoe.</p>
+<p>An' ga&iuml;ly talk'd bezide my ears,</p>
+<p>A-laugh&egrave;n off her needless fears:</p>
+<p>Or had the childern uppermost</p>
+<p>In mind, instead o' thief or ghost.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when our house, wi' open door,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did rumble hollow round our heads,</p>
+<p>She he&auml;sten'd up to tother vloor,</p>
+<p class="i2">To zee the childern in their beds;</p>
+<p>An' vound woone little head awry,</p>
+<p>Wi' woone a-turn'd toward the sky;</p>
+<p>An' wrung her hands age&auml;n her breast,</p>
+<p>A-smil&egrave;n at their happy rest.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p250" id="p250"></a>
+
+<h4>ZUN-ZET.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Where the western zun, unclouded,</p>
+<p class="i2">Up above the grey hill-tops,</p>
+<p>Did sheen drough ashes, lofty sh'ouded</p>
+<p class="i2">On the turf bezide the copse,</p>
+<p class="i4">In zummer weather,</p>
+<p class="i4">We together,</p>
+<p class="i4">Sorrow-slight&egrave;n, work-vorgett&egrave;n.</p>
+<p class="i4">Gambol'd wi' the zun a-zetten.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There, by flow'ry bows o' bramble,</p>
+<p class="i2">Under hedge, in ash-tree she&auml;des,</p><a name="page251" id="page251"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;251]</span>
+<p>The dun-hea&iuml;r'd ho'se did slowly ramble</p>
+<p class="i2">On the grasses' dewy ble&auml;des,</p>
+<p class="i4">Zet free o' lwoads,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' stwony rwoads,</p>
+<p class="i4">Vorgetvul o' the lashes frett&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i4">Graz&egrave;n wi' the zun a-zett&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There wer rooks a-be&auml;t&egrave;n by us</p>
+<p class="i2">Drough the a&iuml;r, in a vlock,</p>
+<p>An' there the lively blackbird, nigh us,</p>
+<p class="i2">On the me&auml;ple bough did rock,</p>
+<p class="i4">Wi' ring&egrave;n droat,</p>
+<p class="i4">Where zunlight smote</p>
+<p class="i4">The yollow boughs o' zunny hedges</p>
+<p class="i4">Over western hills' blue edges.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Waters, drough the me&auml;ds a-purl&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">Glissen'd in the even&egrave;n's light,</p>
+<p>An' smoke, above the town a-curl&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">Melted slowly out o' zight;</p>
+<p class="i4">An' there, in glooms</p>
+<p class="i4">Ov unzunn'd rooms,</p>
+<p class="i4">To zome, wi' idle sorrows frett&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i4">Zuns did set avore their zett&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>We were out in ge&auml;mes and re&auml;ces,</p>
+<p class="i2">Loud a-laugh&egrave;n, wild in me'th,</p>
+<p>Wi' windblown he&auml;ir, an' zunbrown'd fe&auml;ces,</p>
+<p class="i2">Le&auml;pen on the high-sky'd e'th,</p>
+<p class="i4">Avore the lights</p>
+<p class="i4">Wer tin'd o' nights,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' while the gossamer's light nett&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i4">Sparkled to the zun a-zett&egrave;n.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div>
+
+  <br /><br />
+
+<a name="page252" id="page252"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;252]</span>
+
+<h4>SPRING.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now the zunny a&iuml;r's a-blow&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Softly over flowers a-grow&egrave;n;</p>
+<p>An' the sparkl&egrave;n light do quiver</p>
+<p>On the ivy-bough an' river;</p>
+<p>Ble&auml;t&egrave;n lambs, wi' woolly fe&auml;ces,</p>
+<p>Now do pla&yuml;, a-runn&egrave;n re&auml;ces;</p>
+<p class="i6">An' the spring&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i6">Lark's a-zing&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Lik' a dot avore the cloud,</p>
+<p>High above the ashes sh'oud.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Hous&egrave;n, in the open brightness,</p>
+<p>Now do sheen in spots o' whiteness;</p>
+<p>Here an' there, on upland ledges,</p>
+<p>In among the trees an' hedges,</p>
+<p>Where, along by vlocks o' sparrows,</p>
+<p>Chatt'r&egrave;n at the ploughman's harrows.</p>
+<p class="i6">Dousty rwoaded,</p>
+<p class="i6">Errand-lwoaded;</p>
+<p>Jenny, though her cloak is thin,</p>
+<p>Do wish en hwome upon the pin.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo come along, noo longer heedvul</p>
+<p>Ov the vi&euml;r, le&auml;tely needvul,</p>
+<p>Over grass o' slop&egrave;n le&auml;zes,</p>
+<p>Zing&egrave;n zongs in zunny breezes;</p>
+<p>Out to work in copse, a-moot&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Where the primrwose is a-shoot&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i6">An in gladness,</p>
+<p class="i6">Free o' sadness,</p>
+<p>In the warmth o' Spring vorget</p>
+<p>Leafless winter's cwold an' wet.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page253" id="page253"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;253]</span>
+
+<h4>THE ZUMMER HEDGE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As light do gle&auml;re in ev'ry ground,</p>
+<p>Wi' boughy hedges out a-round</p>
+<p>A-climm&egrave;n up the slop&egrave;n brows</p>
+<p>O' hills, in rows o' she&auml;dy boughs:</p>
+<p>The while the hawthorn buds do blow</p>
+<p>As thick as stars, an' white as snow;</p>
+<p>Or cream-white blossoms be a-spread</p>
+<p>About the guelder-rwoses' head;</p>
+<p>How cool's the she&auml;de, or warm's the lewth,</p>
+<p>Bezide a zummer hedge in blooth.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When we've a-work'd drough longsome hours,</p>
+<p>Till dew's a-dried vrom dazzl&egrave;n flow'rs,</p>
+<p>The while the climm&egrave;n zun ha' glow'd</p>
+<p>Drough mwore than half his daily road:</p>
+<p>Then where the she&auml;des do slily pass</p>
+<p>Athirt our veet upon the grass,</p>
+<p>As we do rest by lofty ranks</p>
+<p>Ov elems on the flow'ry banks;</p>
+<p>How cool's the she&auml;de, or warm's the lewth,</p>
+<p>Bezide a zummer hedge in blooth.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But oh! below woone hedge's zide</p>
+<p>Our ja&yuml; do come a-most to pride;</p>
+<p>Out where the high-stemm'd trees do stand,</p>
+<p>In row bezide our own free land,</p>
+<p>An' where the wide-leav'd clote mid zwim</p>
+<p>'Ithin our water's rushy rim:</p>
+<p>An' ra&iuml;n do vall, an' zuns do burn,</p>
+<p>An' each in season, and in turn,</p>
+<p>To cool the she&auml;de or warm the lewth</p>
+<p>Ov our own zummer hedge in blooth.</p></div>
+<a name="page254" id="page254"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;254]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How soft do she&auml;ke the zummer hedge&mdash;</p>
+<p>How soft do sway the zummer zedge&mdash;</p>
+<p>How bright be zummer skies an' zun&mdash;</p>
+<p>How bright the zummer brook do run;</p>
+<p>An' fe&auml;ir the flow'rs do bloom, to fe&auml;de</p>
+<p>Behind the swa&yuml;en mower's ble&auml;de;</p>
+<p>An' sweet be merry looks o' ja&yuml;,</p>
+<p>By we&auml;les an' pooks o' June's new ha&yuml;,</p>
+<p>Wi' smil&egrave;n age, an laugh&egrave;n youth,</p>
+<p>Bezide the zummer hedge in blooth.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p254" id="p254"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WATER CROWVOOT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O' small-fe&auml;c'd flow'r that now dost bloom</p>
+<p>To stud wi' white the shallow Frome,</p>
+<p>An' le&auml;ve the clote to spread his flow'r</p>
+<p>On darksome pools o' stwoneless Stour,</p>
+<p>When sof'ly-riz&egrave;n a&iuml;rs do cool</p>
+<p>The water in the sheen&egrave;n pool,</p>
+<p>Thy beds o' snow-white buds do gleam</p>
+<p>So fe&auml;ir upon the sky-blue stream,</p>
+<p>As whitest clouds, a-hang&egrave;n high</p>
+<p>Avore the blueness o' the sky;</p>
+<p>An' there, at hand, the thin-he&auml;ir'd cows,</p>
+<p>In a&iuml;ry she&auml;des o' withy boughs,</p>
+<p>Or up bezide the mossy ra&iuml;ls,</p>
+<p>Do stan' an' zwing their heavy ta&iuml;ls,</p>
+<p>The while the rippl&egrave;n stream do flow</p>
+<p>Below the dousty bridge's bow;</p>
+<p>An' quiv'r&egrave;n water-gleams do mock</p>
+<p>The we&auml;ves, upon the she&auml;ded rock;</p>
+<p>An' up athirt the cop&egrave;n stwone</p>
+<p>The la&iuml;tren bwoy do le&auml;n alwone,</p>
+<p>A-watch&egrave;n, wi' a stedvast look,</p>
+<p>The vall&egrave;n waters in the brook,</p><a name="page255" id="page255"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;255]</span>
+<p>The while the zand o' time do run</p>
+<p>An' le&auml;ve his errand still undone.</p>
+<p>An' oh! as long's thy buds would gleam</p>
+<p>Above the softly-slid&egrave;n stream,</p>
+<p>While sparkl&egrave;n zummer-brooks do run</p>
+<p>Below the lofty-clim&egrave;n zun,</p>
+<p>I only wish that thou could'st sta&yuml;</p>
+<p>Vor noo man's harm, an' all men's ja&yuml;.</p>
+<p>But no, the waterman 'ull we&auml;de</p>
+<p>Thy water wi' his deadly ble&auml;de,</p>
+<p>To slay thee even in thy bloom,</p>
+<p>Fair small-fe&auml;ced flower o' the Frome.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p255" id="p255"></a>
+
+<h4>THE LILAC.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Dear lilac-tree, a-spread&egrave;n wide</p>
+<p>Thy purple blooth on ev'ry zide,</p>
+<p>As if the hollow sky did shed</p>
+<p>Its blue upon thy flow'ry head;</p>
+<p>Oh! whether I mid she&auml;re wi' thee</p>
+<p>Thy open a&iuml;r, my bloom&egrave;n tree,</p>
+<p>Or zee thy blossoms vrom the gloom,</p>
+<p>'Ithin my zunless work&egrave;n-room,</p>
+<p>My heart do le&auml;p, but le&auml;p wi' sighs,</p>
+<p>At zight o' thee avore my eyes,</p>
+<p>For when thy grey-blue head do swa&yuml;</p>
+<p>In cloudless light, 'tis Spring, 'tis Ma&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis Spring, 'tis Ma&yuml;, as Ma&yuml; woonce shed</p>
+<p>His glow&egrave;n light above thy head&mdash;</p>
+<p>When thy green boughs, wi' bloomy tips,</p>
+<p>Did she&auml;de my childern's laugh&egrave;n lips;</p>
+<p>A-screen&egrave;n vrom the noonday gle&auml;re</p>
+<p>Their rwosy che&auml;ks an' glossy he&auml;ir;</p><a name="page256" id="page256"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;256]</span>
+<p>The while their mother's needle sped,</p>
+<p>Too quick vor zight, the snow-white thread,</p>
+<p>Unless her han', wi' lov&egrave;n ce&auml;re,</p>
+<p>Did smooth their little heads o' he&auml;ir;</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Or wi' a she&auml;ke, tie up anew</p>
+<p>Vor zome wild voot, a slipp&egrave;n shoe;</p>
+<p>An' I did le&auml;n bezide thy mound</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n the de&auml;sy-dappled ground,</p>
+<p>The while the woaken clock did tick</p>
+<p>My hour o' rest away too quick,</p>
+<p>An' call me off to work anew,</p>
+<p>Wi' slowly-ring&egrave;n strokes, woone, two.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo let me zee noo darksome cloud</p>
+<p>Bedim to-day thy flow'ry sh'oud,</p>
+<p>But let en bloom on ev'ry spra&yuml;,</p>
+<p>Drough all the days o' zunny Ma&yuml;.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p256" id="p256"></a>
+
+<h4>THE BLACKBIRD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Twer out at Penley I'd a-past</p>
+<p>A zummer day that went too vast,</p>
+<p>An' when the zett&egrave;n zun did spread</p>
+<p>On western clouds a vi'ry red;</p>
+<p>The elems' leafy limbs wer still</p>
+<p>Above the gravel-bedded rill,</p>
+<p>An' under en did warble sh'ill,</p>
+<p>Avore the dusk, the blackbird.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, in she&auml;des o' darksome yews,</p>
+<p>Did vlee the ma&iuml;dens on their tooes,</p>
+<p>A-laugh&egrave;n sh'ill wi' merry fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>When we did vind their hid&egrave;n ple&auml;ce.</p><a name="page257" id="page257"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;257]</span>
+<p>'Ithin the loose-bough'd ivys gloom,</p>
+<p>Or lofty lilac, vull in bloom,</p>
+<p>Or hazzle-wrides that gi'ed em room</p>
+<p>Below the zing&egrave;n blackbird.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Above our heads the rooks did vlee</p>
+<p>To reach their nested elem-tree,</p>
+<p>An' splash&egrave;n vish did rise to catch</p>
+<p>The wheel&egrave;n gnots above the hatch;</p>
+<p>An' there the miller went along,</p>
+<p>A-smil&egrave;n, up the she&auml;dy drong,</p>
+<p>But yeet too deaf to hear the zong</p>
+<p>A-zung us by the blackbird.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there the sh'illy-bubbl&egrave;n brook</p>
+<p>Did le&auml;ve behind his rocky nook,</p>
+<p>To run drough me&auml;ds a-chill'd wi' dew,</p>
+<p>Vrom hour to hour the whole night drough;</p>
+<p>But still his murmurs wer a-drown'd</p>
+<p>By va&iuml;ces that mid never sound</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n together on that ground,</p>
+<p>Wi' whisl&egrave;ns o' the blackbird.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p257" id="p257"></a>
+
+<h4>THE SLANT&Egrave;N LIGHT O' FALL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! Je&auml;ne, my ma&iuml;d, I stood to you,</p>
+<p class="i2">When you wer christen'd, small an' light,</p>
+<p>Wi' tiny e&auml;rms o' red an' blue,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-hang&egrave;n in your robe o' white.</p>
+<p>We brought ye to the hallow'd stwone,</p>
+<p>Vor Christ to te&auml;ke ye vor his own,</p>
+<p>When harvest work wer all a-done,</p>
+<p>An' time brought round October zun&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">The slant&egrave;n light o' Fall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' I can mind the wind wer rough,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' gather'd clouds, but brought noo storms,</p><a name="page258" id="page258"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;258]</span>
+<p>An' you did nessle warm enough,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Ithin your smil&egrave;n mother's e&auml;rms.</p>
+<p>The whindl&egrave;n grass did quiver light,</p>
+<p>Among the stubble, fe&auml;ded white,</p>
+<p>An' if at times the zunlight broke</p>
+<p>Upon the ground, or on the vo'k,</p>
+<p class="i4">'Twer slant&egrave;n light o' Fall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when we brought ye drough the door</p>
+<p class="i2">O' Knapton Church, a child o' gre&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>There cluster'd round a'most a score</p>
+<p class="i2">O' vo'k to zee your tiny fe&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>An' there we all did veel so proud,</p>
+<p>To zee an' op'n&egrave;n in the cloud,</p>
+<p>An' then a stream o' light break drough,</p>
+<p>A-sheen&egrave;n brightly down on you&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">The slant&egrave;n light o' Fall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But now your time's a-come to stand</p>
+<p class="i2">In church, a-blush&egrave;n at my zide,</p>
+<p>The while a bridegroom vrom my hand</p>
+<p class="i2">Ha' took ye vor his fa&iuml;thvul bride.</p>
+<p>Your christ&egrave;n ne&auml;me we gi'd ye here,</p>
+<p>When Fall did cool the we&auml;st&egrave;n year;</p>
+<p>An' now, age&auml;n, we brought ye drough</p>
+<p>The doorway, wi' your surne&auml;me new,</p>
+<p class="i4">In slant&egrave;n light o' Fall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo vur, Je&auml;ne, your life is fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' God ha' been your steadvast friend,</p>
+<p>An' mid ye have mwore ja&yuml; than ce&auml;re,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor ever, till your journey's end.</p>
+<p>An' I've a-watch'd ye on wi' pride,</p>
+<p>But now I soon mus' le&auml;ve your zide,</p>
+<p>Vor you ha' still life's spring-tide zun,</p>
+<p>But my life, Je&auml;ne, is now a-run</p>
+<p class="i4">To slant&egrave;n light o' Fall.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page259" id="page259"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;259]</span>
+
+<h4>THISSLEDOWN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The thissledown by wind's a-roll'd</p>
+<p class="i2">In Fall along the zunny pla&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>Did catch the grass, but lose its hold,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or cling to bennets, but in va&iuml;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But when it zwept along the grass,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' zunk below the hollow's edge,</p>
+<p>It lay at rest while winds did pass</p>
+<p class="i2">Above the pit-bescreen&egrave;n ledge.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The pla&iuml;n ha' brightness wi' his strife,</p>
+<p class="i2">The pit is only dark at best,</p>
+<p>There's pleasure in a worksome life,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' sloth is tiresome wi' its rest.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo, then, I'd sooner be&auml;r my pe&auml;rt,</p>
+<p class="i2">Ov all the trials vo'k do rue,</p>
+<p>Than have a deadness o' the heart,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' noth&egrave;n mwore to veel or do.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p259" id="p259"></a>
+
+<h4>THE MAY-TREE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I've a-come by the Ma&yuml;-tree all times o' the year,</p>
+<p class="i8">When leaves wer a-spring&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i8">When vrost wer a-sting&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>When cool-winded morn&egrave;n did show the hills clear,</p>
+<p>When night wer bedimm&egrave;n the vields vur an' near.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When, in zummer, his head wer as white as a sheet,</p>
+<p class="i8">Wi' white buds a-zwell&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' blossom, sweet-smell&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>While leaves wi' green leaves on his bough-zides did meet,</p>
+<p>A-she&auml;d&egrave;n the de&auml;isies down under our veet.</p></div>
+<a name="page260" id="page260"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;260]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When the zun, in the Fall, wer a-wander&egrave;n wan,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' haws on his head</p>
+<p class="i8">Did sprinkle en red,</p>
+<p>Or bright drops o' ra&iuml;n wer a-hung loosely on,</p>
+<p>To the tips o' the sprigs when the scud wer a-gone.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when, in the winter, the zun did goo low,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' keen win' did huffle,</p>
+<p class="i8">But never could ruffle</p>
+<p>The hard vrozen fe&auml;ce o' the water below,</p>
+<p>His limbs wer a-fringed wi' the vrost or the snow.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p260" id="p260"></a>
+
+<h4>LYDLINCH BELLS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When skies wer pe&auml;le wi' twinkl&egrave;n stars,</p>
+<p>An' whisl&egrave;n a&iuml;r a-ris&egrave;n keen;</p>
+<p>An' birds did le&auml;ve the icy bars</p>
+<p>To vind, in woods, their mossy screen;</p>
+<p>When vrozen grass, so white's a sheet,</p>
+<p>Did scrunchy sharp below our veet,</p>
+<p>An' water, that did sparkle red</p>
+<p>At zunzet, wer a-vrozen dead;</p>
+<p>The ringers then did spend an hour</p>
+<p>A-ring&egrave;n changes up in tow'r;</p>
+<p>Vor Lydlinch bells be good vor sound,</p>
+<p>An' liked by all the na&iuml;ghbours round.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' while along the leafless boughs</p>
+<p>O' rusl&egrave;n hedges, win's did pass,</p>
+<p>An' orts ov ha&yuml;, a-left by cows,</p>
+<p>Did russle on the vrozen grass,</p>
+<p>An' ma&iuml;dens' pa&iuml;ls, wi' all their work</p>
+<p>A-done, did hang upon their vurk,</p>
+<p>An' they, avore the fle&auml;m&egrave;n brand,</p>
+<p>Did te&auml;ke their needle-work in hand,</p>
+<p>The men did cheer their heart an hour</p>
+<p>A-ring&egrave;n changes up in tow'r;</p><a name="page261" id="page261"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;261]</span>
+<p>Vor Lydlinch bells be good vor sound,</p>
+<p>An' liked by all the na&iuml;ghbours round.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There sons did pull the bells that rung</p>
+<p>Their mothers' wedd&egrave;n peals avore,</p>
+<p>The while their fathers led em young</p>
+<p>An' blush&egrave;n vrom the churches door,</p>
+<p>An' still did cheem, wi' happy sound,</p>
+<p>As time did bring the Zundays round,</p>
+<p>An' call em to the holy ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Vor heav'nly gifts o' peace an' gre&auml;ce;</p>
+<p>An' vo'k did come, a-stream&egrave;n slow</p>
+<p>Along below the trees in row,</p>
+<p>While they, in merry peals, did sound</p>
+<p>The bells vor all the na&iuml;ghbours round.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the bells, wi' chang&egrave;n peal,</p>
+<p>Did smite their own vo'ks window-pe&auml;nes,</p>
+<p>Their sof'en'd sound did often steal</p>
+<p>Wi' west winds drough the Bagber le&auml;nes;</p>
+<p>Or, as the win' did shift, mid goo</p>
+<p>Where woody Stock do nessle lew,</p>
+<p>Or where the ris&egrave;n moon did light</p>
+<p>The walls o' Thornhill on the height;</p>
+<p>An' zoo, whatever time mid bring</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke their vive clear va&iuml;ces zing,</p>
+<p>Still Lydlinch bells wer good vor sound,</p>
+<p>An' liked by all the na&iuml;ghbours round.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p261" id="p261"></a>
+
+<h4>THE STAGE COACH.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! when the wold vo'k went abroad</p>
+<p class="i2">They thought it vast enough,</p>
+<p>If vow'r good ho'ses be&auml;t the road</p>
+<p class="i2">Avore the coach's ruf;</p>
+<p class="i6">An' there they zot,</p>
+<p class="i6">A-cwold or hot,</p><a name="page262" id="page262"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;262]</span>
+<p>An' roll'd along the ground,</p>
+<p class="i4">While the whip did smack</p>
+<p class="i4">On the ho'ses' back,</p>
+<p>An' the wheels went swiftly round, Good so's;</p>
+<p class="i8">The wheels went swiftly round.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Noo iron ra&iuml;ls did streak the land</p>
+<p class="i2">To keep the wheels in track.</p>
+<p>The coachman turn'd his vow'r-in-hand,</p>
+<p class="i2">Out right, or left, an' back;</p>
+<p class="i6">An' he'd stop avore</p>
+<p class="i6">A man's own door,</p>
+<p>To te&auml;ke en up or down:</p>
+<p class="i4">While the re&iuml;ns vell slack</p>
+<p class="i4">On the ho'ses' back,</p>
+<p>Till the wheels did rottle round age&auml;n;</p>
+<p class="i8">Till the wheels did rottle round.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, when wintry win' did blow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Athirt the pla&iuml;n an' hill,</p>
+<p>An' the zun wer pe&auml;le above the snow,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' ice did stop the mill,</p>
+<p class="i6">They did laugh an' joke</p>
+<p class="i6">Wi' cwoat or cloke,</p>
+<p>So warmly roun' em bound,</p>
+<p class="i4">While the whip did crack</p>
+<p class="i4">On the ho'ses' back,</p>
+<p>An' the wheels did trundle round, d'ye know;</p>
+<p class="i8">The wheels did trundle round.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the rumbl&egrave;n coach did pass</p>
+<p class="i2">Where huffl&egrave;n winds did roar,</p>
+<p>They'd stop to te&auml;ke a warm&egrave;n glass</p>
+<p class="i2">By the sign above the door;</p>
+<p class="i6">An' did laugh an' joke</p>
+<p class="i6">An' ax the vo'k</p><a name="page263" id="page263"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;263]</span>
+<p>The miles they wer vrom town,</p>
+<p class="i4">Till the whip did crack</p>
+<p class="i4">On the ho'ses back,</p>
+<p>An' the wheels did truckle roun', good vo'k;</p>
+<p class="i8">The wheels did truckle roun'.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' ga&iuml;ly rod wold age or youth,</p>
+<p class="i2">When zummer light did vall</p>
+<p>On woods in leaf, or trees in blooth,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or girt vo'ks parkzide wall.</p>
+<p class="i6">An' they thought they past</p>
+<p class="i6">The ple&auml;ces vast,</p>
+<p>Along the dousty groun',</p>
+<p class="i4">When the whip did smack</p>
+<p class="i4">On the ho'ses' back,</p>
+<p>An' the wheels spun swiftly roun'. Them days</p>
+<p class="i8">The wheels spun swiftly roun'.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p263" id="p263"></a>
+
+<h4>WAYFEAREN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The sky wer clear, the zunsheen glow'd</p>
+<p class="i2">On droop&egrave;n flowers drough the day,</p>
+<p>As I did be&auml;t the dousty road</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom hinder hills, a-fe&auml;d&egrave;n gray;</p>
+<p class="i2">Drough hollows up the hills,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom knaps along by mills,</p>
+<p>Vrom mills by churches tow'rs, wi' bells</p>
+<p>That twold the hours to woody dells.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the wind&egrave;n road do guide</p>
+<p class="i2">The thirsty vootman where mid flow</p>
+<p>The water vrom a rock bezide</p>
+<p class="i2">His vootsteps, in a sheen&egrave;n bow;</p>
+<p class="i2">The hand a-hollow'd up</p>
+<p class="i2">Do be&auml;t a goolden cup,</p>
+<p>To catch an' drink it, bright an' cool,</p>
+<p>A-vall&egrave;n light 'ithin the pool.</p></div>
+<a name="page264" id="page264"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;264]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo when, at last, I hung my head</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' thirsty lips a-burn&egrave;n dry,</p>
+<p>I come bezide a river-bed</p>
+<p class="i2">Where water flow'd so blue's the sky;</p>
+<p class="i2">An' there I me&auml;de me up</p>
+<p class="i2">O' coltsvoot leaf a cup,</p>
+<p>Where water vrom his lip o' gray,</p>
+<p>Wer sweet to sip thik burn&egrave;n day.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But when our work is right, a ja&yuml;</p>
+<p class="i2">Do come to bless us in its tra&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>An' hardships ha' zome good to pa&yuml;</p>
+<p class="i2">The thoughtvul soul vor all their p&auml;in:</p>
+<p class="i2">The het do sweet&egrave;n she&auml;de,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' weary lim's ha' me&auml;de</p>
+<p>A bed o' slumber, still an' sound,</p>
+<p>By woody hill or grassy mound.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' while I zot in sweet delay</p>
+<p class="i2">Below an elem on a hill,</p>
+<p>Where boughs a-halfway up did swa&yuml;</p>
+<p class="i2">In she&auml;des o' lim's above em still,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' blue sky show'd between</p>
+<p class="i2">The flutt'r&egrave;n le&auml;ves o' green;</p>
+<p>I woulden gi'e that gloom an' she&auml;de</p>
+<p>Vor any room that we&auml;lth ha' me&auml;de.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But oh! that vo'k that have the roads</p>
+<p class="i2">Where weary-vooted souls do pass,</p>
+<p>Would le&auml;ve bezide the stwone vor lwoads,</p>
+<p class="i2">A little strip vor zummer grass;</p>
+<p class="i2">That when the stwones do bruise</p>
+<p class="i2">An' burn an' gall our tooes,</p>
+<p>We then mid cool our veet on beds</p>
+<p>O' wild-thyme sweet, or de&auml;isy-heads.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page265" id="page265"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;265]</span>
+
+<h4>THE LEANE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>They do zay that a travell&egrave;n chap</p>
+<p class="i2">Have a-put in the newspe&auml;per now,</p>
+<p>That the bit o' green ground on the knap</p>
+<p class="i2">Should be all a-took in vor the plough.</p>
+<p>He do fancy 'tis easy to show</p>
+<p class="i2">That we can be but stunpolls at best,</p>
+<p>Vor to le&auml;ve a green spot where a flower can grow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or a voot-weary walker mid rest.</p>
+<p>Tis hedge-grubb&egrave;n, Thomas, an' ledge-grubb&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i6">Never a-done</p>
+<p>While a sov'r&egrave;n mwore's to be won.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The road, he do zay, is so wide</p>
+<p class="i2">As 'tis wanted vor travellers' wheels,</p>
+<p>As if all that did travel did ride</p>
+<p class="i2">An' did never get galls on their heels.</p>
+<p>He would le&auml;ve sich a thin strip o' groun',</p>
+<p class="i2">That, if a man's veet in his shoes</p>
+<p>Wer a-burn&egrave;n an' zore, why he coulden zit down</p>
+<p class="i2">But the wheels would run over his tooes.</p>
+<p>Vor 'tis me&auml;ke money, Thomas, an' te&auml;ke money,</p>
+<p class="i6">What's zwold an' bought</p>
+<p>Is all that is worthy o' thought.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Years agoo the le&auml;ne-zides did bear grass,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor to pull wi' the geeses' red bills,</p>
+<p>That did hiss at the vo'k that did pass,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or the bwoys that pick'd up their white quills.</p>
+<p>But shortly, if vower or vive</p>
+<p class="i2">Ov our gosl&egrave;ns do creep vrom the agg,</p>
+<p>They must mwope in the ge&auml;rden, mwore dead than alive,</p>
+<p class="i2">In a coop, or a-tied by the lag.</p><a name="page266" id="page266"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;266]</span>
+<p>Vor to catch at land, Thomas, an' snatch at land,</p>
+<p class="i6">Now is the plan;</p>
+<p>Me&auml;ke money wherever you can.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The childern wull soon have noo ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor to pla&yuml; in, an' if they do grow,</p>
+<p>They wull have a thin musheroom fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' their bodies so sumple as dough.</p>
+<p>But a man is a-me&auml;de ov a child,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' his limbs do grow worksome by pla&yuml;;</p>
+<p>An' if the young child's little body's a-spweil'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">Why, the man's wull the sooner deca&yuml;.</p>
+<p>But wealth is wo'th now mwore than health is wo'th;</p>
+<p class="i6">Let it all goo,</p>
+<p>If't 'ull bring but a sov'r&egrave;n or two.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor to breed the young fox or the he&auml;re,</p>
+<p class="i2">We can gi'e up whole e&auml;cres o' ground,</p>
+<p>But the greens be a-grudg'd, vor to rear</p>
+<p class="i2">Our young childern up healthy an' sound,</p>
+<p>Why, there woont be a-left the next age</p>
+<p class="i2">A green spot where their veet can goo free;</p>
+<p>An' the goocoo wull soon be committed to cage</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor a trespass in zomebody's tree.</p>
+<p>Vor 'tis lock&egrave;n up, Thomas, an' block&egrave;n up,</p>
+<p class="i6">Stranger or brother,</p>
+<p>Men mussen come nigh woone another.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Woone day I went in at a ge&auml;te,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' my child, where an echo did sound,</p>
+<p>An' the owner come up, an' did re&auml;te</p>
+<p class="i2">Me as if I would car off his ground.</p>
+<p>But his vield an' the grass wer a-let,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' the damage that he could a-took</p>
+<p>Wer at mwost that the while I did open the ge&auml;te</p>
+<p class="i2">I did rub roun' the eye on the hook.</p><a name="page267" id="page267"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;267]</span>
+<p>But 'tis drev&egrave;n out, Thomas, an' hev&egrave;n out.</p>
+<p class="i6">Trample noo grounds,</p>
+<p>Unless you be after the hounds.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! the Squi&euml;r o' Culver-dell Hall</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer as diff'rent as light is vrom dark,</p>
+<p>Wi' zome vo'k that, as even&egrave;n did vall,</p>
+<p class="i2">Had a-broke drough long grass in his park;</p>
+<p>Vor he went, wi' a smile, vor to meet</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' the trespassers while they did pass,</p>
+<p>An' he zaid, "I do fear you'll catch cwold in your veet,</p>
+<p class="i2">You've a-walk'd drough so much o' my grass."</p>
+<p>His mild words, Thomas, cut em like swords, Thomas,</p>
+<p class="i6">Newly a-whet,</p>
+<p>An' went vurder wi' them than a dreat.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p267" id="p267"></a>
+
+<h4>THE RAILROAD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I took a flight, awhile agoo,</p>
+<p>Along the ra&iuml;ls, a stage or two,</p>
+<p>An' while the heavy wheels did spin</p>
+<p>An' rottle, wi' a deafn&egrave;n din,</p>
+<p>In clouds o' steam, the zweep&egrave;n tra&iuml;n</p>
+<p>Did shoot along the hill-bound pla&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>As she&auml;des o' birds in flight, do pass</p>
+<p>Below em on the zunny grass.</p>
+<p>An' as I zot, an' look'd abrode</p>
+<p>On le&auml;nen land an' wind&egrave;n road,</p>
+<p>The ground a-spread along our flight</p>
+<p>Did vlee behind us out o' zight;</p>
+<p>The while the zun, our heav'nly guide,</p>
+<p>Did ride on wi' us, zide by zide.</p>
+<p>An' zoo, while time, vrom stage to stage,</p>
+<p>Do car us on vrom youth to age,</p><a name="page268" id="page268"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;268]</span>
+<p>The e'thly pleasures we do vind</p>
+<p>Be soon a-met, an' left behind;</p>
+<p>But God, behold&egrave;n vrom above</p>
+<p>Our lowly road, wi' yearn&egrave;n love,</p>
+<p>Do keep bezide us, stage by stage,</p>
+<p>Vrom be'th to youth, vrom youth to age.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p268-1" id="p268-1"></a>
+
+<h4>THE RAILROAD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' while I went 'ithin a tra&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>A-rid&egrave;n on athirt the pla&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>A-cle&auml;ren swifter than a hound,</p>
+<p>On twin-laid rails, the zwimm&egrave;n ground;</p>
+<p>I cast my eyes 'ithin a park,</p>
+<p>Upon a woak wi' grey-white bark,</p>
+<p>An' while I kept his head my mark,</p>
+<p>The rest did wheel around en.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when in life our love do cling</p>
+<p>The clwosest round zome single thing,</p>
+<p>We then do vind that all the rest</p>
+<p>Do wheel roun' that, vor vu'st an' best;</p>
+<p>Zoo while our life do last, mid nought</p>
+<p>But what is good an' fe&auml;ir be sought,</p>
+<p>In word or deed, or heart or thought,</p>
+<p>An' all the rest wheel round it.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p268-2" id="p268-2"></a>
+
+<h4>SEATS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When starbright ma&iuml;dens be to zit</p>
+<p class="i2">In silken frocks, that they do wear,</p>
+<p>The room mid have, as 'tis but fit,</p>
+<p class="i2">A han'some seat vor vo'k so fe&auml;ir;</p>
+<p>But we, in zun-dried vield an' wood,</p>
+<p class="i2">Ha' seats as good's a goolden chair.</p></div>
+<a name="page269" id="page269"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;269]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor here, 'ithin the woody drong,</p>
+<p class="i2">A ribb&egrave;d elem-stem do lie,</p>
+<p>A-vell'd in Spring, an' stratch'd along</p>
+<p class="i2">A bed o' gr&aelig;gles up knee-high,</p>
+<p>A she&auml;dy seat to rest, an' let</p>
+<p class="i2">The burn&egrave;n het o' noon goo by.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Or if you'd look, wi' wider scope,</p>
+<p class="i2">Out where the gray-tree'd pla&iuml;n do spread,</p>
+<p>The ash bezide the zunny slope,</p>
+<p class="i2">Do she&auml;de a cool-a&iuml;r'd de&auml;isy bed,</p>
+<p>An' grassy seat, wi' spread&egrave;n eaves</p>
+<p class="i2">O' rus'l&egrave;n leaves, above your head.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there the tra&iuml;n mid come in zight,</p>
+<p class="i2">Too vur to hear a-roll&egrave;n by,</p>
+<p>A-breath&egrave;n quick, in he&auml;sty flight,</p>
+<p class="i2">His breath o' tweil, avore the sky,</p>
+<p>The while the waggon, wi' his lwoad,</p>
+<p class="i2">Do crawl the rwoad a-wind&egrave;n nigh.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Or now the&auml;se happy holiday</p>
+<p class="i2">Do let vo'k rest their we&auml;ry lim's,</p>
+<p>An' lwoaded hay's a-hang&egrave;n gray,</p>
+<p class="i2">Above the waggon-wheels' dry rims,</p>
+<p>The me&auml;d ha' seats in we&auml;les or pooks,</p>
+<p class="i2">By wind&egrave;n brooks, wi' crumbl&egrave;n brims.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Or if you'd gi'e your thoughtvul mind</p>
+<p class="i2">To yonder long-vorse&auml;ken hall,</p>
+<p>Then te&auml;ke a stwon&egrave;n seat behind</p>
+<p class="i2">The ivy on the broken wall,</p>
+<p>An' learn how e'thly wealth an' might</p>
+<p class="i2">Mid clim' their height, an' then mid vall.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page270" id="page270"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;270]</span>
+
+<h4>SOUND O' WATER</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I born in town! oh no, my dawn</p>
+<p>O' life broke here beside the&auml;se lawn;</p>
+<p>Not where pent a&iuml;r do roll along,</p>
+<p>In darkness drough the wall-bound drong,</p>
+<p>An' never bring the goo-coo's zong,</p>
+<p>Nor sweets o' blossoms in the hedge,</p>
+<p>Or bend&egrave;n rush, or sheen&egrave;n zedge,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or sounds o' flow&egrave;n water.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The a&iuml;r that I've a-breath'd did she&auml;ke</p>
+<p>The draps o' ra&iuml;n upon the bre&auml;ke,</p>
+<p>An' bear aloft the swing&egrave;n lark,</p>
+<p>An' huffle roun' the elem's bark,</p>
+<p>In boughy grove, an' woody park,</p>
+<p>An' brought us down the dewy dells,</p>
+<p>The high-wound zongs o' nightinge&auml;les.</p>
+<p class="i2">An' sounds o' flow&egrave;n water.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the zun, wi' vi'ry rim,</p>
+<p>'S a-zink&egrave;n low, an' wear&egrave;n dim,</p>
+<p>Here I, a-most too tired to stand,</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;ve my work that's under hand</p>
+<p>In pathless wood or oben land,</p>
+<p>To rest 'ithin my thatch&egrave;n oves,</p>
+<p>Wi' rusl&egrave;n win's in leafy groves,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' sounds o' flow&egrave;n water.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p270" id="p270"></a>
+
+<h4>TREES BE COMPANY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When zummer's burn&egrave;n het's a-shed</p>
+<p>Upon the droop&egrave;n grasses head,</p>
+<p>A-drev&egrave;n under she&auml;dy leaves</p>
+<p>The workvo'k in their snow-white sleeves,</p><a name="page271" id="page271"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;271]</span>
+<p>We then mid yearn to clim' the height,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where thorns be white, above the vern;</p>
+<p>An' a&iuml;r do turn the zunsheen's might</p>
+<p class="i2">To softer light too weak to burn&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">On woodless downs we mid be free,</p>
+<p class="i4">But lowland trees be company.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Though downs mid show a wider view</p>
+<p>O' green a-reach&egrave;n into blue</p>
+<p>Than roads a-wind&egrave;n in the glen,</p>
+<p>An' ring&egrave;n wi' the sounds o' men;</p>
+<p>The thissle's crown o' red an' blue</p>
+<p class="i2">In Fall's cwold dew do wither brown,</p>
+<p>An' larks come down 'ithin the lew,</p>
+<p class="i2">As storms do brew, an' skies do frown&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">An' though the down do let us free,</p>
+<p class="i4">The lowland trees be company.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Where birds do zing, below the zun,</p>
+<p>In trees above the blue-smok'd tun,</p>
+<p>An' she&auml;des o' stems do overstratch</p>
+<p>The mossy path 'ithin the hatch;</p>
+<p>If leaves be bright up over head,</p>
+<p class="i2">When Ma&yuml; do shed its glitt'r&egrave;n light;</p>
+<p>Or, in the blight o' Fall, do spread</p>
+<p class="i2">A yollow bed avore our zight&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">Whatever season it mid be,</p>
+<p class="i4">The trees be always company.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When dusky night do nearly hide</p>
+<p>The path along the hedge's zide,</p>
+<p>An' dailight's hwomely sounds be still</p>
+<p>But sounds o' water at the mill;</p>
+<p>Then if noo fe&auml;ce we long'd to greet</p>
+<p class="i2">Could come to meet our lwonesome tre&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Or if noo pe&auml;ce o' weary veet,</p><a name="page272" id="page272"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;272]</span>
+<p class="i2">However fleet, could reach its ple&auml;ce&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">However lwonesome we mid be,</p>
+<p class="i4">The trees would still be company.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p272" id="p272"></a>
+
+<h4>A PLE&Auml;CE IN ZIGHT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As I at work do look aroun'</p>
+<p>Upon the groun' I have in view,</p>
+<p>To yonder hills that still do rise</p>
+<p>Avore the skies, wi' backs o' blue;</p>
+<p>'Ithin the ridges that do vall</p>
+<p>An' rise roun' Blackmwore lik' a wall,</p>
+<p>'Tis yonder knap do te&auml;ke my zight</p>
+<p>Vrom dawn till night, the mwost ov all.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, in Ma&yuml;, 'ithin the lewth</p>
+<p>O' boughs in blooth, be she&auml;dy walks,</p>
+<p>An' cowslips up in yollow beds</p>
+<p>Do hang their heads on downy stalks;</p>
+<p>An' if the weather should be fe&auml;ir</p>
+<p>When I've a holiday to spe&auml;re,</p>
+<p>I'll te&auml;ke the chance o' gett&egrave;n drough</p>
+<p>An hour or two wi' zome vo'k there.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there I now can dimly zee</p>
+<p>The elem-tree upon the mound,</p>
+<p>An' there me&auml;ke out the high-bough'd grove</p>
+<p>An' narrow drove by Redcliff ground;</p>
+<p>An' there by trees a-ris&egrave;n tall,</p>
+<p>The glow&egrave;n zunlight now do vall,</p>
+<p>Wi' shortest she&auml;des o' middle day,</p>
+<p>Upon the gray wold house's wall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' I can zee avore the sky</p>
+<p>A-ris&egrave;n high the churches speer,</p>
+<p>Wi' bells that I do goo to swing,</p>
+<p>An' like to ring, an' like to hear;</p><a name="page273" id="page273"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;273]</span>
+<p>An' if I've luck upon my zide,</p>
+<p>They bells shall sound bwoth loud an' wide,</p>
+<p>A peal above they slopes o' gray,</p>
+<p>Zome merry day wi' Je&auml;ne a bride.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p273" id="p273"></a>
+
+<h4>GWAIN TO BROOKWELL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>At Easter, though the wind wer high,</p>
+<p>We vound we had a zunny sky,</p>
+<p>An' zoo wold Dobbin had to trudge</p>
+<p>His dousty road by knap an' brudge,</p>
+<p>An' jog, wi' hang&egrave;n vetterlocks</p>
+<p>A-she&auml;k&egrave;n roun' his heavy hocks,</p>
+<p>An' us, a lwoad not much too small,</p>
+<p>A-rid&egrave;n out to Brookwell Hall;</p>
+<p>An' there in doust vrom Dobbin's heels,</p>
+<p>An' green light-waggon's vower wheels,</p>
+<p>Our merry laughs did loudly sound,</p>
+<p>In roll&egrave;n winds athirt the ground;</p>
+<p>While sheen&egrave;n-ribbons' color'd stre&auml;ks</p>
+<p>Did flutter roun' the ma&iuml;dens' che&auml;ks,</p>
+<p>As they did zit, wi' smil&egrave;n lips,</p>
+<p>A-reach&egrave;n out their vinger-tips</p>
+<p>Toward zome te&auml;k&egrave;n ple&auml;ce or zight</p>
+<p>That they did shew us, left or right;</p>
+<p>An' woonce, when Jimmy tried to ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>A kiss on cousin Polly's fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>She push'd his hat, wi' wicked leers,</p>
+<p>Right off above his two red ears,</p>
+<p>An' there he roll'd along the groun'</p>
+<p>Wi' spread&egrave;n brim an' rounded crown,</p>
+<p>An' vound, at last, a cowpon's brim,</p>
+<p>An' launch'd hizzelf, to te&auml;ke a zwim;</p>
+<p>An' there, as Jim did run to catch</p>
+<p>His ne&auml;ked noddle's bit o' thatch,</p><a name="page274" id="page274"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;274]</span>
+<p>To zee his stra&iuml;n&egrave;ns an' his strides,</p>
+<p>We laugh'd enough to split our zides.</p>
+<p>At Harwood Farm we pass'd the land</p>
+<p>That father's father had in hand,</p>
+<p>An' there, in oben light did spread,</p>
+<p>The very groun's his cows did tread,</p>
+<p>An' there above the stwon&egrave;n tun</p>
+<p>Avore the dazzl&egrave;n morn&egrave;n zun,</p>
+<p>Wer still the roll&egrave;n smoke, the breath</p>
+<p>A-breath'd vrom his wold house's he'th;</p>
+<p>An' there did lie below the door,</p>
+<p>The drashol' that his vootsteps wore;</p>
+<p>But there his me&auml;te an' he bwoth died,</p>
+<p>Wi' hand in hand, an' zide by zide;</p>
+<p>Between the se&auml;me two peals a-rung,</p>
+<p>Two Zundays, though they wer but young,</p>
+<p>An' laid in sleep, their worksome hands,</p>
+<p>At rest vrom tweil wi' house or lands.</p>
+<p>Then vower childern laid their heads</p>
+<p>At night upon their little beds,</p>
+<p>An' never rose age&auml;n below</p>
+<p>A mother's love, or father's ho:</p>
+<p>Dree little ma&iuml;dens, small in fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' woone small bwoy, the fourth in ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Zoo when their heedvul father died,</p>
+<p>He call'd his brother to his zide,</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke en stand, in hiz own stead,</p>
+<p>His childern's guide, when he wer dead;</p>
+<p>But still avore zix years brought round</p>
+<p>The woodland goo-coo's zummer sound,</p>
+<p>He we&auml;sted all their little store,</p>
+<p>An' hardship drove em out o' door,</p>
+<p>To tweil till tweilsome life should end.</p>
+<p>'Ithout a single e'thly friend.</p>
+<p>But soon wi' Harwood back behind,</p>
+<p>An' out o' zight an' out o' mind,</p><a name="page275" id="page275"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;275]</span>
+<p>We went a-rottl&egrave;n on, an' me&auml;de</p>
+<p>Our way along to Brookwell Sle&auml;de;</p>
+<p>An' then we vound ourselves draw nigh</p>
+<p>The Le&auml;dy's Tow'r that rose on high,</p>
+<p>An' seem'd a-com&egrave;n on to meet,</p>
+<p>Wi' grow&egrave;n height, wold Dobbin's veet.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p275" id="p275"></a>
+
+<h4>BROOKWELL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, I do zay 'tis wo'th woone's while</p>
+<p>To be&auml;t the doust a good six mile</p>
+<p>To zee the ple&auml;ce the squier plann'd</p>
+<p>At Brookwell, now a-me&auml;de by hand;</p>
+<p>Wi' oben lawn, an' grove, an' pon',</p>
+<p>An' gravel-walks as cle&auml;n as bron;</p>
+<p>An' grass a'most so soft to tread</p>
+<p>As velvet-pile o' silken thread;</p>
+<p>An' mounds wi' m&aelig;sh, an' rocks wi' flow'rs,</p>
+<p>An' ivy-she&auml;ded zummer bow'rs,</p>
+<p>An' dribbl&egrave;n water down below</p>
+<p>The stwon&egrave;n arch&egrave;s lofty bow.</p>
+<p>An' there do sound the watervall</p>
+<p>Below a cavern's m&aelig;shy wall,</p>
+<p>Where pe&auml;le-green light do struggle down</p>
+<p>A leafy crevice at the crown.</p>
+<p>An' there do gush the foamy bow</p>
+<p>O' water, white as driven snow:</p>
+<p>An' there, a zitt&egrave;n all alwone,</p>
+<p>A little ma&iuml;d o' marble stwone</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;n her little che&auml;k azide</p>
+<p>Upon her lily han', an' bide</p>
+<p>Bezide the vall&egrave;n stream to zee</p>
+<p>Her pitcher vill'd avore her knee.</p>
+<p>An' then the brook, a-roll&egrave;n dark</p>
+<p>Below a le&auml;n&egrave;n yew-tree's bark,</p><a name="page276" id="page276"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;276]</span>
+<p>Wi' pla&yuml;some ripples that do run</p>
+<p>A-flash&egrave;n to the western zun,</p>
+<p>Do shoot, at last, wi' foamy shocks,</p>
+<p>Athirt a ledge o' craggy rocks,</p>
+<p>A-cast&egrave;n in his he&auml;sty flight,</p>
+<p>Upon the stwones a robe o' white;</p>
+<p>An' then age&auml;n do goo an' vall</p>
+<p>Below a bridge's arch&egrave;d wall,</p>
+<p>Where vo'k agwa&iuml;n athirt do pass</p>
+<p>Vow'r little bwoys a-cast in brass;</p>
+<p>An' woone do hold an angler's wand,</p>
+<p>Wi' steady hand, above the pond;</p>
+<p>An' woone, a-pwe&iuml;nt&egrave;n to the stream</p>
+<p>His little vinger-tip, do seem</p>
+<p>A-show&egrave;n to his playme&auml;tes' eyes,</p>
+<p>Where he do zee the vishes rise;</p>
+<p>An' woone age&auml;n, wi' smil&egrave;n lips,</p>
+<p>Do put a vish his han' do clips</p>
+<p>'Ithin a basket, loosely tied</p>
+<p>About his shoulder at his zide:</p>
+<p>An' after that the fourth do stand</p>
+<p>A-hold&egrave;n back his pretty hand</p>
+<p>Behind his little ear, to drow</p>
+<p>A stwone upon the stream below.</p>
+<p>An' then the hous&egrave;n, that be all</p>
+<p>Sich pretty hwomes, vrom big to small,</p>
+<p>A-look&egrave;n south, do cluster round</p>
+<p>A zunny ledge o' ris&egrave;n ground,</p>
+<p>Avore a wood, a-nestled warm,</p>
+<p>In lewth age&auml;n the northern storm,</p>
+<p>Where smoke, a-wreath&egrave;n blue, do spread</p>
+<p>Above the tuns o' dusky red,</p>
+<p>An' window-pe&auml;nes do glitter bright</p>
+<p>Wi' burn&egrave;n streams o' zummer light,</p>
+<p>Below the vine, a-tra&iuml;n'd to hem</p>
+<p>Their zides 'ithin his leafy stem,</p><a name="page277" id="page277"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;277]</span>
+<p>An' rangle on, wi' flutt'r&egrave;n leaves,</p>
+<p>Below the houses' thatchen eaves.</p>
+<p>An' drough a lawn a-spread avore</p>
+<p>The windows, an' the pworch&egrave;d door,</p>
+<p>A path do wind 'ithin a hatch,</p>
+<p>A-vast&egrave;n'd wi' a click&egrave;n latch,</p>
+<p>An' there up over ruf an' tun,</p>
+<p>Do stan' the smooth-wall'd church o' stwone,</p>
+<p>Wi' carv&egrave;d windows, thin an' tall,</p>
+<p>A-reach&egrave;n up the lofty wall;</p>
+<p>An' battlements, a-stann&egrave;n round</p>
+<p>The tower, ninety veet vrom ground,</p>
+<p>Vrom where a te&auml;p'r&egrave;n speer do spring</p>
+<p>So high's the morn&egrave;n lark do zing.</p>
+<p>Zoo I do zay 'tis wo'th woone's while</p>
+<p>To be&auml;t the doust a good six mile,</p>
+<p>To zee the ple&auml;ce the squier plann'd</p>
+<p>At Brookwell, now a-me&auml;de by hand.</p></div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p277" id="p277"></a>
+
+<h4>THE SHY MAN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! good Me&auml;ster Gwillet, that you mid ha' know'd,</p>
+<p>Wer a-bred up at Coomb, an' went little abroad:</p>
+<p>An' if he got in among strangers, he velt</p>
+<p>His poor heart in a twitter, an' ready to melt;</p>
+<p>Or if, by ill luck, in his rambles, he met</p>
+<p>Wi' zome ma&iuml;dens a-titt'r&egrave;n, he burn'd wi' a het,</p>
+<p>That shot all drough the lim's o'n, an' left a cwold zweat,</p>
+<p class="i4">The poor little chap wer so shy,</p>
+<p class="i4">He wer ready to drap, an' to die.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But at last 'twer the lot o' the poor little man</p>
+<p>To vall deeply in love, as the best ov us can;</p>
+<p>An' 'twer noo easy task vor a shy man to tell</p>
+<p>Sich a dazzl&egrave;n fe&auml;ir ma&iuml;d that he loved her so well;</p><a name="page278" id="page278"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;278]</span>
+<p>An' woone day when he met her, his knees nearly smote</p>
+<p>Woone another, an' then wi' a struggle he bro't</p>
+<p>A vew vords to his tongue, wi' some mwore in his droat.</p>
+<p class="i4">But she, 'ithout doubt, could soon vind</p>
+<p class="i4">Vrom two words that come out, zix behind.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo at langth, when he vound her so smil&egrave;n an' kind,</p>
+<p>Why he wrote her zome la&iuml;ns, vor to tell her his mind,</p>
+<p>Though 'twer then a hard task vor a man that wer shy,</p>
+<p>To be married in church, wi' a crowd stann&egrave;n by.</p>
+<p>But he twold her woone day, "I have housen an' lands,</p>
+<p>We could marry by licence, if you don't like banns,"</p>
+<p>An' he cover'd his eyes up wi' woone ov his han's,</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor his head seem'd to zwim as he spoke,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' the a&iuml;r look'd so dim as a smoke.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well! he vound a good na&iuml;ghbour to goo in his ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Vor to buy the goold ring, vor he hadden the fe&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>An' when he went up vor to put in the banns,</p>
+<p>He did she&auml;ke in his lags, an' did she&auml;ke in his han's.</p>
+<p>Then they ax'd vor her ne&auml;me, an' her parish or town,</p>
+<p>An' he gi'ed em a leaf, wi' her ne&auml;me a-wrote down;</p>
+<p>Vor he coulden ha' twold em outright, vor a poun',</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor his tongue wer so weak an' so loose,</p>
+<p class="i4">When he wanted to speak 'twer noo use.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo they went to be married, an' when they got there</p>
+<p>All the vo'k wer a-gather'd as if 'twer a fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>An' he thought, though his ple&auml;ce mid be pleaz&egrave;n to zome,</p>
+<p>He could all but ha' wish'd that he hadden a-come.</p>
+<p>The bride wer a-smil&egrave;n as fresh as a rwose,</p>
+<p>An' when he come wi' her, an' show'd his poor nose.</p>
+<p>All the little bwoys shouted, an' cried "There he goes,"</p>
+<p class="i4">"There he goes." Oh! vor his pe&auml;rt he velt</p>
+<p class="i4">As if the poor heart o'n would melt.</p></div>
+<a name="page279" id="page279"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;279]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when they stood up by the chancel together,</p>
+<p>Oh! a man mid ha' knock'd en right down wi' a veather,</p>
+<p>He did veel zoo ashe&auml;m'd that he thought he would rather</p>
+<p>He w&euml;rden the bridegroom, but only the father.</p>
+<p>But, though 'tis so funny to zee en so shy,</p>
+<p>Yeet his mind is so lowly, his a&iuml;ms be so high,</p>
+<p>That to do a me&auml;n deed, or to tell woone a lie,</p>
+<p class="i4">You'd vind that he'd shun mwore by half,</p>
+<p class="i4">Than to stan' vor vo'ks fun, or their laugh.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p279" id="p279"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WINTER'S WILLOW.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There Liddy zot bezide her cow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon her lowly seat, O;</p>
+<p>A hood did overhang her brow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Her pa&iuml;l wer at her veet, O;</p>
+<p>An' she wer kind, an' she wer fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>An' she wer young, an' free o' ce&auml;re;</p>
+<p>Vew winters had a-blow'd her he&auml;ir,</p>
+<p class="i2">Bezide the Winter's Willow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She idden woone a-rear'd in town</p>
+<p class="i2">Where many a ga&yuml;er lass, O,</p>
+<p>Do trip a-smil&egrave;n up an' down,</p>
+<p class="i2">So pe&auml;le wi' smoke an' gas, O;</p>
+<p>But here, in vields o' gre&auml;z&egrave;n herds,</p>
+<p>Her v&auml;ice ha' mingled sweetest words</p>
+<p>Wi' even&egrave;n che&auml;rms o' busy birds,</p>
+<p class="i2">Bezide the Winter's Willow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when, at last, wi' be&auml;t&egrave;n breast,</p>
+<p class="i2">I knock'd avore her door, O,</p>
+<p>She ax'd me in to te&auml;ke the best</p>
+<p class="i2">O' ple&auml;ces on the vloor, O;</p><a name="page280" id="page280"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;280]</span>
+<p>An' smil&egrave;n fe&auml;ir avore my zight,</p>
+<p>She blush'd bezide the yollow light</p>
+<p>O' ble&auml;z&egrave;n brands, while winds o' night</p>
+<p class="i2">Do she&auml;ke the Winter's Willow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' if there's readship in her smile,</p>
+<p class="i2">She don't begrudge to spe&auml;re, O,</p>
+<p>To zomebody, a little while,</p>
+<p class="i2">The empty woaken chair, O;</p>
+<p>An' if I've luck upon my zide,</p>
+<p>Why, I do think she'll be my bride</p>
+<p>Avore the leaves ha' twice a-died</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon the Winter's Willow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Above the coach-wheels' roll&egrave;n rims</p>
+<p class="i2">She never rose to ride, O,</p>
+<p>Though she do zet her comely lim's</p>
+<p class="i2">Above the mare's white zide, O;</p>
+<p>But don't become too proud to stoop</p>
+<p>An' scrub her milk&egrave;n pa&iuml;l's white hoop,</p>
+<p>Or zit a-milk&egrave;n where do droop,</p>
+<p class="i2">The wet-stemm'd Winter's Willow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' I've a cow or two in le&auml;ze,</p>
+<p class="i2">Along the river-zide, O,</p>
+<p>An' pa&iuml;ls to zet avore her knees,</p>
+<p class="i2">At dawn an' even&egrave;n-tide, O;</p>
+<p>An' there she still mid zit, an' look</p>
+<p>Athirt upon the woody nook</p>
+<p>Where vu'st I zeed her by the brook</p>
+<p class="i2">Bezide the Winter's Willow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo, who would heed the treeless down,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-be&auml;t by all the storms, O,</p>
+<p>Or who would heed the busy town,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where vo'k do goo in zwarms, O;</p><a name="page281" id="page281"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;281]</span>
+<p>If he wer in my house below</p>
+<p>The elems, where the vier did glow</p>
+<p>In Liddy's fe&auml;ce, though winds did blow</p>
+<p class="i2">Age&auml;n the Winter's Willow.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p281" id="p281"></a>
+
+<h4>I KNOW WHO.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, aye, vull rathe the zun mus' rise</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke us tired o' zunny skies,</p>
+<p>A-sheen&egrave;n on the whole day drough,</p>
+<p>From morn&egrave;n's dawn till even&egrave;n's dew.</p>
+<p>When trees be brown an' me&auml;ds be green,</p>
+<p>An' skies be blue, an' streams do sheen,</p>
+<p>An' thin-edg'd clouds be snowy white</p>
+<p>Above the bluest hills in zight;</p>
+<p>But I can let the daylight goo,</p>
+<p>When I've a-met wi'&mdash;I know who.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In Spring I met her by a bed</p>
+<p>O' laurels higher than her head;</p>
+<p>The while a rwose hung white between</p>
+<p>Her blushes an' the laurel's green;</p>
+<p>An' then in Fall, I went along</p>
+<p>The row of elems in the drong,</p>
+<p>An' he&auml;rd her zing bezide the cows,</p>
+<p>By yollow leaves o' me&auml;ple boughs;</p>
+<p>But Fall or Spring is fe&auml;ir to view</p>
+<p>When day do bring me&mdash;I know who.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when, wi' wint'r a-com&egrave;n roun',</p>
+<p>The purple he'th's a-fe&auml;d&egrave;n brown,</p>
+<p>An' hang&egrave;n vern's a-she&auml;k&egrave;n dead,</p>
+<p>Bezide the hill's beshe&auml;ded head:</p>
+<p>An' black-wing'd rooks do glitter bright</p>
+<p>Above my head, in pe&auml;ler light;</p><a name="page282" id="page282"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;282]</span>
+<p>Then though the birds do still the glee</p>
+<p>That sounded in the zummer tree,</p>
+<p>My heart is light the winter drough,</p>
+<p>In me'th at night, wi'&mdash;I know who.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p282" id="p282"></a>
+
+<h4>JESSIE LEE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Above the timber's bend&egrave;n sh'ouds,</p>
+<p class="i2">The western wind did softly blow;</p>
+<p>An' up avore the knap, the clouds</p>
+<p class="i2">Did ride as white as driven snow.</p>
+<p>Vrom west to east the clouds did zwim</p>
+<p>Wi' wind that plied the elem's lim';</p>
+<p>Vrom west to east the stream did glide,</p>
+<p>A-sheen&egrave;n wide, wi' wind&egrave;n brim.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How fe&auml;ir, I thought, avore the sky</p>
+<p class="i2">The slowly-zwimm&egrave;n clouds do look;</p>
+<p>How soft the win's a-stream&egrave;n by;</p>
+<p class="i2">How bright do roll the we&auml;vy brook:</p>
+<p>When there, a-pass&egrave;n on my right,</p>
+<p>A-waik&egrave;n slow, an' tread&egrave;n light,</p>
+<p>Young Jessie Lee come by, an' there</p>
+<p>Took all my ce&auml;re, an' all my zight.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor lovely wer the looks her fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2">Held up avore the western sky:</p>
+<p>An' comely wer the steps her pe&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2">Did me&auml;ke a-walk&egrave;n slowly by:</p>
+<p>But I went east, wi' be&auml;t&egrave;n breast,</p>
+<p>Wi' wind, an' cloud, an' brook, vor rest,</p>
+<p>Wi' rest a-lost, vor Jessie gone</p>
+<p>So lovely on, toward the west.</p></div>
+<a name="page283" id="page283"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;283]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Blow on, O winds, athirt the hill;</p>
+<p class="i2">Zwim on, O clouds; O waters vall,</p>
+<p>Down m&aelig;shy rocks, vrom mill to mill;</p>
+<p class="i2">I now can overlook ye all.</p>
+<p>But roll, O zun, an' bring to me</p>
+<p>My day, if such a day there be,</p>
+<p>When zome dear path to my abode</p>
+<p>Shall be the road o' Jessie Lee.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p283" id="p283"></a>
+
+<h4>TRUE LOVE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As even&egrave;n a&iuml;r, in green-treed Spring,</p>
+<p>Do she&auml;ke the new-sprung pa'sley bed,</p>
+<p>An' wither'd ash-tree keys do swing</p>
+<p>An' vall a-flutt'r&egrave;n roun' our head:</p>
+<p>There, while the birds do zing their zong</p>
+<p>In bushes down the ash-tree drong,</p>
+<p>Come Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Your va&iuml;ce an' fe&auml;ce can me&auml;ke vor me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Below the budd&egrave;n ashes' height</p>
+<p>We there can linger in the lew,</p>
+<p>While boughs, a-gilded by the light,</p>
+<p>Do sheen avore the sky o' blue:</p>
+<p>But there by zett&egrave;n zun, or moon</p>
+<p>A-ris&egrave;n, time wull vlee too soon</p>
+<p>Wi' Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Her va&iuml;ce an' fe&auml;ce can me&auml;ke vor me.</p></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Down where the darksome brook do flow,</p>
+<p>Below the bridge's arch&egrave;d wall,</p>
+<p>Wi' alders dark, a-lean&egrave;n low,</p>
+<p>Above the gloomy watervall;</p>
+<p>There I've a-led ye hwome at night,</p>
+<p>Wi' noo fe&auml;ce else 'ithin my zight</p><a name="page284" id="page284"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;284]</span>
+<p>But yours so fe&auml;ir, an' sweet's the ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Your va&iuml;ce an' fe&auml;ce ha' me&auml;de me there.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' oh! when other years do come,</p>
+<p>An' zett&egrave;n zuns, wi' yollow gle&auml;re,</p>
+<p>Drough western window-pe&auml;nes, at hwome,</p>
+<p>Do light upon my even&egrave;n chair:</p>
+<p>While day do we&auml;ne, an' dew do vall,</p>
+<p>Be wi' me then, or else in call,</p>
+<p>As time do vlee, vor sweet's the ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Your va&iuml;ce an' fe&auml;ce do me&auml;ke vor me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! you do smile, a-think&egrave;n light</p>
+<p>O' my true words, but never mind;</p>
+<p>Smile on, smile on, but still your flight</p>
+<p>Would le&auml;ve me little ja&yuml; behind:</p>
+<p>But let me not be zoo a-tried</p>
+<p>Wi' you a-lost where I do bide,</p>
+<p>O Jessie Lee, in any ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Your va&iuml;ce an' fe&auml;ce ha' blest vor me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I'm sure that when a soul's a-brought</p>
+<p>To this our life ov a&iuml;r an' land,</p>
+<p>Woone mwore's a-mark'd in God's good thought,</p>
+<p>To help, wi' love, his heart an' hand.</p>
+<p>An' oh! if there should be in store</p>
+<p>An angel here vor my poor door,</p>
+<p>'Tis Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Her va&iuml;ce an' feace can me&auml;ke vor me.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p284" id="p284"></a>
+
+<h4>THE BEAN VIELD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Twer where the zun did warm the lewth,</p>
+<p>An' win' did whiver in the she&auml;de,</p>
+<p>The sweet-a&iuml;r'd be&auml;ns were out in blooth,</p>
+<p>Down there 'ithin the elem gle&auml;de;</p><a name="page285" id="page285"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;285]</span>
+<p>A yollow-banded bee did come,</p>
+<p>An' softly-pitch, wi' hush&egrave;n hum,</p>
+<p>Upon a be&auml;n, an' there did sip,</p>
+<p>Upon a swa&yuml;&egrave;n blossom's lip:</p>
+<p>An' there cried he, "Aye, I can zee,</p>
+<p>This blossom's all a-zent vor me."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A-jilted up an' down, astride</p>
+<p>Upon a lofty ho'se a-trot,</p>
+<p>The me&auml;ster then come by wi' pride,</p>
+<p>To zee the be&auml;ns that he'd a-got;</p>
+<p>An' as he zot upon his ho'se,</p>
+<p>The ho'se age&auml;n did snort an' toss</p>
+<p>His high-ear'd head, an' at the zight</p>
+<p>Ov all the blossom, black an' white:</p>
+<p>"Ah! ah!" thought he, the se&auml;me's the bee,</p>
+<p>"The&auml;se be&auml;ns be all a-zent vor me."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo let the worold's riches breed</p>
+<p>A strife o' cla&iuml;ms, wi' weak and strong,</p>
+<p>Vor now what cause have I to heed</p>
+<p>Who's in the right, or in the wrong;</p>
+<p>Since there do come drough yonder hatch,</p>
+<p>An' bloom below the house's thatch,</p>
+<p>The best o' ma&iuml;dens, an' do own</p>
+<p>That she is mine, an' mine alwone:</p>
+<p>Zoo I can zee that love do gi'e</p>
+<p>The best ov all good gifts to me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor whose be all the crops an' land</p>
+<p>A-won an' lost, an' bought, an zwold</p>
+<p>Or whose, a-roll'd vrom hand to hand,</p>
+<p>The highest money that's a-twold?</p>
+<p>Vrom man to man a pass&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>'Tis here to-day, to-morrow gone.</p><a name="page286" id="page286"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;286]</span>
+<p>But there's a bless&egrave;n high above</p>
+<p>It all&mdash;a soul o' stedvast love:</p>
+<p>Zoo let it vlee, if God do gi'e</p>
+<p>Sweet Jessie vor a gift to me.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p286" id="p286"></a>
+
+<h4>WOLD FRIENDS A-MET.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, vull my heart's blood now do roll,</p>
+<p>An' ga&yuml; do rise my happy soul,</p>
+<p>An' well they mid, vor here our veet</p>
+<p>Avore woone vier age&auml;n do meet;</p>
+<p>Vor you've avoun' my fe&auml;ce, to greet</p>
+<p>Wi' welcome words my startl&egrave;n ear.</p>
+<p>An' who be you, but John o' Weer,</p>
+<p>An' I, but William Wellburn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Here, light a candle up, to shed</p>
+<p>Mwore light upon a wold friend's head,</p>
+<p>An' show the smile, his fe&auml;ce woonce mwore</p>
+<p>Ha' brought us vrom another shore.</p>
+<p>An' I'll heave on a brand avore</p>
+<p>The vier back, to me&auml;ke good cheer,</p>
+<p>O' roar&egrave;n fle&auml;mes, vor John o' Weer</p>
+<p>To chat wi' William Wellburn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, aye, it mid be true that zome,</p>
+<p>When they do wander out vrom hwome,</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;ve their nearest friends behind,</p>
+<p>Bwoth out o' zight, an' out o' mind;</p>
+<p>But John an' I ha' ties to bind</p>
+<p>Our souls together, vur or near,</p>
+<p>For, who is he but John o' Weer.</p>
+<p>An' I, but William Wellburn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Look, there he is, with twinkl&egrave;n eyes,</p>
+<p>An' elbows down upon his thighs.</p><a name="page287" id="page287"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;287]</span>
+<p>A-chuckl&egrave;n low, wi' merry grin.</p>
+<p>Though time ha' roughen'd up his chin,</p>
+<p>'Tis still the se&auml;me true soul 'ithin,</p>
+<p>As woonce I know'd, when year by year,</p>
+<p>Thik very chap, thik John o' Weer,</p>
+<p>Did pla&yuml; wi' William Wellburn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come, John, come; don't be dead-alive</p>
+<p>Here, reach us out your clust'r o' vive.</p>
+<p>Oh! you be happy. Ees, but that</p>
+<p>Woon't do till you can laugh an' chat.</p>
+<p>Don't blinky, lik' a purr&egrave;n cat,</p>
+<p>But le&auml;p an' laugh, an' let vo'k hear</p>
+<p>What's happen'd, min, that John o' Weer</p>
+<p>Ha' met wi' William Wellburn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor zome, wi' selfishness too strong</p>
+<p>Vor love, do do each other wrong;</p>
+<p>An' zome do wrangle an' divide</p>
+<p>In hets ov anger, bred o' pride;</p>
+<p>But who do think that time or tide</p>
+<p>Can breed ill-will in friends so dear,</p>
+<p>As William wer to John o' Weer,</p>
+<p>An' John to William Wellburn?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If other vo'ks do gleen to zee</p>
+<p>How lov&egrave;n an' how glad we be,</p>
+<p>What, then, poor souls, they had but vew</p>
+<p>Sich happy days, so long agoo,</p>
+<p>As they that I've a-spent wi' you;</p>
+<p>But they'd hold woone another dear,</p>
+<p>If woone o' them wer John o' Weer,</p>
+<p>An' tother William Wellburn.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div>
+
+  <br /><br />
+
+<a name="page288" id="page288"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;288]</span>
+
+<h4>FIFEHEAD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Twer where my fondest thoughts do light,</p>
+<p>At Fifehead, while we spent the night;</p>
+<p>The millwheel's rest&egrave;n rim wer dry,</p>
+<p>An' houn's held up their even&egrave;n cry;</p>
+<p>An' lofty, drough the midnight sky,</p>
+<p>Above the vo'k, wi' heavy heads,</p>
+<p>Asleep upon their darksome beds,</p>
+<p>The stars wer all awake, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Noo birds o' day wer out to spread</p>
+<p>Their wings above the gully's bed,</p>
+<p>An' darkness roun' the elem-tree</p>
+<p>'D a-still'd the charmy childern's glee.</p>
+<p>All he'ths wer cwold but woone, where we</p>
+<p>Wer ga&yuml;, 'tis true, but ga&yuml; an' wise,</p>
+<p>An' laugh'd in light o' ma&iuml;den's eyes,</p>
+<p>That glissen'd wide awake, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when we all, lik' loosen'd hounds,</p>
+<p>Broke out o' doors, wi' merry sounds,</p>
+<p>Our friends among the pla&yuml;some team,</p>
+<p>All brought us gw&auml;in so vur's the stream.</p>
+<p>But Je&auml;ne, that there, below a gleam</p>
+<p>O' light, watch'd woone o's out o' zight;</p>
+<p>Vor will&egrave;nly, vor his "Good night,"</p>
+<p>She'd longer bide awake, John.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' while up <i>Leighs</i> we stepp'd along</p>
+<p>Our grassy path, wi' joke an' zong,</p>
+<p>There <i>Plumber</i>, wi' its woody ground,</p>
+<p>O' slop&egrave;n knaps a-screen'd around,</p>
+<p>Rose dim 'ithout a breath o' sound,</p>
+<p>The wold abode o' squiers a-gone,</p>
+<p>Though while they lay a-sleep&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>Their stars wer still awake, John.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page289" id="page289"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;289]</span>
+
+<h4>IVY HALL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If I've a-stream'd below a storm,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' not a-velt the ra&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>An' if I ever velt me warm,</p>
+<p class="i2">In snow upon the pla&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>'Twer when, as even&egrave;n skies wer dim,</p>
+<p>An' vields below my eyes wer dim,</p>
+<p>I went alwone at even&egrave;n-fall,</p>
+<p>Athirt the vields to Ivy Hall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I voun' the wind upon the hill,</p>
+<p class="i2">Last night, a-roar&egrave;n loud,</p>
+<p>An' rubb&egrave;n boughs a-creak&egrave;n sh'ill</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon the ashes' sh'oud;</p>
+<p>But oh! the reel&egrave;n copse mid groan;</p>
+<p>An' timber's lofty tops mid groan;</p>
+<p>The huffl&egrave;n winds be music all,</p>
+<p>Bezide my road to Ivy Hall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A she&auml;dy grove o' ribb&egrave;d woaks,</p>
+<p class="i2">Is Wootton's shelter'd nest,</p>
+<p>An' woaks do keep the winter's strokes</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom Knapton's even&egrave;n rest.</p>
+<p>An' woaks age&auml;n wi' bossy stems,</p>
+<p>An' elems wi' their mossy stems,</p>
+<p>Do rise to screen the leafy wall</p>
+<p>An' stwon&egrave;n ruf ov Ivy Hall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The darksome clouds mid fling their sleet.</p>
+<p class="i2">An' vrost mid pinch me blue,</p>
+<p>Or snow mid cling below my veet,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' hide my road vrom view.</p>
+<p>The winter's only ja&yuml; ov heart,</p>
+<p>An' storms do me&auml;ke me ga&yuml; ov heart,</p><a name="page290" id="page290"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;290]</span>
+<p>When I do rest, at even&egrave;n-fall,</p>
+<p>Bezide the he'th ov Ivy Hall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There leafy stems do clim' around</p>
+<p class="i2">The mossy stwon&egrave;n eaves;</p>
+<p>An' there be window-zides a-bound</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' quiv'r&egrave;n ivy-leaves.</p>
+<p>But though the sky is dim 'ithout,</p>
+<p>An' fe&auml;ces mid be grim 'ithout,</p>
+<p>Still I ha' smiles when I do call,</p>
+<p>At even&egrave;n-tide, at Ivy Hall.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p290-1" id="p290-1"></a>
+
+<h4>FALSE FRIENDS-LIKE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When I wer still a bwoy, an' mother's pride,</p>
+<p>A bigger bwoy spoke up to me so kind-like,</p>
+<p>"If you do like, I'll treat ye wi' a ride</p>
+<p>In the&auml;se wheel-barrow here." Zoo I wer blind-like</p>
+<p>To what he had a-work&egrave;n in his mind-like,</p>
+<p>An' mounted vor a passenger inside;</p>
+<p>An' com&egrave;n to a puddle, perty wide,</p>
+<p>He tipp'd me in, a-grinn&egrave;n back behind-like.</p>
+<p>Zoo when a man do come to me so thick-like,</p>
+<p>An' she&auml;ke my hand, where woonce he pass'd me by,</p>
+<p>An' tell me he would do me this or that,</p>
+<p>I can't help think&egrave;n o' the big bwoy's trick-like.</p>
+<p>An' then, vor all I can but wag my hat</p>
+<p>An' thank en, I do veel a little shy.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p290-2" id="p290-2"></a>
+
+<h4>THE BACHELOR.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No! I don't begrudge en his life,</p>
+<p class="i2">Nor his goold, nor his housen, nor lands;</p>
+<p>Te&auml;ke all o't, an' gi'e me my wife,</p>
+<p class="i2">A wife's be the cheapest ov hands.</p><a name="page291" id="page291"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;291]</span>
+<p class="i4">Lie alwone! sigh alwone! die alwone!</p>
+<p class="i10">Then be vorgot.</p>
+<p class="i4">No! I be content wi' my lot.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! where be the vingers so fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor to pat en so soft on the fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>To mend ev'ry stitch that do tear,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' keep ev'ry button in ple&auml;ce?</p>
+<p class="i4">Crack a-tore! brack a-tore! back a-tore!</p>
+<p class="i10">Buttons a-vled!</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor want ov a wife wi' her thread.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! where is the sweet-perty head</p>
+<p class="i2">That do nod till he's gone out o' zight?</p>
+<p>An' where be the two e&auml;rms a-spread,</p>
+<p class="i2">To show en he's welcome at night?</p>
+<p class="i4">Dine alwone! pine alwone! whine alwone!</p>
+<p class="i10">Oh! what a life!</p>
+<p class="i4">I'll have a friend in a wife.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when vrom a meet&egrave;n o' me'th</p>
+<p class="i2">Each husban' do le&auml;d hwome his bride,</p>
+<p>Then he do slink hwome to his he'th,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' his e&auml;rm a-hung down his cwold zide.</p>
+<p class="i4">Slink&egrave;n on! blink&egrave;n on! think&egrave;n on!</p>
+<p class="i10">Gloomy an' glum;</p>
+<p class="i4">Noth&egrave;n but dullness to come.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when he do onlock his door,</p>
+<p class="i2">Do rumble as hollow's a drum,</p>
+<p>An' the ve&auml;ries a-hid roun' the vloor,</p>
+<p class="i2">Do grin vor to see en so glum.</p>
+<p class="i4">Keep alwone! sleep alwone! weep alwone!</p>
+<p class="i10">There let en bide,</p>
+<p class="i4">I'll have a wife at my zide.</p></div>
+<a name="page292" id="page292"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;292]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But when he's a-laid on his bed</p>
+<p class="i2">In a zickness, O, what wull he do!</p>
+<p>Vor the hands that would lift up his head,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' she&auml;ke up his pillor anew.</p>
+<p class="i4">Ills to come! pills to come! bills to come!</p>
+<p class="i10">Noo soul to she&auml;re</p>
+<p class="i4">The trials the poor wratch must bear.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p292" id="p292"></a>
+
+<h4>MARRIED PE&Auml;IR'S LOVE WALK.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come let's goo down the grove to-night;</p>
+<p>The moon is up, 'tis all so light</p>
+<p>As day, an' win' do blow enough</p>
+<p>To she&auml;ke the leaves, but tidd&egrave;n rough.</p>
+<p>Come, Esther, te&auml;ke, vor wold time's se&auml;ke,</p>
+<p>Your hooded cloke, that's on the pin,</p>
+<p>An' wrap up warm, an' te&auml;ke my e&auml;rm,</p>
+<p>You'll vind it better out than in.</p>
+<p>Come, Etty dear; come out o' door,</p>
+<p>An' te&auml;ke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How charm&egrave;n to our very souls,</p>
+<p>Wer woonce your even&egrave;n ma&iuml;den strolls,</p>
+<p>The while the zett&egrave;n zunlight dyed</p>
+<p>Wi' red the beeches' western zide,</p>
+<p>But back avore your vinger wore</p>
+<p>The wedd&egrave;n ring that's now so thin;</p>
+<p>An' you did she&auml;re a mother's ce&auml;re,</p>
+<p>To watch an' call ye e&auml;rly in.</p>
+<p>Come, Etty dear; come out o' door,</p>
+<p>An' te&auml;ke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then age&auml;n, when you could slight</p>
+<p>The clock a-strik&egrave;n le&auml;te at night,</p>
+<p>The while the moon, wi' ris&egrave;n rim,</p>
+<p>Did light the beeches' eastern lim'.</p><a name="page293" id="page293"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;293]</span>
+<p>When I'd a-bound your vinger round</p>
+<p>Wi' thik goold ring that's now so thin,</p>
+<p>An' you had nwone but me alwone</p>
+<p>To te&auml;ke ye le&auml;te or e&auml;rly in.</p>
+<p>Come, Etty dear; come out o' door,</p>
+<p>An' te&auml;ke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But often when the western zide</p>
+<p>O' trees did glow at even&egrave;n-tide,</p>
+<p>Or when the le&auml;ter moon did light</p>
+<p>The beeches' eastern boughs at night,</p>
+<p>An' in the grove, where vo'k did rove</p>
+<p>The crumpled leaves did vlee an' spin,</p>
+<p>You could&egrave;n she&auml;re the pleasure there:</p>
+<p>Your work or childern kept ye in.</p>
+<p>Come, Etty dear, come out o' door,</p>
+<p>An' te&auml;ke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But ce&auml;res that zunk your oval chin</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n your bosom's lily skin,</p>
+<p>Vor all they me&auml;de our life so black,</p>
+<p>Be now a-lost behind our back.</p>
+<p>Zoo never mwope, in midst of hope,</p>
+<p>To slight our bless&egrave;ns would be sin.</p>
+<p>Ha! ha! well done, now this is fun;</p>
+<p>When you do like I'll bring ye in.</p>
+<p>Here, Etty dear; here, out o' door,</p>
+<p>We'll te&auml;ke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p293" id="p293"></a>
+
+<h4>A WIFE A-PRA&Iuml;S'D.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>'Twer Ma&yuml;, but ev'ry leaf wer dry</p>
+<p>All day below a sheen&egrave;n sky;</p>
+<p>The zun did glow wi' yollow gle&auml;re,</p>
+<p>An' cowslips blow wi' yollow gle&auml;re,</p><a name="page294" id="page294"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;294]</span>
+<p>Wi' grægles' bells a-droop&egrave;n low,</p>
+<p>An' bremble boughs a-stoop&egrave;n low;</p>
+<p>While culvers in the trees did coo</p>
+<p class="i2">Above the vall&egrave;n dew.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, wi' he&auml;ir o' glossy black,</p>
+<p>Bezide your neck an' down your back,</p>
+<p>You rambled ga&yuml; a-bloomfen fe&auml;ir;</p>
+<p>By boughs o' ma&yuml; a-bloom&egrave;n fe&auml;ir;</p>
+<p>An' while the birds did twitter nigh,</p>
+<p>An' water we&auml;ves did glitter nigh,</p>
+<p>You gather'd cowslips in the lew,</p>
+<p class="i2">Below the vall&egrave;n dew.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' now, while you've a-been my bride</p>
+<p>As years o' flow'rs ha' bloom'd an' died,</p>
+<p>Your smil&egrave;n fe&auml;ce ha' been my ja&yuml;;</p>
+<p>Your soul o' gre&auml;ce ha' been my ja&yuml;;</p>
+<p>An' wi' my even&egrave;n rest a-come,</p>
+<p>An' zunsheen to the west a-come,</p>
+<p>I'm glad to te&auml;ke my road to you</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom vields o' vall&egrave;n dew.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the ra&iuml;n do wet the ma&yuml;,</p>
+<p>A-bloom&egrave;n where we woonce did stra&yuml;,</p>
+<p>An' win' do blow along so vast,</p>
+<p>An' streams do flow along so vast;</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n the storms so rough abroad,</p>
+<p>An' angry tongues so gruff abroad,</p>
+<p>The love that I do meet vrom you</p>
+<p class="i2">Is lik' the vall&egrave;n dew.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' you be sprack's a bee on wing,</p>
+<p>In search ov honey in the Spring:</p>
+<p>The dawn-red sky do meet ye up;</p>
+<p>The birds vu'st cry do meet ye up;</p><a name="page295" id="page295"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;295]</span>
+<p>An' wi' your fe&auml;ce a-smil&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>An' busy hands a-tweil&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>You'll vind zome useful work to do</p>
+<p class="i2">Until the vall&egrave;n dew.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p295" id="p295"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WIFE A-LOST.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Since I noo mwore do zee your fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">Up ste&auml;irs or down below,</p>
+<p>I'll zit me in the lwonesome ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where flat-bough'd beech do grow:</p>
+<p>Below the beeches' bough, my love,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where you did never come,</p>
+<p>An' I don't look to meet ye now,</p>
+<p class="i2">As I do look at hwome.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Since you noo mwore be at my zide,</p>
+<p class="i2">In walks in zummer het,</p>
+<p>I'll goo alwone where mist do ride,</p>
+<p class="i2">Drough trees a-dripp&egrave;n wet:</p>
+<p>Below the ra&iuml;n-wet bough, my love,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where you did never come,</p>
+<p>An' I don't grieve to miss ye now,</p>
+<p class="i2">As I do grieve at home.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard</p>
+<p class="i2">Your va&iuml;ce do never sound,</p>
+<p>I'll eat the bit I can avword,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-vield upon the ground;</p>
+<p>Below the darksome bough, my love,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where you did never dine,</p>
+<p>An' I don't grieve to miss ye now,</p>
+<p class="i2">As I at hwome do pine.</p></div>
+<a name="page296" id="page296"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;296]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Since I do miss your va&iuml;ce an' fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2">In pra&yuml;er at eventide,</p>
+<p>I'll pra&yuml; wi' woone said va&iuml;ce vor gre&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2">To goo where you do bide;</p>
+<p>Above the tree an' bough, my love,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where you be gone avore,</p>
+<p>An' be a-wa&iuml;t&egrave;n vor me now,</p>
+<p class="i2">To come vor evermwore.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p296" id="p296"></a>
+
+<h4>THE THORNS IN THE GE&Auml;TE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! Me&auml;ster Collins overtook</p>
+<p>Our knot o' vo'k a-stann&egrave;n still,</p>
+<p>Last Zunday, up on Ivy Hill,</p>
+<p>To zee how strong the corn did look.</p>
+<p>An' he stay'd back awhile an' spoke</p>
+<p>A vew kind words to all the vo'k,</p>
+<p>Vor good or joke, an' wi' a smile</p>
+<p>Begun a-pla&yuml;&egrave;n wi' a chile.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The zull, wi' iron zide awry,</p>
+<p>Had long a-vurrow'd up the vield;</p>
+<p>The heavy roller had a-wheel'd</p>
+<p>It smooth vor showers vrom the sky;</p>
+<p>The bird-bwoy's cry, a-ris&egrave;n sh'ill,</p>
+<p>An' clacker, had a-left the hill,</p>
+<p>All bright but still, vor time alwone</p>
+<p>To speed the work that we'd a-done.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Down drough the wind, a-blow&egrave;n keen,</p>
+<p>Did gle&auml;re the nearly cloudless sky,</p>
+<p>An' corn in ble&auml;de, up ancle-high,</p>
+<p>'lthin the ge&auml;te did quiver green;</p>
+<p>An' in the ge&auml;te a-lock'd there stood</p>
+<p>A prickly row o' thorn&egrave;n wood</p><a name="page297" id="page297"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;297]</span>
+<p>Vor vo'k vor food had done their best,</p>
+<p>An' left to Spring to do the rest.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"The ge&auml;te," he cried, "a-seal'd wi' thorn</p>
+<p>Vrom harmvul veet's a-left to hold</p>
+<p>The ble&auml;de a-spring&egrave;n vrom the mwold,</p>
+<p>While God do ripen it to corn.</p>
+<p>An' zoo in life let us vulvil</p>
+<p>Whatever is our Me&auml;ker's will,</p>
+<p>An' then bide still, wi' peacevul breast,</p>
+<p>While He do manage all the rest.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p297" id="p297"></a>
+
+<h4>ANGELS BY THE DOOR.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! there be angels evermwore,</p>
+<p>A-pass&egrave;n onward by the door,</p>
+<p>A-zent to te&auml;ke our ja&yuml;s, or come</p>
+<p>To bring us zome&mdash;O Me&auml;rianne.</p>
+<p>Though doors be shut, an' bars be stout,</p>
+<p>Noo bolted door can keep em out;</p>
+<p>But they wull le&auml;ve us ev'ry thing</p>
+<p>They have to bring&mdash;My Me&auml;rianne.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo the days a-steal&egrave;n by,</p>
+<p>Wi' zuns a-rid&egrave;n drough the sky,</p>
+<p>Do bring us things to le&auml;ve us sad,</p>
+<p>Or me&auml;ke us glad&mdash;O Me&auml;rianne.</p>
+<p>The day that's mild, the day that's stern,</p>
+<p>Do te&auml;ke, in stillness, each his turn;</p>
+<p>An' evils at their worst mid mend,</p>
+<p>Or even end&mdash;My Me&auml;rianne.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But still, if we can only bear</p>
+<p>Wi' fa&iuml;th an' love, our pa&iuml;n an' ce&auml;re,</p>
+<p>We shan't vind miss&egrave;n ja&yuml;s a-lost,</p>
+<p>Though we be crost&mdash;O Me&auml;rianne.</p><a name="page298" id="page298"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;298]</span>
+<p>But all a-took to heav'n, an' stow'd</p>
+<p>Where we can't we&auml;ste em on the road,</p>
+<p>As we do wander to an' fro,</p>
+<p>Down here below&mdash;My Me&auml;rianne.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But there be ja&yuml;s I'd soonest choose</p>
+<p>To keep, vrom them that I must lose;</p>
+<p>Your workzome hands to help my tweil,</p>
+<p>Your cheerful smile&mdash;O Me&auml;rianne.</p>
+<p>The Zunday bells o' yonder tow'r,</p>
+<p>The moonlight she&auml;des o' my own bow'r,</p>
+<p>An' rest avore our vier-zide,</p>
+<p>At even&egrave;n-tide&mdash;My Me&auml;rianne.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p298" id="p298"></a>
+
+<h4>VO'K A-COM&Egrave;N INTO CHURCH.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The church do zeem a touch&egrave;n zight,</p>
+<p class="i2">When vo'k, a-com&egrave;n in at door,</p>
+<p class="i2">Do softly tread the long-a&iuml;l'd vloor</p>
+<p>Below the pillar'd arches' height,</p>
+<p class="i4">Wi' bells a-peal&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i4">Vo'k a-kneel&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Hearts a-heal&egrave;n, wi' the love</p>
+<p>An' pe&auml;ce a-zent em vrom above.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, wi' mild an' thoughtvul fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' downcast eyes, an' va&iuml;ces dum',</p>
+<p class="i2">The wold an' young do slowly come,</p>
+<p>An' te&auml;ke in stillness each his ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i4">A-zink&egrave;n slowly,</p>
+<p class="i4">Kneel&egrave;n lowly,</p>
+<p>Seek&egrave;n holy thoughts alwone,</p>
+<p>In pra&yuml;'r avore their Me&auml;ker's throne.</p></div>
+<a name="page299" id="page299"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;299]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there be sons in youthvul pride,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' fathers weak wi' years an' pa&iuml;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' daughters in their mother's tra&iuml;n.</p>
+<p>The tall wi' smaller at their zide;</p>
+<p class="i4">Heads in murn&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i4">Never turn&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Che&auml;ks a-burn&egrave;n, wi' the het</p>
+<p>O' youth, an' eyes noo tears do wet.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There friends do settle, zide by zide,</p>
+<p class="i2">The knower speechless to the known;</p>
+<p class="i2">Their va&iuml;ce is there vor God alwone</p>
+<p>To flesh an' blood their tongues be tied.</p>
+<p class="i4">Grief a-wring&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i4">Ja&yuml; a-zing&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Pray'r a-bring&egrave;n welcome rest</p>
+<p>So softly to the troubled breast.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p299" id="p299"></a>
+
+<h4>WOONE RULE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' while I zot, wi' thoughtvul mind,</p>
+<p>Up where the lwonesome Coombs do wind,</p>
+<p>An' watch'd the little gully slide</p>
+<p>So crook&egrave;d to the river-zide;</p>
+<p>I thought how wrong the Stour did zeem</p>
+<p>To roll along his rambl&egrave;n stream,</p>
+<p>A-runn&egrave;n wide the left o' south,</p>
+<p>To vind his mouth, the right-hand zide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But though his stream do te&auml;ke, at mill.</p>
+<p>An' eastward bend by Newton Hill,</p>
+<p>An' goo to lay his welcome boon</p>
+<p>O' da&iuml;ly water round Hammoon,</p><a name="page300" id="page300"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;300]</span>
+<p>An' then wind off age&auml;n, to run</p>
+<p>By Blanvord, to the noonday zun,</p>
+<p>'Tis only bound by woone rule all,</p>
+<p>An' that's to vall down steepest ground.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo, I thought, as we do bend</p>
+<p>Our wa&yuml; drough life, to reach our end,</p>
+<p>Our God ha' gi'ed us, vrom our youth,</p>
+<p>Woone rule to be our guide&mdash;His truth.</p>
+<p>An' zoo wi' that, though we mid te&auml;ke</p>
+<p>Wide rambles vor our call&egrave;ns' se&auml;ke,</p>
+<p>What is, is best, we needen fear,</p>
+<p>An' we shall steer to happy rest.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p300" id="p300"></a>
+
+<h4>GOOD ME&Auml;STER COLLINS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, Me&auml;ster Collins wer a-blest</p>
+<p>Wi' gre&auml;ce, an' now's a-gone to rest;</p>
+<p>An' though his heart did be&auml;t so meek</p>
+<p>'S a little child's, when he did speak,</p>
+<p>The godly wisdom ov his tongue</p>
+<p>Wer dew o' gre&auml;ce to wold an' young.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Twer woonce, upon a zummer's tide,</p>
+<p>I zot at Brookwell by his zide,</p>
+<p>Avore the le&auml;ke, upon the rocks,</p>
+<p>Above the water's idle shocks,</p>
+<p>As little pla&yuml;some we&auml;ves did zwim</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n the water's windy brim,</p>
+<p>Out where the lofty tower o' stwone</p>
+<p>Did stan' to years o' wind an' zun;</p>
+<p>An' where the zwell&egrave;n pillars bore</p>
+<p>A pworch above the heavy door,</p>
+<p>Wi' sister she&auml;des a-reach&egrave;n cool</p>
+<p>Athirt the stwones an' sparkl&egrave;n pool.</p></div>
+<a name="page301" id="page301"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;301]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I spoke zome word that me&auml;de en smile,</p>
+<p>O' girt vo'k's wealth an' poor vo'k's tweil,</p>
+<p>As if I pin'd, vor want ov gre&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>To have a lord's or squier's ple&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>"No, no," he zaid, "what God do zend</p>
+<p>Is best vor all o's in the end,</p>
+<p>An' all that we do need the mwost</p>
+<p>Do come to us wi' le&auml;st o' cost;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Why, who could live upon the e'th</p>
+<p>'Ithout God's g&iuml;ft ov a&iuml;r vor breath?</p>
+<p>Or who could bide below the zun</p>
+<p>If water didden rise an' run?</p>
+<p>An' who could work below the skies</p>
+<p>If zun an' moon did never rise?</p>
+<p>Zoo a&iuml;r an' water, an' the light,</p>
+<p>Be higher gifts, a-reckon'd right,</p>
+<p>Than all the goold the darksome cla&yuml;</p>
+<p>Can ever yield to zunny da&yuml;:</p>
+<p>But then the a&iuml;r is roun' our heads,</p>
+<p>Abroad by day, or on our beds;</p>
+<p>Where land do gi'e us room to bide,</p>
+<p>Or seas do spread vor ships to ride;</p>
+<p>An' He do zend his waters free,</p>
+<p>Vrom clouds to lands, vrom lands to sea:</p>
+<p>An' morn&egrave;n light do blush an' glow,</p>
+<p>'Ithout our tweil&mdash;'ithout our ho.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Zoo let us never pine, in sin,</p>
+<p>Vor gifts that ben't the best to win;</p>
+<p>The heaps o' goold that zome mid pile,</p>
+<p>Wi' sleepless nights an' peaceless tweil;</p>
+<p>Or manor that mid reach so wide</p>
+<p>As Blackmwore is vrom zide to zide,</p>
+<p>Or kingly swa&yuml;, wi' life or death,</p>
+<p>Vor helpless childern ov the e'th:</p><a name="page302" id="page302"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;302]</span>
+<p>Vor the&auml;se ben't gifts, as He do know,</p>
+<p>That He in love should vu'st bestow;</p>
+<p>Or else we should have had our she&auml;re</p>
+<p>O'm all wi' little tweil or ce&auml;re.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Ov all His choicest gifts, His cry</p>
+<p>Is, 'Come, ye moneyless, and buy.'</p>
+<p>Zoo blest is he that can but lift</p>
+<p>His prayer vor a happy gift."</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p302" id="p302"></a>
+
+<h4>HERRENSTON.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo then the le&auml;dy an' the squier,</p>
+<p class="i2">At Chris'mas, gather'd girt an' small,</p>
+<p>Vor me'th, avore their roar&egrave;n vier,</p>
+<p class="i2">An! roun' their bwoard, 'ithin the hall;</p>
+<p>An' there, in glitt'r&egrave;n rows, between</p>
+<p>The roun'-rimm'd ple&auml;tes, our knives did sheen,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' frothy e&auml;le, an' cup an' can,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor ma&iuml;d an' man, at Herrenston.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there the jeints o' beef did stand,</p>
+<p class="i2">Lik' cliffs o' rock, in goodly row;</p>
+<p>Where woone mid quarry till his hand</p>
+<p class="i2">Did tire, an' me&auml;ke but little show;</p>
+<p>An' after we'd a-took our seat,</p>
+<p>An' gre&auml;ce had been a-zaid vor meat,</p>
+<p class="i2">We zet to work, an' zoo begun</p>
+<p class="i2">Our fe&auml;st an' fun at Herrenston.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' mothers there, bezide the bwoards,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' little childern in their laps,</p>
+<p>Did stoop, wi' lov&egrave;n looks an' words,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' veed em up wi' bits an' draps;</p><a name="page303" id="page303"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;303]</span>
+<p>An' smil&egrave;n husbands went in quest</p>
+<p>O' what their wives did like the best;</p>
+<p class="i2">An' you'd ha' zeed a happy zight,</p>
+<p class="i2">Thik merry night, at Herrenston.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then the band, wi' each his leaf</p>
+<p class="i2">O' notes, above us at the zide,</p>
+<p>Play'd up the pra&iuml;se ov England's beef</p>
+<p class="i2">An' vill'd our hearts wi' English pride;</p>
+<p>An' leafy cha&iuml;ns o' garlands hung,</p>
+<p>Wi' dazzl&egrave;n stripes o' flags, that swung</p>
+<p class="i2">Above us, in a ble&auml;ze o' light,</p>
+<p class="i2">Thik happy night, at Herrenston.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then the clerk, avore the vier,</p>
+<p class="i2">Begun to lead, wi' smil&egrave;n fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>A carol, wi' the Monkton quire,</p>
+<p class="i2">That rung drough all the crowded ple&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>An' dins' o' words an' laughter broke</p>
+<p>In merry peals drough clouds o' smoke;</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor hardly wer there woone that spoke,</p>
+<p class="i2">But pass'd a joke, at Herrenston.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then man an' ma&iuml;d stood up by twos,</p>
+<p class="i2">In rows, drough passage, out to door,</p>
+<p>An' ga&iuml;ly be&auml;t, wi' nimble shoes,</p>
+<p class="i2">A dance upon the stwon&egrave;n floor.</p>
+<p>But who is worthy vor to tell,</p>
+<p>If she that then did bear the bell,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer woone o' Monkton, or o' Ce&auml;me,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or zome sweet ne&auml;me ov Herrenston.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo peace betide the girt vo'k's land,</p>
+<p class="i2">When they can stoop, wi' kindly smile,</p>
+<p>An' te&auml;ke a poor man by the hand,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' cheer en in his daily tweil.</p><a name="page304" id="page304"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;304]</span>
+<p>An' oh! mid He that's vur above</p>
+<p>The highest here, reward their love,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' gi'e their happy souls, drough gre&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">A higher ple&auml;ce than Herrenston.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p304" id="p304"></a>
+
+<h4>OUT AT PLOUGH.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Though cool avore the sheen&egrave;n sky</p>
+<p>Do vall the she&auml;des below the copse,</p>
+<p>The timber-trees, a-reach&egrave;n high,</p>
+<p>Ha' zunsheen on their lofty tops,</p>
+<p>Where yonder land's a-ly&egrave;n plow'd,</p>
+<p>An' red, below the snow-white cloud,</p>
+<p>An' vlocks o' pitch&egrave;n rooks do vwold</p>
+<p>Their wings to walk upon the mwold.</p>
+<p class="i4">While floods be low,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' buds do grow,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' a&iuml;r do blow, a-broad, O.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But though the a&iuml;r is cwold below</p>
+<p>The creak&egrave;n copses' darksome screen,</p>
+<p>The truest she&auml;de do only show</p>
+<p>How strong the warmer zun do sheen;</p>
+<p>An' even times o' grief an' pa&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>Ha' good a-com&egrave;n in their tra&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>An' 'tis but happiness do mark</p>
+<p>The she&auml;des o' sorrow out so dark.</p>
+<p class="i4">As tweils be sad,</p>
+<p class="i4">Or smiles be glad,</p>
+<p class="i8">Or times be bad, at hwome, O</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there the zunny land do lie</p>
+<p>Below the hang&egrave;n, in the lew,</p>
+<p>Wi' vurrows now a-crumbl&egrave;n dry,</p>
+<p>Below the plowman's dousty shoe;</p><a name="page305" id="page305"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;305]</span>
+<p>An' there the bwoy do whissel sh'ill,</p>
+<p>Below the skylark's merry bill,</p>
+<p>Where primrwose beds do deck the zides</p>
+<p>O' banks below the me&auml;ple wrides.</p>
+<p class="i4">As trees be bright</p>
+<p class="i4">Wi' bees in flight,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' weather's bright, abroad, O.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, as sheen&egrave;n wheels do spin</p>
+<p>Vull speed along the dousty rwoad,</p>
+<p>He can but stan', an' wish 'ithin</p>
+<p>His mind to be their happy lwoad,</p>
+<p>That he mid ga&iuml;ly ride, an' goo</p>
+<p>To towns the rwoad mid te&auml;ke en drough,</p>
+<p>An' zee, for woonce, the zights behind</p>
+<p>The bluest hills his eyes can vind,</p>
+<p class="i4">O' towns, an' tow'rs,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' downs, an' flow'rs,</p>
+<p class="i8">In zunny hours, abroad, O.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But still, vor all the weather's fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>Below a cloudless sky o' blue,</p>
+<p>The bwoy at plough do little ce&auml;re</p>
+<p>How vast the brightest day mid goo;</p>
+<p>Vor he'd be glad to zee the zun</p>
+<p>A-zett&egrave;n, wi' his work a-done,</p>
+<p>That he, at hwome, mid still inja&yuml;</p>
+<p>His happy bit ov even&egrave;n pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p class="i4">So light's a lark</p>
+<p class="i4">Till night is dark,</p>
+<p class="i8">While dogs do bark, at hwome, O.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div>
+
+  <br /><br />
+
+<a name="page306" id="page306"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;306]</span>
+
+<h4>THE BWOAT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Where cows did slowly seek the brink</p>
+<p>O' <i>Stour</i>, drough zunburnt grass, to drink;</p>
+<p>Wi' vish&egrave;n float, that there did zink</p>
+<p class="i2">An' rise, I zot as in a dream.</p>
+<p>The dazzl&egrave;n zun did cast his light</p>
+<p>On hedge-row blossom, snowy white,</p>
+<p>Though noth&egrave;n yet did come in zight,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-stirr&egrave;n on the stra&yuml;&egrave;n stream;</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Till, out by she&auml;dy rocks there show'd,</p>
+<p>A bwoat along his foamy road,</p>
+<p>Wi' thik fe&auml;ir ma&iuml;d at mill, a-row'd</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' Je&auml;ne behind her brother's oars.</p>
+<p>An' ste&auml;tely as a queen o' vo'k,</p>
+<p>She zot wi' float&egrave;n scarlet cloak,</p>
+<p>An' com&egrave;n on, at ev'ry stroke,</p>
+<p class="i2">Between my withy-she&auml;ded shores.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The broken stream did idly try</p>
+<p>To show her she&auml;pe a-rid&egrave;n by,</p>
+<p>The rushes brown-bloom'd stems did ply,</p>
+<p class="i2">As if they bow'd to her by will.</p>
+<p>The rings o' water, wi' a sock,</p>
+<p>Did break upon the mossy rock,</p>
+<p>An' gi'e my be&auml;t&egrave;n heart a shock,</p>
+<p class="i2">Above my float's up-leap&egrave;n quill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then, lik' a cloud below the skies,</p>
+<p>A-drifted off, wi' less'n&egrave;n size,</p>
+<p>An' lost, she floated vrom my eyes,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where down below the stream did wind;</p>
+<p>An' left the quiet we&auml;ves woonce mwore</p>
+<p>To zink to rest, a sky-blue'd vloor,</p>
+<p>Wi' all so still's the clote they bore,</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye, all but my own ruffled mind.</p></div>
+</div><br /><br />
+<a name="page307" id="page307"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;307]</span>
+
+<h4>THE PLE&Auml;CE OUR OWN AGE&Auml;N.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well! thanks to you, my fa&iuml;thful Je&auml;ne,</p>
+<p>So worksome wi' your head an' hand,</p>
+<p>We se&auml;ved enough to get age&auml;n</p>
+<p>My poor vorefather's plot o' land.</p>
+<p>'Twer folly lost, an' cunn&egrave;n got,</p>
+<p>What should ha' come to me by lot.</p>
+<p>But let that goo; 'tis well the land</p>
+<p>Is come to hand, by be'th or not.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there the brook, a-wind&egrave;n round</p>
+<p>The parrick zide, do run below</p>
+<p>The grey-stwon'd bridge wi' gurgl&egrave;n sound,</p>
+<p>A-she&auml;ded by the arches' bow;</p>
+<p>Where former days the wold brown me&auml;re,</p>
+<p>Wi' father on her back, did wear</p>
+<p>Wi' heavy shoes the grav'ly le&auml;ne,</p>
+<p>An' she&auml;ke her me&auml;ne o' yollor he&auml;ir.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' many zummers there ha' glow'd,</p>
+<p>To shrink the brook in bubbl&egrave;n shoals,</p>
+<p>An' warm the doust upon the road,</p>
+<p>Below the trav'ller's burn&egrave;n zoles.</p>
+<p>An' zome ha' zent us to our bed</p>
+<p>In grief, an' zome in ja&yuml; ha' vled;</p>
+<p>But vew ha' come wi' happier light</p>
+<p>Than what's now bright, above our head.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The brook did pe&auml;rt, zome years agoo,</p>
+<p>Our Grenley me&auml;ds vrom Knapton's Ridge</p>
+<p>But now you know, between the two,</p>
+<p>A-road's a-me&auml;de by Grenley Bridge.</p>
+<p>Zoo why should we shrink back at zight</p>
+<p>Ov hindrances we ought to slight?</p>
+<p>A hearty will, wi' God our friend,</p>
+<p>Will ga&iuml;n its end, if 'tis but right.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page308" id="page308"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;308]</span>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>John an' Thomas.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How b'ye, then, John, to-night; an' how</p>
+<p>Be times a-wagg&egrave;n on w' ye now?</p>
+<p>I can't help slacken&egrave;n my pe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>When I do come along your ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>To zee what crops your bit o' groun'</p>
+<p>Do bear ye all the zummer roun'.</p>
+<p>'Tis true you don't get fruit nor blooth,</p>
+<p>'Ithin the glass&egrave;n houses' lewth;</p>
+<p>But if a man can rear a crop</p>
+<p>Where win' do blow an' ra&iuml;n can drop,</p>
+<p>Do seem to come, below your hand,</p>
+<p>As fine as any in the land.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, there, the ge&auml;rden stuff an' flow'rs</p>
+<p>Don't le&auml;ve me many idle hours;</p>
+<p>But still, though I mid plant or zow,</p>
+<p>'Tis Woone above do me&auml;ke it grow.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, aye, that's true, but still your strip</p>
+<p>O' groun' do show good workmanship:</p>
+<p>You've onions there nine inches round,</p>
+<p>An' turmits that would wa&iuml;gh a pound;</p>
+<p>An' cabbage wi' its hard white head,</p>
+<p>An' te&auml;ties in their dousty bed,</p>
+<p>An' carrots big an' stra&iuml;ght enough</p>
+<p>Vor any show o' ge&auml;rden stuff;</p>
+<p>An' trees ov apples, red-skinn'd balls</p>
+<p>An' purple plums upon the walls,</p><a name="page309" id="page309"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;309]</span>
+<p>An' peas an' be&auml;ns; bezides a store</p>
+<p>O' he&auml;rbs vor ev'ry pa&iuml;n an' zore.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' over hedge the win's a-he&auml;rd,</p>
+<p>A rusl&egrave;n drough my barley's beard;</p>
+<p>An' swa&yuml;en wheat do overspread</p>
+<p>Zix ridges in a sheet o' red;</p>
+<p>An' then there's woone thing I do call</p>
+<p>The girtest handiness ov all:</p>
+<p>My ground is here at hand, avore</p>
+<p>My eyes, as I do stand at door;</p>
+<p>An' zoo I've never any need</p>
+<p>To goo a mile to pull a weed.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No, sure, a mi&euml;l shoulden stratch</p>
+<p>Between woone's ge&auml;rden an' woone's hatch.</p>
+<p>A man would like his house to stand</p>
+<p>Bezide his little bit o' land.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ees. When woone's groun' vor ge&auml;rden stuff</p>
+<p>Is roun' below the house's ruf,</p>
+<p>Then woone can spend upon woone's land</p>
+<p>Odd minutes that mid lie on hand,</p>
+<p>The while, wi' night a-com&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>The red west sky's a-wear&egrave;n wan;</p>
+<p>Or while woone's wife, wi' busy hands,</p>
+<p>Avore her vier o' burn&egrave;n brands,</p>
+<p>Do put, as best she can avword,</p>
+<p>Her bit o' dinner on the bwoard.</p>
+<p>An' here, when I do te&auml;ke my road,</p>
+<p>At breakfast-time, agwa&iuml;n abrode,</p>
+<p>Why, I can zee if any plot</p>
+<p>O' groun' do want a hand or not;</p>
+<p>An' bid my childern, when there's need,</p>
+<p>To draw a re&auml;ke or pull a weed,</p><a name="page310" id="page310"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;310]</span>
+<p>Or heal young be&auml;ns or peas in line,</p>
+<p>Or tie em up wi' rods an' twine,</p>
+<p>Or peel a kindly withy white</p>
+<p>To hold a droop&egrave;n flow'r upright.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>THOMAS.</h5>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No. Bits o' time can zeldom come</p>
+<p>To much on groun' a mile vrom hwome.</p>
+<p>A man at hwome should have in view</p>
+<p>The jobs his childern's hands can do,</p>
+<p>An' groun' abrode mid te&auml;ke em all</p>
+<p>Beyond their mother's zight an' call,</p>
+<p>To get a zoak&egrave;n in a storm,</p>
+<p>Or vall, i' may be, into harm.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ees. Ge&auml;rden groun', as I've a-zed,</p>
+<p>Is better near woone's bwoard an' bed.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p310" id="p310"></a>
+
+<h4>PENTRIDGE BY THE RIVER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Pentridge!&mdash;oh! my heart's a-zwell&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Vull o' ja&yuml; wi' vo'k a-tell&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Any news o' thik wold ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' the boughy hedges round it,</p>
+<p>An' the river that do bound it</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' his dark but glis'n&egrave;n fe&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>Vor there's noo land, on either hand,</p>
+<p>To me lik' Pentridge by the river.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Be there any leaves to quiver</p>
+<p>On the aspen by the river?</p>
+<p class="i2">Doo he she&auml;de the water still,</p>
+<p>Where the rushes be a-grow&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Where the sullen Stour's a-flow&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Drough the me&auml;ds vrom mill to mill?</p>
+<p>Vor if a tree wer dear to me,</p>
+<p>Oh! 'twer thik aspen by the river.</p></div>
+<a name="page311" id="page311"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;311]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There, in eegrass new a-shoot&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>I did run on even voot&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">Happy, over new-mow'd land;</p>
+<p>Or did zing wi' zing&egrave;n drushes</p>
+<p>While I pla&iuml;ted, out o' rushes,</p>
+<p class="i2">Little baskets vor my hand;</p>
+<p>Bezide the clote that there did float,</p>
+<p>Wi' yollow blossoms, on the river.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When the western zun's a vall&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>What sh'ill va&iuml;ce is now a-call&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Hwome the de&auml;iry to the pa&iuml;ls;</p>
+<p>Who do dreve em on, a-fling&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Wide-bow'd horns, or slowly zwing&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Right an' left their tufty ta&iuml;ls?</p>
+<p>As they do goo a-huddled drough</p>
+<p>The ge&auml;te a-le&auml;d&egrave;n up vrom river.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ble&auml;ded grass is now a-shoot&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Where the vloor wer woonce our voot&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">While the hall wer still in ple&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>Stwones be looser in the wall&egrave;n;</p>
+<p>Hollow trees be nearer vall&egrave;n;</p>
+<p class="i2">Ev'ry thing ha' chang'd its fe&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>But still the ne&auml;me do bide the se&auml;me&mdash;</p>
+<p>'Tis Pentridge&mdash;Pentridge by the river.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p311" id="p311"></a>
+
+<h4>WHEAT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In brown-leav'd Fall the wheat a-left</p>
+<p class="i2">'Ithin its darksome bed,</p>
+<p>Where all the creak&egrave;n roller's heft</p>
+<p class="i2">Seal'd down its lowly head,</p>
+<p>Sprung she&auml;k&egrave;n drough the crumbl&egrave;n mwold,</p>
+<p class="i2">Green-yollow, vrom below,</p>
+<p>An' bent its ble&auml;des, a-glitt'r&egrave;n cwold,</p>
+<p class="i2">At last in winter snow.</p><a name="page312" id="page312"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;312]</span>
+<p class="i6">Zoo luck betide</p>
+<p class="i6">The upland zide,</p>
+<p class="i6">Where wheat do wride,</p>
+<p class="i6">In corn-vields wide,</p>
+<p class="i2">By crowns o' Do'set Downs, O.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' while the scream&egrave;n bird-bwoy shook</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' little zun-burnt hand,</p>
+<p>His clacker at the bright-wing'd rook,</p>
+<p class="i2">About the zeeded land;</p>
+<p>His me&auml;ster there did come an' stop</p>
+<p class="i2">His bridle-champ&egrave;n me&auml;re,</p>
+<p>Wi' thankvul heart, to zee his crop</p>
+<p class="i2">A-com&egrave;n up so fe&auml;ir.</p>
+<p class="i6">As there awhile</p>
+<p class="i6">By ge&auml;te or stile,</p>
+<p class="i6">He gi'ed the chile</p>
+<p class="i6">A cheer&egrave;n smile,</p>
+<p>By crowns o' Do'set Downs, O.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>At last, wi' e&auml;rs o' darksome red,</p>
+<p class="i2">The yollow stalks did ply,</p>
+<p>A-swa&yuml;&egrave;n slow, so heavy 's lead,</p>
+<p class="i2">In a&iuml;r a-blow&egrave;n by;</p>
+<p>An' then the busy reapers laid</p>
+<p class="i2">In row their russl&egrave;n grips,</p>
+<p>An' she&auml;ves, a-le&auml;n&egrave;n head by head,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did me&auml;ke the stitches tips.</p>
+<p class="i6">Zoo food's a-vound,</p>
+<p class="i6">A-com&egrave;n round,</p>
+<p class="i6">Vrom zeed in ground,</p>
+<p class="i6">To sheaves a-bound,</p>
+<p class="i2">By crowns o' Do'set Downs, O.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' now the wheat, in lofty lwoads,</p>
+<p class="i2">Above the me&auml;res' broad backs,</p>
+<p>Do ride along the crackl&egrave;n rwoads,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or dousty waggon-tracks.</p><a name="page313" id="page313"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;313]</span>
+<p>An' there, mid every busy pick,</p>
+<p class="i2">Ha' work enough to do;</p>
+<p>An' where, avore, we built woone rick,</p>
+<p class="i2">Mid the&auml;se year gi'e us two;</p>
+<p class="i6">Wi' God our friend,</p>
+<p class="i6">An' wealth to spend,</p>
+<p class="i6">Vor zome good end,</p>
+<p class="i6">That times mid mend,</p>
+<p class="i2">In towns, an' Do'set Downs, O.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo let the merry thatcher veel</p>
+<p class="i2">Fine weather on his brow,</p>
+<p>As he, in happy work, do kneel</p>
+<p class="i2">Up roun' the new-built mow,</p>
+<p>That now do zwell in sich a size,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' rise to sich a height,</p>
+<p>That, oh! the miller's wistful eyes</p>
+<p class="i2">Do sparkle at the zight</p>
+<p class="i6">An' long mid stand,</p>
+<p class="i6">A happy band,</p>
+<p class="i6">To till the land,</p>
+<p class="i6">Wi' head an' hand,</p>
+<p class="i2">By crowns o' Do'set Downs, O.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p313" id="p313"></a>
+
+<h4>THE ME&Auml;D IN JUNE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! how the looks o' sky an' ground</p>
+<p>Do change wi' months a-steal&egrave;n round,</p>
+<p>When northern winds, by starry night,</p>
+<p>Do stop in ice the river's flight;</p>
+<p>Or brooks in winter ra&iuml;ns do zwell,</p>
+<p>Lik' roll&egrave;n seas athirt the dell;</p>
+<p>Or trickle thin in zummer-tide;</p>
+<p>Among the mossy stwones half dried;</p>
+<p>But still, below the zun or moon,</p>
+<p>The fe&agrave;rest vield's the me&auml;d in June.</p></div>
+<a name="page314" id="page314"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;314]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' I must own, my heart do be&auml;t</p>
+<p>Wi' pride avore my own blue ge&auml;te,</p>
+<p>Where I can bid the ste&auml;tely tree</p>
+<p>Be cast, at langth, avore my knee;</p>
+<p>An' clover red, an' de&auml;zies fea&iuml;r,</p>
+<p>An' gil'cups wi' their yollow gle&auml;re,</p>
+<p>Be all a-match'd avore my zight</p>
+<p>By wheel&egrave;n buttervlees in flight,</p>
+<p>The while the burn&egrave;n zun at noon</p>
+<p>Do sheen upon my me&auml;d in June.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there do zing the swing&egrave;n lark</p>
+<p>So ga&yuml;'s above the finest park,</p>
+<p>An' day do she&auml;de my trees as true</p>
+<p>As any ste&auml;tely avenue;</p>
+<p>An' show'ry clouds o' Spring do pass</p>
+<p>To shed their ra&iuml;n on my young grass,</p>
+<p>An' a&iuml;r do blow the whole day long,</p>
+<p>To bring me breath, an' te&auml;ke my zong,</p>
+<p>An' I do miss noo needvul boon</p>
+<p>A-gi'ed to other me&auml;ds in June.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the bloom&egrave;n rwose do ride</p>
+<p>Upon the boughy hedge's zide,</p>
+<p>We hayme&auml;kers, in snow-white sleeves,</p>
+<p>Do work in she&auml;des o' quiv'r&egrave;n leaves,</p>
+<p>In afternoon, a-lift&egrave;n high</p>
+<p>Our re&auml;kes avore the viery sky,</p>
+<p>A-re&auml;ken up the hay a-dried</p>
+<p>By day, in lwongsome we&auml;les, to bide</p>
+<p>In chilly dew below the moon,</p>
+<p>O' shorten'd nights in zultry June.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there the brook do softly flow</p>
+<p>Along, a-bend&egrave;n in a bow,</p><a name="page315" id="page315"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;315]</span>
+<p>An' vish, wi' zides o' zilver-white,</p>
+<p>Do flash vrom shoals a dazzl&egrave;n light;</p>
+<p>An' alders by the water's edge,</p>
+<p>Do she&auml;de the ribbon-ble&auml;ded zedge,</p>
+<p>An' where, below the withy's head,</p>
+<p>The zwimm&egrave;n clote-leaves be a-spread,</p>
+<p>The angler is a-zot at noon</p>
+<p>Upon the flow'ry bank in June.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor all the ai&euml;r that do bring</p>
+<p>My little me&auml;d the breath o' Spring,</p>
+<p>By day an' night's a-flow&egrave;n wide</p>
+<p>Above all other vields bezide;</p>
+<p>Vor all the zun above my ground</p>
+<p>'S a-zent vor all the na&iuml;ghbours round,</p>
+<p>An' ra&iuml;n do vall, an' streams do flow,</p>
+<p>Vor lands above, an' lands below,</p>
+<p>My bit o' me&auml;d is God's own boon,</p>
+<p>To me alwone, vrom June to June.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p315" id="p315"></a>
+
+<h4>EARLY RIS&Egrave;N.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The a&iuml;r to gi'e your che&auml;ks a hue</p>
+<p>O' rwosy red, so fea&iuml;r to view,</p>
+<p>Is what do she&auml;ke the grass-ble&auml;des gray</p>
+<p>At bre&auml;k o' day, in morn&egrave;n dew;</p>
+<p>Vor vo'k that will be rathe abrode,</p>
+<p>Will meet wi' health upon their road.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But bid&egrave;n up till dead o' night,</p>
+<p>When han's o' clocks do stan' upright,</p>
+<p>By candle-light, do soon consume</p>
+<p>The fe&auml;ce's bloom, an' turn it white.</p>
+<p>An' light a-cast vrom midnight skies</p>
+<p>Do blunt the sparkl&egrave;n ov the eyes.</p></div>
+<a name="page316" id="page316"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;316]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor health do we&auml;ke vrom nightly dreams</p>
+<p>Below the morn&egrave;n's e&auml;rly beams,</p>
+<p>An' le&auml;ve the dead-a&iuml;r'd houses' eaves,</p>
+<p>Vor quiv'r&egrave;n leaves, an' bubbl&egrave;n streams,</p>
+<p>A-glitt'r&egrave;n brightly to the view,</p>
+<p>Below a sky o' cloudless blue.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p316" id="p316"></a>
+
+<h4>ZELLEN WOONE'S HONEY TO BUY ZOME'HAT SWEET.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why, his heart's lik' a popple, so hard as a stwone,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor 'tis money, an' money's his ho,</p>
+<p>An' to handle an' reckon it up vor his own,</p>
+<p class="i2">Is the best o' the ja&yuml;s he do know.</p>
+<p>Why, vor money he'd gi'e up his lags an' be le&auml;me,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or would pe&auml;rt wi' his zight an' be blind,</p>
+<p>Or would lose vo'k's good will, vor to have a bad ne&auml;me,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or his peace, an' have trouble o' mind.</p>
+<p>But wi' ev'ry good thing that his me&auml;nness mid bring,</p>
+<p class="i4">He'd pa&yuml; vor his money,</p>
+<p>An' only zell honey to buy zome'hat sweet.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He did whisper to me, "You do know that you stood</p>
+<p class="i2">By the Squier, wi' the vote that you had,</p>
+<p>You could ax en to help ye to zome'hat as good,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or to vind a good ple&auml;ce vor your lad."</p>
+<p>"Aye, aye, but if I wer behold&egrave;n vor bread</p>
+<p class="i2">To another," I zaid, "I should bind</p>
+<p>All my body an' soul to the nod of his head,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' gi'e up all my freedom o' mind."</p>
+<p>An' then, if my pa&iuml;n wer a-zet wi' my ga&iuml;n,</p>
+<p class="i4">I should pa&yuml; vor my money,</p>
+<p>An' only zell honey to buy zome'hat sweet.</p></div>
+<a name="page317" id="page317"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;317]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then, if my bit o' brook that do wind so vur round,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer but his, why, he'd stra&iuml;ghten his bed,</p>
+<p>An' the wold stunpole woak that do stan' in my ground,</p>
+<p class="i2">Shoudden long she&auml;de the grass wi' his head.</p>
+<p>But if I do vind ja&yuml; where the leaves be a-shook</p>
+<p class="i2">On the limbs, wi' their she&auml;des on the grass,</p>
+<p>Or below, in the bow o' the withy-bound nook,</p>
+<p class="i2">That the rock-wash&egrave;n water do pass,</p>
+<p>Then wi' they ja&yuml;s a-vled an' zome goold in their stead,</p>
+<p class="i4">I should pay vor my money,</p>
+<p>An' only zell honey to buy zome'hat sweet.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No, be my lot good work, wi' the lungs well in pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' good rest when the body do tire,</p>
+<p>Vor the mind a good conscience, wi' hope or wi' ja&yuml;,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor the body, good lewth, an' good vire,</p>
+<p>There's noo good o' goold, but to buy what 'ull me&auml;ke</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor our happiness here among men;</p>
+<p>An' who would gi'e happiness up vor the se&auml;ke</p>
+<p class="i2">O' zome money to buy it age&auml;n?</p>
+<p>Vor 'twould seem to the eyes ov a man that is wise,</p>
+<p class="i4">Lik' money vor money,</p>
+<p>Or zell&egrave;n woone's honey to buy zome'hat sweet.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p317" id="p317"></a>
+
+<h4>DOBBIN DEAD.</h4>
+
+<h4><i>Thomas</i> (1) <i>an' John</i> (2) <i>a-ta'&egrave;n o't.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>2. I do veel vor ye, Thomas, vor I be a-fe&auml;r'd</p>
+<p class="i2"> You've a-lost your wold me&auml;re then, by what I've a-he&auml;rd.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>1. Ees, my me&auml;re is a-gone, an' the cart's in the shed</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wi' his wheelbonds a-rust&egrave;n, an' I'm out o' bread;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Vor what be my han's vor to e&auml;rn me a croust,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wi' noo me&auml;re's vower legs vor to trample the doust.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>2. Well, how did it happen? He vell vrom the brim</p>
+<p class="i2"> Ov a cliff, as the te&auml;le is, an' broke ev'ry lim'.</p></div>
+<a name="page318" id="page318"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;318]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>1. Why, I gi'ed en his run, an' he shook his wold me&auml;ne,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' he rambled a-veed&egrave;n in Westergap Le&auml;ne;</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' there he must needs goo a-rigg&egrave;n, an' crope</p>
+<p class="i2"> Vor a vew ble&auml;des o' grass up the wo'st o' the slope;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Though I should ha' thought his wold head would ha' know'd</p>
+<p class="i2"> That vor stiff lags, lik' his, the best ple&auml;ce wer the road.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>2. An' you hadden a-kept en so short, he must clim',</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lik' a gwoat, vor a ble&auml;de, at the risk ov a lim'.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>1. Noo, but there, I'm a-twold, he did clim' an' did slide,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' did scre&auml;pe, an' did slip, on the shelv&egrave;n bank-zide,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' at langth lost his voot&egrave;n, an' roll'd vrom the top,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Down, thump, kick, an' higgledly, piggledly, flop.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>2. Dear me, that is bad! I do veel vor your loss,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Vor a vew years agoo, Thomas, I lost my ho'se.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>1. How wer't? If I he&auml;rd it, I now ha' vorgot;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wer the poor thing bewitch'd or a-pweison'd, or what?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>2. He wer out, an' a-me&auml;k&egrave;n his way to the brink</p>
+<p class="i2"> O' the stream at the end o' Church Le&auml;ne, vor to drink;</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' he met wi' zome yew-twigs the men had a-cast</p>
+<p class="i2"> Vrom the yew-tree, in churchyard, the road that he past.</p>
+<p class="i2"> He wer pweison'd. (1.) O dear, 'tis a hard loss to bear,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Vor a tranter's whole bread is a-lost wi' his me&auml;re;</p>
+<p class="i2"> But ov all churches' yew-trees, I never zet eyes</p>
+<p class="i2"> On a tree that would come up to thik woone vor size.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>2. Noo, 'tis long years agone, but do linger as clear</p>
+<p class="i2"> In my mind though as if I'd a-he&auml;rd it to year.</p>
+<p class="i2"> When King George wer in Do'set, an' show'd us his fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2"> By our very own doors, at our very own ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2"> That he look'd at thik yew-tree, an' nodded his head,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An' he zaid,&mdash;an' I'll tell ye the words that he zaid:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> "I'll be bound, if you'll sarch my dominions all drough.</p>
+<p class="i2"> That you woon't vind the fellow to thik there wold yew."</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page319" id="page319"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;319]</span>
+
+<h4>HAPPINESS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! you do seem to think the ground,</p>
+<p>Where happiness is best a-vound,</p>
+<p>Is where the high-pe&auml;l'd park do reach</p>
+<p>Wi' elem-rows, or clumps o' beech;</p>
+<p>Or where the coach do stand avore</p>
+<p>The twelve-tunn'd house's lofty door,</p>
+<p>Or men can ride behin' their hounds</p>
+<p>Vor miles athirt their own wide grounds,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' seldom wi' the lowly;</p>
+<p>Upon the green that we do tread,</p>
+<p>Below the welsh-nut's wide-limb'd head,</p>
+<p>Or grass where apple trees do spread?</p>
+<p>No, so's; no, no: not high nor low:</p>
+<p>'Tis where the heart is holy.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis true its veet mid tread the vloor,</p>
+<p>'Ithin the marble-pillar'd door,</p>
+<p>Where day do cast, in high-ruf'd halls.</p>
+<p>His light drough lofty window'd walls;</p>
+<p>An' wax-white han's do never tire</p>
+<p>Wi' strokes ov heavy work vor hire,</p>
+<p>An' all that money can avword</p>
+<p>Do lwoad the zilver-brighten'd bwoard:</p>
+<p class="i2">Or mid be wi' the lowly,</p>
+<p>Where turf's a-smwolder&egrave;n avore</p>
+<p>The back, to warm the stwon&egrave;n vloor</p>
+<p>An' love's at hwome 'ithin the door?</p>
+<p>No, so's; no, no; not high nor low:</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis where the heart is holy.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' ce&auml;re can come 'ithin a ring</p>
+<p>O' sworded guards, to smite a king,</p><a name="page320" id="page320"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;320]</span>
+<p>Though he mid hold 'ithin his hands</p>
+<p>The zwarm&egrave;n vo'k o' many lands;</p>
+<p>Or goo in drough the iron-ge&auml;te</p>
+<p>Avore the house o' lofty ste&auml;te;</p>
+<p>Or reach the miser that do smile</p>
+<p>A-build&egrave;n up his goolden pile;</p>
+<p class="i2">Or else mid smite the lowly,</p>
+<p>That have noo pow'r to loose or bind</p>
+<p>Another's body, or his mind,</p>
+<p>But only hands to help mankind.</p>
+<p>If there is rest 'ithin the breast,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis where the heart is holy.</p>
+</div>  </div><br /><br /><br />
+
+  <a name="p320" id="p320"></a>
+
+<h4>GRUFFMOODY GRIM.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, a sad life his wife must ha' led,</p>
+<p>Vor so snappish he's le&auml;tely a-come,</p>
+<p>That there's noth&egrave;n but anger or dread</p>
+<p>Where he is, abroad or at hwome;</p>
+<p>He do wreak all his spite on the bwones</p>
+<p>O' whatever do vlee, or do crawl;</p>
+<p>He do quarrel wi' stocks, an' wi' stwones,</p>
+<p>An' the ra&iuml;n, if do hold up or vall;</p>
+<p>There is noth&egrave;n vrom morn&egrave;n till night</p>
+<p>Do come right to Gruffmoody Grim.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Woone night, in his anger, he zwore</p>
+<p>At the vier, that didden burn free:</p>
+<p>An' he het zome o't out on the vloor,</p>
+<p>Vor a vlanker it cast on his knee.</p>
+<p>Then he kicked it vor burn&egrave;n the child,</p>
+<p>An' het it among the cat's hea&iuml;rs;</p>
+<p>An' then be&auml;t the cat, a-run wild,</p>
+<p>Wi' a spark on her back up the stea&iuml;rs:</p>
+<p>Vor even the vier an' fle&auml;me</p>
+<p>Be to ble&auml;me wi' Gruffmoody Grim.</p></div>
+<a name="page321" id="page321"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;321]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then he snarl'd at the tea in his cup,</p>
+<p>Vor 'twer all a-got cwold in the pot,</p>
+<p>But 'twer woo'se when his wife vill'd it up</p>
+<p>Vrom the vier, vor 'twer then scald&egrave;n hot;</p>
+<p>Then he growl'd that the bread wer sich stuff</p>
+<p>As noo hammer in parish could crack,</p>
+<p>An' flung down the knife in a huff;</p>
+<p>Vor the edge o'n wer thicker'n the back.</p>
+<p>Vor be&auml;kers an' me&auml;kers o' tools</p>
+<p>Be all fools wi' Gruffmoody Grim.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oone day as he vish'd at the brook,</p>
+<p>He flung up, wi' a quick-handed knack,</p>
+<p>His long line, an' his high-vle&egrave;n hook</p>
+<p>Wer a-hitch'd in zome briars at his back.</p>
+<p>Then he zwore at the brembles, an' prick'd</p>
+<p>His be&auml;re hand, as he pull'd the hook free;</p>
+<p>An' age&auml;n, in a rage, as he kick'd</p>
+<p>At the briars, wer a-scratch'd on the knee.</p>
+<p>An' he wish'd ev'ry bremble an' briar</p>
+<p>Wer o' vier, did Gruffmoody Grim.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! he's welcome, vor me, to breed dread</p>
+<p>Wherever his she&auml;de mid alight,</p>
+<p>An' to live wi' noo me'th round his head,</p>
+<p>An' noo fe&auml;ce wi' a smile in his zight;</p>
+<p>But let vo'k be all merry an' zing</p>
+<p>At the he'th where my own logs do burn,</p>
+<p>An' let anger's wild vist never swing</p>
+<p>In where I have a door on his durn;</p>
+<p>Vor I'll be a happier man,</p>
+<p>While I can, than Gruffmoody Grim.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>To zit down by the vier at night,</p>
+<p>Is my ja&yuml;&mdash;vor I woon't call it pride,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Wi' a brand on the bricks, all alight,</p>
+<p>An' a pile o' zome mwore at the zide.</p>
+<p>Then tell me o' zome'hat that's droll,</p><a name="page322" id="page322"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;322]</span>
+<p>An' I'll laugh till my two zides do e&auml;che</p>
+<p>Or o' na&iuml;ghbours in sorrow o' soul,</p>
+<p>An' I'll tweil all the night vor their se&auml;ke;</p>
+<p>An' show that to te&auml;ke things amiss</p>
+<p>Idden bliss, to Gruffmoody Grim.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then let my child clim' my lag,</p>
+<p>An' I'll lift en, wi' love, to my chin;</p>
+<p>Or my ma&iuml;d come an' coax me to bag</p>
+<p>Vor a frock, an' a frock she shall win;</p>
+<p>Or, then if my wife do me&auml;ke light</p>
+<p>O' whatever the bwoys mid ha' broke,</p>
+<p>It wull seem but so small in my zight,</p>
+<p>As a leaf a-het down vrom a woak</p>
+<p>An' not me&auml;ke me ce&auml;per an' froth</p>
+<p>Vull o' wrath, lik' Gruffmoody Grim.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p322" id="p322"></a>
+
+<h4>THE TURN O' THE DAYS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O the wings o' the rook wer a-glitter&egrave;n bright,</p>
+<p>As he wheel'd on above, in the zun's even&egrave;n light,</p>
+<p>An' noo snow wer a-left, but in patches o' white,</p>
+<p class="i2">On the hill at the turn o' the days.</p>
+<p>An' along on the slope wer the be&auml;re-timber'd copse,</p>
+<p>Wi' the dry wood a-she&auml;k&egrave;n, wi' red-twigg&egrave;d tops.</p>
+<p>Vor the dry-flow&egrave;n wind, had a-blow'd off the drops</p>
+<p class="i2">O' the ra&iuml;n, at the turn o' the days.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There the stream did run on, in the she&auml;de o' the hill,</p>
+<p>So smooth in his flow&egrave;n, as if he stood still,</p>
+<p>An' bright wi' the skylight, did slide to the mill,</p>
+<p class="i2">By the me&auml;ds, at the turn o' the days.</p>
+<p>An' up by the copse, down along the hill brow,</p>
+<p>Wer vurrows a-cut down, by men out at plough,</p>
+<p>So stra&iuml;ght as the zunbeams, a-shot drough the bough</p>
+<p class="i2">O' the tree at the turn o' the days.</p></div>
+<a name="page323" id="page323"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;323]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then the boom&egrave;n wold clock in the tower did mark</p>
+<p>His vive hours, avore the cool even&egrave;n wer dark,</p>
+<p>An' ivy did glitter a-clung round the bark</p>
+<p class="i2">O' the tree, at the turn o' the days.</p>
+<p>An' wom&egrave;n a-fra&iuml;d o' the road in the night,</p>
+<p>Wer a-he&auml;sten&egrave;n on to reach hwome by the light,</p>
+<p>A-cast&egrave;n long she&auml;des on the road, a-dried white,</p>
+<p class="i2">Down the hill, at the turn o' the days.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The father an' mother did walk out to view</p>
+<p>The moss-bedded snow-drop, a-sprung in the lew,</p>
+<p>An' hear if the birds wer a-zing&egrave;n anew,</p>
+<p class="i2">In the boughs, at the turn o' the days.</p>
+<p>An' young vo'k a-laugh&egrave;n wi' smooth glossy fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Did hie over vields, wi' a light-vooted pe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>To friends where the tow'r did betoken a ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2">Among trees, at the turn o' the days.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p323" id="p323"></a>
+
+<h4>THE SPARROW CLUB.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Last night the merry farmers' sons,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom biggest down to le&auml;st, min,</p>
+<p>Gi'ed in the work of all their guns,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' had their sparrow fe&auml;st, min.</p>
+<p>An' who vor woone good merry soul</p>
+<p class="i2">Should goo to she&auml;re their me'th, min,</p>
+<p>But Gammon Ga&yuml;, a chap so droll,</p>
+<p class="i2">He'd me&auml;ke ye laugh to death, min.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor heads o' sparrows they've a-shot</p>
+<p class="i2">They'll have a prize in cwein, min,</p>
+<p>That is, if they can me&auml;ke their scot,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or else they'll pa&yuml; a fine, min.</p>
+<p>An' all the money they can te&auml;ke</p>
+<p class="i2">'S a-gather'd up there-right, min,</p></div><a name="page324" id="page324"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;324]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' spent in meat an' drink, to me&auml;ke</p>
+<p class="i2">A supper vor the night, min.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo when they took away the cloth,</p>
+<p class="i2">In middle of their din, min,</p>
+<p>An' cups o' e&auml;le begun to froth,</p>
+<p class="i2">Below their merry chin, min.</p>
+<p>An' when the zong, by turn or cha&iuml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">Went roun' vrom tongue to tongue, min,</p>
+<p>Then Gammon pitch'd his merry va&iuml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' here's the zong he zung, min.</p>
+  </div>
+</div><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12"><b><i>Zong.</i></b></p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If you'll but let your clackers rest</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom jabber&egrave;n an' hoot&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>I'll te&auml;ke my turn, an' do my best,</p>
+<p class="i2">To zing o' sparrow shoot&egrave;n.</p>
+<p>Since every woone mus' pitch his key,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' zing a zong, in coo'se, lads,</p>
+<p>Why sparrow heads shall be to-day</p>
+<p class="i2">The heads o' my discoo'se, lads.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>We'll zend abroad our viery ha&iuml;l</p>
+<p class="i2">Till ev'ry foe's a-vled, lads,</p>
+<p>An' though the rogues mid all turn ta&iuml;l,</p>
+<p class="i2">We'll quickly show their head, lads.</p>
+<p>In corn, or out on oben ground,</p>
+<p class="i2">In bush, or up in tree, lads,</p>
+<p>If we don't kill em, I'll be bound,</p>
+<p class="i2">We'll me&auml;ke their veathers vlee, lads.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo let the belted spwortsmen brag</p>
+<p class="i2">When they've a-won a ne&auml;me, so's,</p>
+<p>That they do vind, or they do bag,</p>
+<p class="i2">Zoo many head o' ge&auml;me, so's;</p><a name="page325" id="page325"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;325]</span>
+<p>Vor when our cwein is woonce a-won,</p>
+<p class="i2">By heads o' sundry sizes,</p>
+<p>Why, who can slight what we've a-done?</p>
+<p class="i2">We've all a-won <i>head</i> prizes.</p></div>
+ <div class="stanza">
+<p>Then te&auml;ke a drap vor harmless fun,</p>
+<p class="i2">But not enough to quarrel;</p>
+<p>Though where a man do like the gun,</p>
+<p class="i2">He can't but need the barrel.</p>
+<p>O' goodly fe&auml;re, avore we'll start,</p>
+<p class="i2">We'll zit an' te&auml;ke our vill, min;</p>
+<p>Our supper-bill can be but short,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis but a sparrow-bill, min.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p325" id="p325"></a>
+
+<h4>GAMMONY GA&Yuml;.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! thik Gammony Ga&yuml; is so droll,</p>
+<p>That if he's at hwome by the he'th,</p>
+<p>Or wi' vo'k out o' door, he's the soul</p>
+<p>O' the meet&egrave;n vor antics an' me'th;</p>
+<p>He do cast off the thoughts ov ill luck</p>
+<p>As the water's a-shot vrom a duck;</p>
+<p>He do zing where his na&iuml;ghbours would cry</p>
+<p>He do laugh where the rest o's would sigh:</p>
+<p>Noo other's so merry o' fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>In the ple&auml;ce, as Gammony Ga&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' o' work&egrave;n days, Oh! he do wear</p>
+<p>Such a funny roun' hat,&mdash;you mid know't&mdash;</p>
+<p>Wi' a brim all a-strout roun' his he&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>An' his glissen&egrave;n eyes down below't;</p>
+<p>An' a cwoat wi' broad skirts that do vlee</p>
+<p>In the wind ov his walk, round his knee;</p>
+<p>An' a pe&auml;ir o' girt pockets lik' bags,</p>
+<p>That do swing an' do bob at his lags:</p>
+<p>While me'th do walk out drough the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>In the fe&auml;ce o' Gammony Ga&yuml;.</p></div>
+<a name="page326" id="page326"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;326]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' if he do goo over groun'</p>
+<p>Wi' noo soul vor to greet wi' his words,</p>
+<p>The fe&auml;ce o'n do look up an' down,</p>
+<p>An' round en so quick as a bird's;</p>
+<p>An' if he do vall in wi' vo'k,</p>
+<p>Why, tidden vor want ov a joke,</p>
+<p>If he don't zend em on vrom the ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Wi' a smile or a grin on their fe&auml;ce:</p>
+<p>An' the young wi' the wold have a-he&auml;rd</p>
+<p>A kind word vrom Gammony Ga&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when he do whissel or hum,</p>
+<p>'Ithout think&egrave;n o' what he's a-do&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>He'll be&auml;t his own lags vor a drum,</p>
+<p>An' bob his ga&yuml; head to the tu&egrave;n;</p>
+<p>An' then you mid zee, 'etween whiles,</p>
+<p>His fe&auml;ce all alive wi' his smiles,</p>
+<p>An' his ga&yuml;-breath&egrave;n bozom do rise,</p>
+<p>An' his me'th do sheen out ov his eyes:</p>
+<p>An' at last to have pra&iuml;se or have ble&auml;me,</p>
+<p>Is the se&auml;me to Gammony Ga&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When he drove his wold cart out, an' broke</p>
+<p>The nut o' the wheel at a butt.</p>
+<p>There wer "woo'se things," he cried, wi' a joke.</p>
+<p>"To grieve at than crack&egrave;n a nut."</p>
+<p>An' when he tipp'd over a lwoad</p>
+<p>Ov his reed-sheaves woone day on the rwoad,</p>
+<p>Then he spet in his han's, out o' sleeves,</p>
+<p>An' whissel'd, an' flung up his sheaves,</p>
+<p>As very vew others can wag,</p>
+<p>E&auml;rm or lag, but Gammony Ga&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He wer wi' us woone night when the band</p>
+<p>Wer a-come vor to gi'e us a hop,</p>
+<p>An' he pull'd Grammer out by the hand</p>
+<p>All down drough the dance vrom the top;</p><a name="page327" id="page327"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;327]</span>
+<p>An' Grammer did hobble an' squall,</p>
+<p>Wi' Gammon a-le&auml;d&egrave;n the ball;</p>
+<p>While Gammon did she&auml;ke up his knee</p>
+<p>An' his voot, an' zing "Diddle-ee-dee!"</p>
+<p>An' we laugh'd ourzelves all out o' breath</p>
+<p>At the me'th o' Gammony Ga&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When our tun wer' o' vier he rod</p>
+<p>Out to help us, an' me&auml;de us sich fun,</p>
+<p>Vor he clomb up to dreve in a wad</p>
+<p>O' wet thorns, to the he'th, vrom the tun;</p>
+<p>An' there he did stamp wi' his voot,</p>
+<p>To push down the thorns an' the zoot,</p>
+<p>Till at last down the chimney's black wall</p>
+<p>Went the wad, an' poor Gammon an' all:</p>
+<p>An' se&auml;fe on the he'th, wi' a grin</p>
+<p>On his chin pitch'd Gammony Ga&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>All the house-dogs do waggle their ta&iuml;ls,</p>
+<p>If they do but catch zight ov his fe&auml;ce;</p>
+<p>An' the ho'ses do look over ra&iuml;ls,</p>
+<p>An' do whicker to zee'n at the ple&auml;ce;</p>
+<p>An' he'll always bestow a good word</p>
+<p>On a cat or a whissel&egrave;n bird;</p>
+<p>An' even if culvers do coo,</p>
+<p>Or an owl is a-cry&egrave;n "Hoo, hoo,"</p>
+<p>Where he is, there's always a joke</p>
+<p>To be spoke, by Gammony Ga&yuml;.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p327" id="p327"></a>
+
+<h4>THE HEARE.</h4>
+
+<h4>(<i>Dree o'm a-ta'k&egrave;n o't</i>.)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>(1) There be the greyhounds! lo'k! an' there's the he&auml;re!</p>
+<p>(2) What houn's, the squier's, Thomas? where, then, where?</p><a name="page328" id="page328"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;328]</span>
+<p>(1) Why, out in Ash Hill, near the barn, behind</p>
+<p class="i4">Thik tree. (3) The pollard? (1) Pollard! no, b'ye blind?</p>
+<p>(2) There, I do zee em over-right thik cow.</p>
+<p>(3) The red woone? (1) No, a mile beyand her now.</p>
+<p>(3) Oh! there's the he&auml;re, a-me&auml;k&egrave;n for the drong.</p>
+<p>(2) My goodness! How the dogs do zweep along,</p>
+<p class="i4">A-pok&egrave;n out their pweinted noses' tips.</p>
+<p>(3) He can't allow hizzelf much time vor slips!</p>
+<p>(1) They'll hab'en, after all, I'll bet a crown.</p>
+<p>(2) Done vor a crown. They woon't! He's gw&auml;in to groun'.</p>
+<p>(3) He is! (1) He idden! (3) Ah! 'tis well his tooes</p>
+<p class="i4">Ha' got noo corns, inside o' hobna&iuml;l shoes.</p>
+<p>(1) He's ge&auml;me a runn&egrave;n too. Why, he do mwore</p>
+<p class="i4">Than e&auml;rn his life. (3) His life wer his avore.</p>
+<p>(1) There, now the dogs wull turn en. (2) No! He's right.</p>
+<p>(1) He idden! (2) Ees he is! (3) He's out o' zight.</p>
+<p>(1) Aye, aye. His mettle wull be well a-tried</p>
+<p class="i4">Agwa&iuml;n down Verny Hill, o' tother zide.</p>
+<p class="i4">They'll have en there. (3) O no! a vew good hops</p>
+<p class="i4">Wull te&auml;ke en on to Knapton Lower Copse.</p>
+<p>(2) An' that's a meesh that he've a-took avore.</p>
+<p>(3) Ees, that's his hwome. (1) He'll never reach his door.</p>
+<p>(2) He wull. (1) He woon't. (3) Now, hark, d'ye he&auml;r em now?</p>
+<p>(2) O! here's a bwoy a-come athirt the brow</p>
+<p class="i4">O' Knapton Hill. We'll ax en. (1) Here, my bwoy!</p>
+<p class="i4">Can'st tell us where's the he&auml;re? (4) He's got awoy.</p>
+<p>(2) Ees, got awoy, in coo'se, I never zeed</p>
+<p class="i4">A he&auml;re a-scot&egrave;n on wi' half his speed.</p>
+<p>(1) Why, there, the dogs be wold, an' half a-done.</p>
+<p class="i4">They can't catch anything wi' lags to run.</p>
+<p>(2) Vrom vu'st to last they had but little chance</p>
+<p class="i4">O' catch&egrave;n o'n. (3) They had a perty dance.</p>
+<p>(1) No, catch en, no! I little thought they would;</p>
+<p class="i4">He know'd his road too well to Knapton Wood.</p>
+<p>(3) No! no! I wish the squier would let me fe&auml;re</p>
+<p class="i4">On rabbits till his hounds do catch thik he&auml;re.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page329" id="page329"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;329]</span>
+
+<h4>NANNY GILL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! they wer times, when Nanny Gill</p>
+<p>Went so'jer&egrave;n age&auml;nst her will,</p>
+<p>Back when the King come down to view</p>
+<p>His ho'se an' voot, in red an' blue,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' they did march in rows,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' wheel in lines an' bows,</p>
+<p class="i2">Below the King's own nose;</p>
+<p>An' guns did pwoint, an' swords did gle&auml;re,</p>
+<p>A-fight&egrave;n foes that werden there.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Poor Nanny Gill did goo to zell</p>
+<p>In town her glitt'r&egrave;n macarel,</p>
+<p>A-pack'd wi' ce&auml;re, in even lots,</p>
+<p>A-ho'seback in a pe&auml;ir o' pots.</p>
+<p class="i2">An' zoo when she did ride</p>
+<p class="i2">Between her panniers wide,</p>
+<p class="i2">Red-cloked in all her pride,</p>
+<p>Why, who but she, an' who but broke</p>
+<p>The road avore her scarlet cloke!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But Nanny's ho'se that she did ride,</p>
+<p>Woonce carr'd a sword age&auml;n his zide,</p>
+<p>An' had, to prick en into rank,</p>
+<p>A so'jer's spurs age&auml;n his flank;</p>
+<p class="i2">An' zoo, when he got zight</p>
+<p class="i2">O' swords a-gleam&egrave;n bright,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' men agwa&iuml;n to fight,</p>
+<p>He set his eyes athirt the ground,</p>
+<p>An' prick'd his ears to catch the sound.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then Nanny gi'ed his zide a kick,</p>
+<p>An' het en wi' her limber stick;</p><a name="page330" id="page330"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;330]</span>
+<p>But suddenly a horn did sound,</p>
+<p>An' zend the ho'semen on vull bound;</p>
+<p class="i2">An' her ho'se at the zight</p>
+<p class="i2">Went after em, vull flight,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' Nanny in a fright,</p>
+<p>A-pull&egrave;n, wi' a scream an' grin,</p>
+<p>Her wold brown ra&iuml;ns to hold en in.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But no! he went away vull bound,</p>
+<p>As vast as he could tear the ground,</p>
+<p>An' took, in line, a so'jer's ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Vor Nanny's cloke an' frighten'd fe&auml;ce;</p>
+<p class="i2">While vo'k did laugh an' shout</p>
+<p class="i2">To zee her cloke stream out,</p>
+<p class="i2">As she did wheel about,</p>
+<p>A-cry&egrave;n, "Oh! la! dear!" in fright,</p>
+<p>The while her ho'se did pla&yuml; sham fight.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p330" id="p330"></a>
+
+<h4>MOONLIGHT ON THE DOOR.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A-swa&yuml;&egrave;n slow, the poplar's head,</p>
+<p class="i2">Above the slop&egrave;n thatch did ply,</p>
+<p>The while the midnight moon did shed</p>
+<p class="i2">His light below the spangled sky.</p>
+<p>An' there the road did reach avore</p>
+<p class="i2">The hatch, all vootless down the hill;</p>
+<p class="i2">An' hands, a-tired by day, wer still,</p>
+<p>Wi' moonlight on the door.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A-boom&egrave;n deep, did slowly sound</p>
+<p class="i2">The bell, a-tell&egrave;n middle night;</p>
+<p>The while the quiv'r&egrave;n ivy, round</p>
+<p class="i2">The tree, did she&auml;ke in softest light.</p><a name="page331" id="page331"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;331]</span>
+<p>But vootless wer the stwone avore</p>
+<p class="i2">The house where I, the ma&iuml;dens guest,</p>
+<p class="i2">At even&egrave;n, woonce did zit at rest</p>
+<p>By moonlight on the door.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Though till the dawn, where night's a-me&auml;de</p>
+<p class="i2">The day, the laugh&egrave;n crowds be ga&yuml;,</p>
+<p>Let even&egrave;n zink wi' quiet she&auml;de,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where I do hold my little swa&yuml;.</p>
+<p>An' childern dear to my heart's core,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-sleep wi' little heav&egrave;n breast,</p>
+<p class="i2">That pank'd by day in pla&yuml;, do rest</p>
+<p>Wi' moonlight on the door.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But still 'tis good, woonce now an' then</p>
+<p class="i2">To rove where moonlight on the land</p>
+<p>Do show in va&iuml;n, vor heedless men,</p>
+<p class="i2">The road, the vield, the work in hand.</p>
+<p>When curtains be a-hung avore</p>
+<p class="i2">The glitt'r&egrave;n windows, snowy white,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' vine-leaf she&auml;des do she&auml;ke in light</p>
+<p>O' moonlight on the door.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p331" id="p331"></a>
+
+<h4>MY LOVE'S GUARDIAN ANGEL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As in the cool-a&iuml;r'd road I come by,</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night,</p>
+<p>Under the moon-clim'd height o' the sky,</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night,</p>
+<p>There by the lime's broad lim's as I sta&yuml;'d,</p>
+<p>Dark in the moonlight, bough's she&auml;dows pla&yuml;'d</p>
+<p>Up on the window-glass that did keep</p>
+<p>Lew vrom the wind, my true love asleep,</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>While in the grey-wall'd height o' the tow'r,</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night,</p><a name="page332" id="page332"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;332]</span>
+<p>Sounded the midnight bell wi' the hour,</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night,</p>
+<p>There lo! a bright-he&auml;ir'd angel that shed</p>
+<p>Light vrom her white robe's zilvery thread,</p>
+<p>Put her vore-vinger up vor to me&auml;ke</p>
+<p>Silence around lest sleepers mid we&auml;ke,</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night.</p>
+<p>"Oh! then," I whisper'd, do I behold</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night.</p>
+<p>Linda, my true-love, here in the cwold,</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night?"</p>
+<p>"No," she me&auml;de answer, "you do miste&auml;ke:</p>
+<p>She is asleep, but I that do we&auml;ke,</p>
+<p>Here be on watch, an' angel a-blest,</p>
+<p>Over her slumber while she do rest,</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Zee how the winds, while here by the bough,</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night,</p>
+<p>They do pass on, don't smite on her brow,</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night;</p>
+<p>Zee how the cloud-she&auml;des na&iuml;seless do zweep</p>
+<p>Over the house-top where she's asleep.</p>
+<p>You, too, goo by, in times that be near,</p>
+<p>You too, as I, mid speak in her ear</p>
+<p class="i22">                   &mdash;in the night."</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p332" id="p332"></a>
+
+<h4>LEEBURN MILL,</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ov all the me&auml;ds wi' shoals an' pools,</p>
+<p>Where streams did she&auml;ke the limber zedge,</p>
+<p>An' milk&egrave;n vo'k did te&auml;ke their stools,</p>
+<p>In even&egrave;n zun-light under hedge:</p>
+<p>Ov all the wears the brook did vill,</p>
+<p>Or all the hatches where a sheet</p><a name="page333" id="page333"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;333]</span>
+<p>O' foam did le&auml;p below woone's veet,</p>
+<p>The ple&auml;ce vor me wer Leeburn Mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' while below the mossy wheel</p>
+<p>All day the foam&egrave;n stream did roar,</p>
+<p>An' up in mill the float&egrave;n meal</p>
+<p>Did pitch upon the she&auml;k&egrave;n vloor.</p>
+<p>We then could vind but vew han's still,</p>
+<p>Or veet a-rest&egrave;n off the ground,</p>
+<p>An' seldom hear the merry sound</p>
+<p>O' ge&auml;mes a-play'd at Leeburn Mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But when they let the stream goo free,</p>
+<p>Bezide the dripp&egrave;n wheel at rest,</p>
+<p>An' leaves upon the poplar-tree</p>
+<p>Wer dark avore the glow&egrave;n west;</p>
+<p>An' when the clock, a-ring&egrave;n sh'ill,</p>
+<p>Did slowly be&auml;t zome even&egrave;n hour,</p>
+<p>Oh! then 'ithin the leafy bow'r</p>
+<p>Our tongues did run at Leeburn Mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when November's win' did blow,</p>
+<p>Wi' huffl&egrave;n storms along the pla&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>An' blacken'd leaves did lie below</p>
+<p>The ne&auml;ked tree, a-zoak'd wi' ra&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>I werden at a loss to vill</p>
+<p>The darkest hour o' ra&iuml;ny skies,</p>
+<p>If I did vind avore my eyes</p>
+<p>The fe&auml;ces down at Leeburn Mill.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p333" id="p333"></a>
+
+<h4>PRAISE O' DO'SET.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>We Do'set, though we mid be hwomely,</p>
+<p class="i2">Be'nt ashe&auml;m'd to own our ple&auml;ce;</p>
+<p>An' we've zome women not uncomely;</p>
+<p class="i2">Nor ashe&auml;m'd to show their fe&auml;ce:</p><a name="page334" id="page334"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;334]</span>
+<p>We've a me&auml;d or two wo'th mow&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>We've an ox or two we'th show&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i6">In the village,</p>
+<p class="i6">At the tillage,</p>
+<p>Come along an' you shall vind</p>
+<p>That Do'set men don't she&auml;me their kind.</p>
+<p class="i4">Friend an' wife,</p>
+<p class="i4">Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers,</p>
+<p class="i4">Happy, happy, be their life!</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor Do'set dear,</p>
+<p class="i4">Then gi'e woone cheer;</p>
+<p class="i4">D'ye hear? woone cheer!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If you in Do'set be a-roam&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' ha' business at a farm,</p>
+<p>Then woont ye zee your e&auml;le a-foam&egrave;n!</p>
+<p class="i2">Or your cider down to warm?</p>
+<p>Woont ye have brown bread a-put ye,</p>
+<p>An' some vinny cheese a-cut ye?</p>
+<p class="i6">Butter?&mdash;rolls o't!</p>
+<p class="i6">Cream?&mdash;why bowls o't!</p>
+<p>Woont ye have, in short, your vill,</p>
+<p>A-gi'ed wi' a right good will?</p>
+<p class="i4">Friend an' wife,</p>
+<p class="i4">Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers.</p>
+<p class="i4">Happy, happy, be their life!</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor Do'set dear,</p>
+<p class="i4">Then gi'e woone cheer;</p>
+<p class="i4">D'ye hear? woone cheer!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' woont ye have vor ev'ry shill&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">Shill&egrave;n's wo'th at any shop,</p>
+<p>Though Do'set chaps be up to zell&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' can me&auml;ke a tidy swop?</p>
+<p>Use em well, they'll use you better;</p>
+<p>In good turns they woont be debtor.</p><a name="page335" id="page335"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;335]</span>
+<p class="i6">An' so comely,</p>
+<p class="i6">An' so hwomely,</p>
+<p>Be the ma&iuml;dens, if your son</p>
+<p>Took woone o'm, then you'd cry "Well done!"</p>
+<p class="i4">Friend an' wife,</p>
+<p class="i4">Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers,</p>
+<p class="i4">Happy, happy, be their life!</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor Do'set dear,</p>
+<p class="i4">Then gi'e woone cheer;</p>
+<p class="i4">D'ye hear? woone cheer!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If you do zee our good men travel,</p>
+<p class="i2">Down a-voot, or on their me&auml;res,</p>
+<p>Along the wind&egrave;n le&auml;nes o' gravel,</p>
+<p class="i2">To the markets or the fe&auml;irs,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Though their ho'ses cwoats be ragged,</p>
+<p>Though the men be muddy-lagg&egrave;d,</p>
+<p class="i6">Be they roughish,</p>
+<p class="i6">Be they gruffish,</p>
+<p>They be sound, an' they will stand</p>
+<p>By what is right wi' heart an' hand.</p>
+<p class="i4">Friend an' wife,</p>
+<p class="i4">Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers,</p>
+<p class="i4">Happy, happy, be their life!</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor Do'set dear,</p>
+<p class="i4">Then gi'e woone cheer;</p>
+<p class="i4">D'ye hear? woone cheer!</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+  <br /><hr /><br /><br /><br />
+<a name="page337" id="page337"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;337]</span>
+
+<h1>POEMS OF RURAL LIFE.</h1>
+
+<br /><hr class="short" /><br /><br />
+
+<h2>THIRD COLLECTION.</h2><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page339" id="page339"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;339]</span>
+
+<h4>WOONE SMILE MWORE</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O! Me&auml;ry, when the zun went down,</p>
+<p class="i2">Woone night in Spring, wi' vi'ry rim,</p>
+<p>Behind thik nap wi' woody crown,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' left your smil&egrave;n fe&auml;ce so dim;</p>
+<p>Your little sister there, inside,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' bellows on her little knee,</p>
+<p>Did blow the vier, a-glear&egrave;n wide</p>
+<p class="i2">Drough window-pe&auml;nes, that I could zee,&mdash;</p>
+<p>As you did stan' wi' me, avore</p>
+<p>The house, a-pe&auml;rten,&mdash;woone smile mwore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The chatt'r&egrave;n birds, a-ris&egrave;n high,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' zink&egrave;n low, did swiftly vlee</p>
+<p>Vrom shrink&egrave;n moss, a-grow&egrave;n dry,</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon the le&auml;n&egrave;n apple tree.</p>
+<p>An' there the dog, a-whipp&egrave;n wide</p>
+<p class="i2">His he&auml;iry ta&iuml;l, an' com&egrave;n near,</p>
+<p>Did fondly lay age&auml;n your zide</p>
+<p class="i2">His coal-black nose an' russet ear:</p>
+<p>To win what I'd a-won avore,</p>
+<p>Vrom your ga&yuml; fe&auml;ce, his woone smile mwore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' while your mother bustled sprack,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-gett&egrave;n supper out in hall,</p>
+<p>An' cast her she&auml;de, a-whiv'r&egrave;n black</p>
+<p class="i2">Avore the vier, upon the wall;</p>
+<p>Your brother come, wi' easy pe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">In drough the slamm&egrave;n ge&auml;te, along</p><a name="page340" id="page340"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;340]</span>
+<p>The path, wi' healthy-bloom&egrave;n fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-whis'l&egrave;n shrill his last new zong;</p>
+<p>An' when he come avore the door,</p>
+<p>He met vrom you his woone smile mwore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now you that wer the daughter there,</p>
+<p class="i2">Be mother on a husband's vloor,</p>
+<p>An' mid ye meet wi' less o' ce&auml;re</p>
+<p class="i2">Than what your hearty mother bore;</p>
+<p>An' if abroad I have to rue</p>
+<p class="i2">The bitter tongue, or wrongvul deed,</p>
+<p>Mid I come hwome to she&auml;re wi' you</p>
+<p class="i2">What's needvul free o' pinch&egrave;n need:</p>
+<p>An' vind that you ha' still in store,</p>
+<p>My even&egrave;n meal, an' woone smile mwore.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p340" id="p340"></a>
+
+<h4>THE ECHO.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>About the tow'r an' churchyard wall,</p>
+<p class="i2">Out nearly overright our door,</p>
+<p>A tongue ov wind did always call</p>
+<p class="i2">Whatever we did call avore.</p>
+<p>The va&iuml;ce did mock our ne&auml;mes, our cheers,</p>
+<p class="i2">Our merry laughs, our hands' loud claps,</p>
+<p>An' mother's call "Come, come, my dears"</p>
+<p class="i24">                    &mdash;<i>my dears</i>;</p>
+<p class="i2">Or "Do as I do bid, bad chaps"</p>
+<p class="i24">                    &mdash;<i>bad chaps</i>.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when o' Zundays on the green,</p>
+<p class="i2">In frocks an' cwoats as ga&yuml; as new,</p>
+<p>We walk'd wi' shoes a-me&auml;de to sheen</p>
+<p class="i2">So black an' bright's a vull-ripe slooe</p><a name="page341" id="page341"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;341]</span>
+<p>We then did hear the tongue ov a&iuml;r</p>
+<p class="i2">A-mock&egrave;n mother's va&iuml;ce so thin,</p>
+<p>"Come, now the bell do goo vor pra&yuml;'r"</p>
+<p class="i24">                    &mdash;<i>vor pray'r</i>;</p>
+<p>"'Tis time to goo to church; come in"</p>
+<p class="i24">                    &mdash;<i>come in</i>.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The night when little Anne, that died,</p>
+<p class="i2">Begun to zick&egrave;n, back in Ma&yuml;,</p>
+<p>An' she, at dusk ov even&egrave;n-tide,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer out wi' others at their pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p>Within the churchyard that do keep</p>
+<p class="i2">Her little bed, the va&iuml;ce o' thin</p>
+<p>Dark a&iuml;r, mock'd mother's call "To sleep"</p>
+<p class="i24">                    &mdash;<i>to sleep</i>;</p>
+<p>"'Tis bed time now, my love, come in"</p>
+<p class="i24">                    &mdash;<i>come in</i>.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when our Je&auml;ne come out so smart</p>
+<p class="i2">A-married, an' we help'd her in</p>
+<p>To Henry's newly-pa&iuml;nted cart,</p>
+<p class="i2">The while the wheels begun to spin,</p>
+<p>An' her ga&yuml; nods, vor all she smil'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did she&auml;ke a tear-drop vrom each eye,</p>
+<p>The va&iuml;ce mock'd mother's call, "Dear child"</p>
+<p class="i24">                    &mdash;<i>dear child</i>;</p>
+<p class="i2">"God bless ye evermwore; good bye"</p>
+<p class="i24">                    &mdash;<i>good bye</i>.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p341" id="p341"></a>
+
+<h4>VULL A MAN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No, I'm a man, I'm vull a man,</p>
+<p>You be&auml;t my manhood, if you can.</p>
+<p>You'll be a man if you can te&auml;ke</p>
+<p>All ste&auml;tes that household life do me&auml;ke.</p><a name="page342" id="page342"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;342]</span>
+<p>The love-toss'd child, a-croodl&egrave;n loud,</p>
+<p class="i2">The bwoy a-scream&egrave;n wild in pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p>The tall grown youth a-stepp&egrave;n proud,</p>
+<p class="i2">The father sta&iuml;d, the house's sta&yuml;.</p>
+<p class="i4">No; I can boast if others can,</p>
+<p class="i10">I'm vull a man.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A young-che&auml;k'd mother's tears mid vall,</p>
+<p>When woone a-lost, not half man-tall,</p>
+<p>Vrom little hand, a-called vrom pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;ve noo tool, but drop a ta&yuml;,</p>
+<p>An' die avore he's father-free</p>
+<p class="i2">To she&auml;pe his life by his own plan;</p>
+<p>An' vull an angel he shall be,</p>
+<p class="i2">But here on e'th not vull a man,</p>
+<p class="i4">No; I could boast if others can,</p>
+<p class="i10">I'm vull a man.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I woonce, a child, wer father-fed,</p>
+<p>An' I've a vound my childern bread;</p>
+<p>My e&auml;rm, a sister's trusty crook,</p>
+<p>Is now a fa&iuml;thvul wife's own hook;</p>
+<p>An' I've a-gone where vo'k did zend,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' gone upon my own free mind,</p>
+<p>An' of'en at my own wits' end.</p>
+<p class="i2">A-led o' God while I wer blind.</p>
+<p class="i4">No; I could boast if others can</p>
+<p class="i10">I'm vull a man.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' still, ov all my tweil ha' won,</p>
+<p>My lov&egrave;n ma&iuml;d an' merry son,</p>
+<p>Though each in turn's a ja&yuml; an' ce&auml;re,</p>
+<p>'Ve a-had, an' still shall have, their she&auml;re:</p>
+<p>An' then, if God should bless their lives,</p>
+<p class="i2">Why I mid zend vrom son to son</p><a name="page343" id="page343"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;343]</span>
+<p>My life, right on drough men an' wives,</p>
+<p class="i2">As long, good now, as time do run.</p>
+<p class="i4">No; I could boast if others can,</p>
+<p class="i10">I'm vull a man.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p343" id="p343"></a>
+
+<h4>NAIGHBOUR PLA&Yuml;ME&Auml;TES.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O ja&yuml; betide the dear wold mill,</p>
+<p class="i2">My na&iuml;ghbour pla&yuml;me&auml;tes' happy hwome,</p>
+<p>Wi' roll&egrave;n wheel, an' le&auml;p&egrave;n foam,</p>
+<p class="i2">Below the overhang&egrave;n hill,</p>
+<p class="i6">Where, wide an' slow,</p>
+<p class="i6">The stream did flow,</p>
+<p>An' flags did grow, an' lightly vlee</p>
+<p>Below the grey-leav'd withy tree,</p>
+<p>While clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour,</p>
+<p>Wi' whirl&egrave;n stwone, an' stream&egrave;n flour,</p>
+<p>Did goo the mill by cloty Stour.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there in ge&auml;mes by even&egrave;n skies,</p>
+<p class="i2">When Me&auml;ry zot her down to rest,</p>
+<p>The broach upon her pank&egrave;n breast,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did quickly vall an' lightly rise,</p>
+<p class="i6">While swans did zwim</p>
+<p class="i6">In ste&auml;tely trim.</p>
+<p>An' swifts did skim the water, bright</p>
+<p>Wi' whirl&egrave;n froth, in western light;</p>
+<p>An' clack, clack, clack, that happy hour,</p>
+<p>Wi' whirl&egrave;n stwone, an' stream&egrave;n flour,</p>
+<p>Did goo the mill by cloty Stour.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now mortery jeints, in streaks o' white,</p>
+<p class="i2">Along the ge&auml;rd&egrave;n wall do show</p>
+<p>In Ma&yuml;, an' cherry boughs do blow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' bloom&egrave;n tutties, snowy white,</p><a name="page344" id="page344"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;344]</span>
+<p class="i6">Where roll&egrave;n round,</p>
+<p class="i6">Wi' rumbl&egrave;n sound,</p>
+<p>The wheel woonce drown'd the va&iuml;ce so dear</p>
+<p>To me. I fa&iuml;n would goo to hear</p>
+<p>The clack, clack, clack, vor woone short hour,</p>
+<p>Wi' whirl&egrave;n stwone, an' stream&egrave;n flour,</p>
+<p>Bezide the mill on cloty Stour.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But should I vind a-heav&egrave;n now</p>
+<p class="i2">Her breast wi' a&iuml;r o' thik dear ple&auml;ce?</p>
+<p>Or zee dark locks by such a brow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or het o' pla&yuml; on such a fe&auml;ce?</p>
+<p class="i6">No! She's now sta&iuml;d,</p>
+<p class="i6">An' where she pla&yuml;'d,</p>
+<p>There's noo such ma&iuml;d that now ha' took</p>
+<p>The ple&auml;ce that she ha' long vorsook,</p>
+<p>Though clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour,</p>
+<p>Wi' whirl&egrave;n stwone an' stream&egrave;n flour,</p>
+<p>Do goo the mill by cloty Stour.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' still the pulley rwope do heist</p>
+<p class="i2">The wheat vrom red-wheeled waggon beds.</p>
+<p>An' ho'ses there wi' lwoads of grist,</p>
+<p class="i2">Do stand an' toss their heavy heads;</p>
+<p class="i6">But on the vloor,</p>
+<p class="i6">Or at the door,</p>
+<p>Do show noo mwore the kindly fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Her father show'd about the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>As clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour,</p>
+<p>Wi' whirl&egrave;n stwone, an' stream&egrave;n flour,</p>
+<p>Did goo his mill by cloty Stour.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<br /><br />
+
+<a name="page345" id="page345"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;345]</span>
+
+<h4>THE LARK.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As I, below the morn&egrave;n sky,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer out a work&egrave;n in the lew</p>
+<p>O' black-stemm'd thorns, a-spring&egrave;n high,</p>
+<p class="i2">Avore the worold-bound&egrave;n blue,</p>
+<p>A-re&auml;k&egrave;n, under woak tree boughs,</p>
+<p>The orts a-left behin' by cows.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Above the grey-grow'd thistle rings,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' de&auml;isy-buds, the lark, in flight,</p>
+<p>Did zing a-loft, wi' flapp&egrave;n wings,</p>
+<p class="i2">Tho' mwore in he&auml;r&egrave;n than in zight;</p>
+<p>The while my bwoys, in pla&yuml;vul me'th,</p>
+<p>Did run till they wer out o' breath.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then woone, wi' han'-beshe&auml;ded eyes,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-stopp&egrave;n still, as he did run,</p>
+<p>Look'd up to zee the lark arise</p>
+<p class="i2">A-zing&egrave;n to the high-gone zun;</p>
+<p>The while his brother look'd below</p>
+<p>Vor what the groun' mid have to show</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo woone did watch above his head</p>
+<p class="i2">The bird his hands could never te&auml;ke;</p>
+<p>An' woone, below, where he did tread,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vound out the nest within the bre&auml;ke;</p>
+<p>But, aggs be only woonce a-vound,</p>
+<p>An' uncaught larks age&auml;n mid sound.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p345" id="p345"></a>
+
+<h4>THE TWO CHURCHES.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A happy day, a happy year.</p>
+<p>A zummer Zunday, dazzl&egrave;n clear,</p>
+<p>I went athirt vrom Lea to Noke.</p>
+<p>To goo to church wi' Fanny's vo'k:</p><a name="page346" id="page346"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;346]</span>
+<p>The sky o' blue did only show</p>
+<p>A cloud or two, so white as snow,</p>
+<p>An' a&iuml;r did swa&yuml;, wi' softest strokes,</p>
+<p>The eltrot roun' the dark-bough'd woaks.</p>
+<p>O day o' rest when bells do toll!</p>
+<p>O day a-blest to ev'ry soul!</p>
+<p>How sweet the zwells o' Zunday bells.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' on the cowslip-knap at Creech,</p>
+<p>Below the grove o' ste&auml;tely beech,</p>
+<p>I he&auml;rd two tow'rs a-cheem&egrave;n clear,</p>
+<p>Vrom woone I went, to woone drew near,</p>
+<p>As they did call, by flow'ry ground,</p>
+<p>The bright-shod veet vrom housen round,</p>
+<p>A-drown&egrave;n wi' their holy call,</p>
+<p>The goocoo an' the water-vall.</p>
+<p>Die off, O bells o' my dear ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Ring out, O bells avore my fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Vull sweet your zwells, O ding-dong bells.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! then vor things that time did bring</p>
+<p>My kinsvo'k, <i>Lea</i> had bells to ring;</p>
+<p>An' then, age&auml;n, vor what bevell</p>
+<p>My wife's, why <i>Noke</i> church had a bell;</p>
+<p>But soon wi' hopevul lives a-bound</p>
+<p>In woone, we had woone tower's sound,</p>
+<p>Vor our high ja&yuml;s all vive bells rung</p>
+<p>Our losses had woone iron tongue.</p>
+<p>Oh! ring all round, an' never mwo&auml;n</p>
+<p>So deep an' slow woone bell alwone,</p>
+<p>Vor sweet your swells o' vive clear bells.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<br /><br />
+
+<a name="page347" id="page347"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;347]</span>
+
+<h4>WOAK HILL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When sycamore leaves wer a-spread&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i8">Green-ruddy, in hedges,</p>
+<p>Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,</p>
+<p class="i8">A-dried at Woak Hill;</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I packed up my goods all a-sheen&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i8">Wi' long years o' handl&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>On dousty red wheels ov a waggon,</p>
+<p class="i8">To ride at Woak Hill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwell&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i8">I then wer a-le&auml;v&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Had shelter'd the sleek head o' Me&auml;ry,</p>
+<p class="i8">My bride at Woak Hill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall</p>
+<p class="i8">'S a-lost vrom the vloor&egrave;n.</p>
+<p>Too soon vor my ja&yuml; an' my childern,</p>
+<p class="i8">She died at Woak Hill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But still I do think that, in soul,</p>
+<p class="i8">She do hover about us;</p>
+<p>To ho vor her motherless childern,</p>
+<p class="i8">Her pride at Woak Hill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo&mdash;lest she should tell me hereafter</p>
+<p class="i8">I stole off 'ithout her,</p>
+<p>An' left her, uncall'd at house-ridd&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i8">To bide at Woak Hill&mdash;</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I call'd her so fondly, wi' lipp&egrave;ns</p>
+<p class="i8">All soundless to others,</p>
+<p>An' took her wi' a&iuml;r-reach&egrave;n hand,</p>
+<p class="i8">To my zide at Woak Hill.</p></div>
+<a name="page348" id="page348"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;348]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>On the road I did look round, a-talk&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i8">To light at my shoulder,</p>
+<p>An' then led her in at the door-way,</p>
+<p class="i8">Miles wide vrom Woak Hill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season,</p>
+<p class="i8">My mind wer a-wandr&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely</p>
+<p class="i8">A-tried at Woak Hill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But no; that my Me&auml;ry mid never</p>
+<p class="i8">Behold herzelf slighted,</p>
+<p>I wanted to think that I guided</p>
+<p class="i8">My guide vrom Woak Hill.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p348" id="p348"></a>
+
+<h4>THE HEDGER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Upon the hedge the&auml;se bank did bear,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' lwonesome thought untwold in words,</p>
+<p>I woonce did work, wi' noo sound there</p>
+<p class="i2">But my own strokes, an' chirp&egrave;n birds;</p>
+<p>As down the west the zun went wan,</p>
+<p>An' days brought on our Zunday's rest,</p>
+<p>When sounds o' cheem&egrave;n bells did vill</p>
+<p>The a&iuml;r, an' hook an' axe wer st&iuml;ll.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Along the wold town-path vo'k went,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' met unknown, or friend wi' friend,</p>
+<p>The ma&iuml;d her busy mother zent,</p>
+<p class="i2">The mother wi' noo ma&iuml;d to zend;</p>
+<p>An' in the light the gle&auml;zier's glass,</p>
+<p>As he did pass, wer dazzl&egrave;n bright,</p>
+<p>Or woone went by w&iuml;' down-cast head,</p>
+<p>A wrapp'd in blackness vor the dead.</p></div>
+<a name="page349" id="page349"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;349]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then the bank, wi' ris&egrave;n back,</p>
+<p class="i2">That's now a-most a-trodd&egrave;n down,</p>
+<p>Bore thorns wi' rind o' sheeny black,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' me&auml;ple stems o' ribby brown;</p>
+<p>An' in the lewth o' the&auml;se tree heads,</p>
+<p>Wer primrwose beds a-sprung in blooth,</p>
+<p>An' here a ge&auml;te, a-slamm&egrave;n to,</p>
+<p>Did let the slow-wheel'd plough roll drough.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ov all that then went by, but vew</p>
+<p class="i2">Be now a-left behine', to be&auml;t</p>
+<p>The morn&egrave;n flow'rs or even&egrave;n dew,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or slam the woak&egrave;n vive-bar'd ge&auml;te;</p>
+<p>But woone, my wife, so litty-stepp'd,</p>
+<p>That have a-kept my path o' life,</p>
+<p>Wi' her vew errands on the road,</p>
+<p>Where woonce she bore her mother's lwoad.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p349" id="p349"></a>
+
+<h4>IN THE SPRING.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My love is the ma&iuml;d ov all ma&iuml;dens,</p>
+<p class="i2">Though all mid be comely,</p>
+<p>Her skin's lik' the jessamy blossom</p>
+<p class="i2">A-spread in the Spring.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Her smile is so sweet as a be&auml;by's</p>
+<p class="i2">Young smile on his mother,</p>
+<p>Her eyes be as bright as the dew drop</p>
+<p class="i2">A-shed in the Spring.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O grey-leafy pinks o' the ge&auml;rden,</p>
+<p class="i2">Now bear her sweet blossoms;</p>
+<p>Now deck wi' a rwose-bud, O briar.</p>
+<p class="i2">Her head in the Spring.</p></div>
+<a name="page350" id="page350"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;350]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O light-roll&egrave;n wind blow me hither,</p>
+<p class="i2">The v&auml;ice ov her talk&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Or bring vrom her veet the light doust,</p>
+<p class="i2">She do tread in the Spring.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O zun, me&auml;ke the gil'cups all glitter,</p>
+<p class="i2">In goold all around her;</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;ke o' the de&auml;isys' white flowers</p>
+<p class="i2">A bed in the Spring.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O whissle ga&yuml; birds, up bezide her,</p>
+<p class="i2">In drong-wa&yuml;, an' woodlands,</p>
+<p>O zing, swing&egrave;n lark, now the clouds,</p>
+<p class="i2">Be a-vled in the Spring.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' who, you mid ax, be my pra&iuml;ses</p>
+<p class="i2">A-me&auml;k&egrave;n so much o',</p>
+<p>An' oh! 'tis the ma&iuml;d I'm a-hop&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">To wed in the Spring.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p350" id="p350"></a>
+
+<h4>THE FLOOD IN SPRING.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Last night below the elem in the lew</p>
+<p class="i4">Bright the sky did gleam</p>
+<p>On water blue, while a&iuml;r did softly blow</p>
+<p class="i4">On the flow&egrave;n stream,</p>
+<p>An' there wer gil'cups' buds untwold,</p>
+<p>An' de&auml;isies that begun to vwold</p>
+<p>Their low-stemm'd blossoms vrom my zight</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n the night, an' even&egrave;n's cwold.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But, oh! so cwold below the darksome cloud</p>
+<p class="i4">Soon the night-wind roar'd,</p>
+<p>Wi' ra&iuml;ny storms that zent the zwoll&egrave;n streams</p>
+<p class="i4">Over ev'ry vword.</p><a name="page351" id="page351"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;351]</span>
+<p>The while the dripp&egrave;n tow'r did tell</p>
+<p>The hour, wi' storm-be-smother'd bell,</p>
+<p>An' over ev'ry flower's bud</p>
+<p>Roll'd on the flood, 'ithin the dell.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But when the zun arose, an' lik' a rwose</p>
+<p class="i4">Shone the morn&egrave;n sky;</p>
+<p>An' roun' the woak, the wind a-blow&egrave;n weak,</p>
+<p class="i4">Softly whiver'd by.</p>
+<p>Though drown'd wer still the dea&iuml;sy bed</p>
+<p>Below the flood, its fe&auml;ce instead</p>
+<p>O' flow'ry grown', below our shoes</p>
+<p>Show'd fe&auml;irest views o' skies o'er head.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo to try if all our fa&iuml;th is true</p>
+<p class="i4">Ja&yuml; mid end in tears,</p>
+<p>An' hope, woonce fe&auml;ir, mid sadd&egrave;n into fear,</p>
+<p class="i4">Here in e'thly years.</p>
+<p>But He that tried our soul do know</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke us good amends, an' show</p>
+<p>Instead o' things a-took awa&yuml;,</p>
+<p>Some higher ja&yuml; that He'll bestow.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p351" id="p351"></a>
+
+<h4>COMEN HWOME</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As clouds did ride wi' he&auml;sty flight.</p>
+<p>An' woods did sw&auml;y upon the height,</p>
+<p>An' ble&auml;des o' grass did she&auml;ke, below</p>
+<p>The hedge-row bremble's swing&egrave;n bow,</p>
+<p>I come back hwome where winds did zwell,</p>
+<p class="i2">In whirls along the woody gle&auml;des,</p>
+<p class="i2">On primrwose beds, in windy she&auml;des,</p>
+<p>To Burnley's dark-tree'd dell.</p></div>
+<a name="page352" id="page352"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;352]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There hills do screen the timber's bough,</p>
+<p>The trees do screen the le&auml;ze's brow,</p>
+<p>The timber-she&auml;ded le&auml;ze do bear</p>
+<p>A be&auml;ten path that we do wear.</p>
+<p>The path do stripe the le&auml;ze's zide,</p>
+<p class="i2">To willows at the river's edge.</p>
+<p class="i2">Where huffl&egrave;n winds did she&auml;ke the zedge</p>
+<p>An' sparkl&egrave;n we&auml;ves did glide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' where the river, bend by bend,</p>
+<p>Do dr&auml;in our me&auml;d, an' mark its end,</p>
+<p>The hang&egrave;n le&auml;ze do te&auml;ke our cows,</p>
+<p>An' trees do she&auml;de em wi' their boughs,</p>
+<p>An' I the quicker be&auml;t the road,</p>
+<p class="i2">To zee a-com&egrave;n into view,</p>
+<p class="i2">Still greener vrom the sky-line's blue,</p>
+<p>Wold Burnley our abode.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p352" id="p352"></a>
+
+<h4>GRAMMER A-CRIPPLED.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"The zunny copse ha' birds to zing,</p>
+<p class="i2">The le&auml;ze ha' cows to low,</p>
+<p>The elem trees ha' rooks on wing,</p>
+<p class="i2">The me&auml;ds a brook to flow,</p>
+<p>But I can walk noo mwore, to pass</p>
+<p class="i2">The drashel out abrode,</p>
+<p>To wear a path in the&auml;se year's grass</p>
+<p class="i2">Or tread the wheelworn road,"</p>
+<p>Cried Grammer, "then adieu,</p>
+<p class="i4">O runn&egrave;n brooks,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' vle&egrave;n rooks,</p>
+<p>I can't come out to you.</p>
+<p>If 'tis God's will, why then 'tis well,</p>
+<p>That I should bide 'ithin a wall."</p></div>
+<a name="page353" id="page353"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;353]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then the childern, wild wi' fun,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' loud wi' ja&yuml;vul sounds,</p>
+<p>Sprung in an' cried, "We had a run,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-pla&yuml;&egrave;n he&auml;re an' hounds;</p>
+<p>But oh! the cowslips where we stopt</p>
+<p class="i2">In Ma&yuml;creech, on the knap!"</p>
+<p>An' vrom their little han's each dropt</p>
+<p class="i2">Some cowslips in her lap.</p>
+<p>Cried Grammer, "Only zee!</p>
+<p class="i4">I can't te&auml;ke strolls,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' little souls</p>
+<p>Would bring the vields to me.</p>
+<p>Since 'tis God's will, an' mus' be well</p>
+<p>That I should bide 'ithin a wall."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Oh! there be prison walls to hold</p>
+<p class="i2">The han's o' lawless crimes,</p>
+<p>An' there be walls arear'd vor wold</p>
+<p class="i2">An' zick in try&egrave;n times;</p>
+<p>But oh! though low mid slant my ruf,</p>
+<p class="i2">Though hard my lot mid be,</p>
+<p>Though dry mid come my daily lwoaf,</p>
+<p class="i2">Mid mercy le&auml;ve me free!"</p>
+<p>Cried Grammer, "Or adieu</p>
+<p class="i4">To ja&yuml;; O grounds,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' bird's ga&yuml; sounds</p>
+<p>If I mus' gi'e up you,</p>
+<p>Although 'tis well, in God's good will,</p>
+<p>That I should bide 'ithin a wall."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Oh! then," we answer'd, "never fret,</p>
+<p class="i2">If we shall be a-blest,</p>
+<p>We'll work vull hard drough het an' wet</p>
+<p class="i2">To keep your heart at rest:</p>
+<p>To woaken chair's vor you to vill,</p>
+<p class="i2">For you shall glow the coal,</p><a name="page354" id="page354"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;354]</span>
+<p>An' when the win' do whissle sh'ill</p>
+<p class="i2">We'll screen it vrom your poll."</p>
+<p>Cried Grammer, "God is true.</p>
+<p class="i4">I can't but feel</p>
+<p class="i4">He smote to heal</p>
+<p>My wounded heart in you;</p>
+<p>An' zoo 'tis well, if 'tis His will,</p>
+<p>That I be here 'ithin a wall."</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p354" id="p354"></a>
+
+<h4>THE CASTLE RUINS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A happy day at Whitsuntide,</p>
+<p class="i2">As soon's the zun begun to vall,</p>
+<p>We all stroll'd up the steep hill-zide</p>
+<p class="i2">To Meldon, girt an' small;</p>
+<p>Out where the castle wall stood high</p>
+<p>A-mwoldr&egrave;n to the zunny sky.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there wi' Jenny took a stroll</p>
+<p class="i2">Her youngest sister, Poll, so ga&yuml;,</p>
+<p>Bezide John Hind, ah! merry soul,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' mid her wedlock fa&yuml;;</p>
+<p>An' at our zides did play an' run</p>
+<p>My little ma&iuml;d an' smaller son.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Above the be&auml;ten mwold upsprung</p>
+<p class="i2">The driven doust, a-spread&euml;n light,</p>
+<p>An' on the new-leav'd thorn, a-hung,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer wool a-quiv'r&egrave;n white;</p>
+<p>An' corn, a sheen&egrave;n bright, did bow,</p>
+<p>On slop&egrave;n Meldon's zunny brow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There, down the rufless wall did glow</p>
+<p class="i2">The zun upon the grassy vloor,</p>
+<p>An' weakly-wandr&egrave;n winds did blow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Unhinder'd by a door;</p><a name="page355" id="page355"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;355]</span>
+<p>An' smokeless now avore the zun</p>
+<p>Did stan' the ivy-girded tun.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My bwoy did watch the daws' bright wings</p>
+<p class="i2">A-flapp&egrave;n vrom their ivy bow'rs;</p>
+<p>My wife did watch my ma&iuml;d's light springs,</p>
+<p class="i2">Out here an' there vor flow'rs;</p>
+<p>And John did zee noo tow'rs, the ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Vor him had only Polly's fe&auml;ce.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, of all that pried about</p>
+<p class="i2">The walls, I overlook'd em best,</p>
+<p>An' what o' that? Why, I me&auml;de out</p>
+<p class="i2">Noo mwore than all the rest:</p>
+<p>That there wer woonce the nest of zome</p>
+<p>That wer a-gone avore we come.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When woonce above the tun the smoke</p>
+<p class="i2">Did wreathy blue among the trees,</p>
+<p>An' down below, the liv&egrave;n vo'k,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did tweil as brisk as bees;</p>
+<p>Or zit wi' weary knees, the while</p>
+<p>The sky wer lightless to their tweil.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<hr /><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p355" id="p355"></a>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<h3>JOHN, JEALOUS AT SHROTON FE&Auml;IR.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>Je&auml;ne; her Brother; John, her Sweetheart; and Racket&egrave;n Joe</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h5>JE&Auml;NE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>I'm thankvul I be out o' that</p>
+<p>Thick crowd, an' not asquot quite flat.</p>
+<p>That ever we should plunge in where the vo'k do drunge</p>
+<p>So tight's the cheese-wring on the ve&auml;t!</p><a name="page356" id="page356"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;356]</span>
+<p>I've sca'ce a thing a-left in ple&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>'Tis all a-tore vrom pin an' le&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>My bonnet's like a wad, a-be&auml;t up to a dod,</p>
+<p>An' all my he&auml;ir's about my fe&auml;ce.</p>
+  </div>
+</div><br />
+
+<h5>HER BROTHER.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Here, come an' zit out here a bit,</p>
+<p>An' put yourzelf to rights.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>No, Je&auml;ne; no, no! Now you don't show</p>
+<p>The very wo'st o' plights.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>HER BROTHER.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Come, come, there's little harm adone;</p>
+<p>Your hoops be out so roun's the zun.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there's your bonnet back in she&auml;pe.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>HER BROTHER.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there's your pin, and there's your ce&auml;pe.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there your curls do match, an' there</p>
+<p>'S the vittiest ma&iuml;d in all the fe&auml;ir.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JE&Auml;NE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Now look, an' tell us who's a-spied</p>
+<p>Vrom Sturminster, or Manston zide.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>HER BROTHER.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>There's rant&egrave;n Joe! How he do stalk,</p>
+<p>An' zwang his whip, an' laugh, an' talk!</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>An' how his head do wag, avore his stepp&egrave;n lag.</p>
+<p>Jist like a pigeon's in a walk!</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>HER BROTHER.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Heigh! there, then, Joey, ben't we proud</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page357" id="page357"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;357]</span>
+
+<h5>JE&Auml;NE.</h5>
+ <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>He can't hear you among the crowd.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>HER BROTHER.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Why, no, the thunder peals do drown the sound o' wheels.</p>
+<p>His own pipe is a-pitched too loud.</p>
+<p>What, you here too?</p>
+  </div>
+ </div><br />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i18">           Yes, Sir, to you.</p>
+<p>All o' me that's a-left.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JE&Auml;NE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>A body plump's a goodish lump</p>
+<p>Where re&auml;mes ha' such a heft.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Who lost his crown a-rac&egrave;n?</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i22">                   Who?</p>
+<p>Zome silly chap aback&egrave;n you.</p>
+<p>Well, now, an' how do vo'k treat Je&auml;ne?</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JE&Auml;NE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Why not wi' fe&auml;r&egrave;ns.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i16">            What d'ye me&auml;n,</p>
+<p>When I've a-brought ye such a bunch</p>
+<p>O' the&auml;se nice ginger-nuts to crunch?</p>
+<p>An' here, John, here! you te&auml;ke a vew.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>No, keep em all vor Je&auml;ne an' you!</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, Je&auml;ne, an' when d'ye me&auml;n to come</p>
+<p>An' call on me, then, up at hwome.</p>
+<p>You han't a-come athirt, since I'd my voot a-hurt,</p>
+<p>A-slipp&egrave;n vrom the tree I clomb.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+
+<a name="page358" id="page358"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;358]</span>
+
+<h5>JE&Auml;NE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, if so be that you be stout</p>
+<p>On voot age&auml;n, you'll vind me out.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, better chaps woont goo, not many steps vor you,</p>
+<p>If you do hawk yourzelf about.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Wull John, come too?</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i20">           No, thanks to you.</p>
+<p>Two's company, dree's nwone.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>HER BROTHER.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>There don't be stung by his mad tongue,</p>
+<p>'Tis noth&egrave;n else but fun.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JE&Auml;NE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>There, what d'ye think o' my new ce&auml;pe?</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Why, think that 'tis an ugly she&auml;pe.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JE&Auml;NE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Then you should buy me, now the&auml;se fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>A mwore becom&egrave;n woone to wear.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>I buy your ce&auml;pe! No; Joe wull scre&auml;pe</p>
+<p>Up dibs enough to buy your ce&auml;pe.</p>
+<p>As things do look, to me&auml;ke you fine</p>
+<p>Is long Joe's business mwore than mine.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JE&Auml;NE.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Lauk, John, the mwore that you do pout</p>
+<p>The mwore he'll gl&#275;ne.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i26">               A yelp&egrave;n lout.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+<a name="page359" id="page359"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;359]</span>
+
+<h4>EARLY PLA&Yuml;ME&Auml;TE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>After many long years had a-run,</p>
+<p class="i2">The while I wer a-gone vrom the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>I come back to the vields, where the zun</p>
+<p class="i2">Ov her childhood did show me her fe&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>There her father, years wolder, did stoop.</p>
+<p class="i2">An' her brother, wer now a-grow'd sta&iuml;d,</p>
+<p>An' the apple tree lower did droop.</p>
+<p class="i2">Out in the orcha'd where we had a-pla&yuml;'d,</p>
+<p>There wer zome things a-seem&egrave;n the se&auml;me,</p>
+<p class="i2">But Me&auml;ry's a-married awa&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There wer two little childern a-zent,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' a message to me, oh! so fea&iuml;r</p>
+<p>As the mother that they did zoo ment,</p>
+<p class="i2">When in childhood she pla&yuml;'d wi' me there.</p>
+<p>Zoo they twold me that if I would come</p>
+<p class="i2">Down to Coomb, I should zee a wold friend,</p>
+<p>Vor a pla&yuml;me&auml;te o' mine wer at hwome,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' would sta&yuml; till another week's end.</p>
+<p>At the dear pworch&egrave;d door, could I dare</p>
+<p class="i2">To zee Me&auml;ry a-married awa&yuml;!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>On the flower-not, now all a-trod</p>
+<p class="i2">Stwony hard, the green grass wer a-spread,</p>
+<p>An' the long-slighted woodbine did nod</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom the wall, wi' a loose-hang&egrave;n head.</p>
+<p>An' the martin's clay nest wer a-hung</p>
+<p class="i2">Up below the brown oves, in the dry,</p>
+<p>An' the rooks had a-rock'd broods o' young</p>
+<p class="i2">On the elems below the Ma&yuml; sky;</p>
+<p>But the bud on the bed, coulden bide,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' young Me&auml;ry a-married awa&yuml;.</p></div>
+<a name="page360" id="page360"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;360]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There the copse-wood, a-grow'd to a height,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer a-vell'd, an' the primrwose in blooth,</p>
+<p>Among chips on the ground a-turn'd white,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer a-quiv'r&egrave;n, all be&auml;re ov his lewth.</p>
+<p>The green moss wer a-spread on the thatch,</p>
+<p class="i2">That I left yollow reed, an' avore</p>
+<p>The small green, there did swing a new hatch,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor to let me walk into the door.</p>
+<p>Oh! the rook did still rock o'er the rick,</p>
+<p class="i2">But wi' Me&auml;ry a-married awa&yuml;.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p360" id="p360"></a>
+
+<h4>PICKEN O' SCROFF.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! the wood wer a-vell'd in the copse,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' the moss-bedded primrwose did blow;</p>
+<p>An' vrom tall-stemm&egrave;d trees' leafless tops,</p>
+<p class="i2">There did lie but slight she&auml;des down below.</p>
+<p>An' the sky wer a-show&egrave;n, in drough</p>
+<p>By the tree-stems, the deepest o' blue,</p>
+<p>Wi' a light that did vall on an' off</p>
+<p>The dry ground, a-strew'd over wi' scroff.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There the hedge that wer le&auml;tely so high,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer a-plush'd, an' along by the zide,</p>
+<p>Where the waggon 'd a-haul'd the wood by,</p>
+<p class="i2">There did reach the deep wheelrouts, a-dried.</p>
+<p>An' the groun' wi' the sticks wer bespread,</p>
+<p>Zome a-cut off alive, an' zome dead.</p>
+<p>An' vor burn&egrave;n, well wo'th re&auml;k&egrave;n off,</p>
+<p>By the childern a-pick&egrave;n o' scroff.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In the tree-studded le&auml;ze, where the woak</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer a-spread&egrave;n his head out around,</p>
+<p>There the scrags that the wind had a-broke,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer a-ly&egrave;n about on the ground</p><a name="page361" id="page361"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;361]</span>
+<p>Or the childern, wi' little red hands,</p>
+<p>Wer a-ty&egrave;n em up in their bands;</p>
+<p>Vor noo squier or farmer turn'd off</p>
+<p>Little childern a-pick&egrave;n o' scroff.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There wer woone bloom&egrave;n child wi' a cloak</p>
+<p class="i2">On her shoulders, as green as the ground;</p>
+<p>An' another, as gray as the woak,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' a bwoy in a brown frock, a-brown'd.</p>
+<p>An' woone got up, in pla&yuml;, vor to ta&iuml;t,</p>
+<p>On a woak-limb, a-grow&egrave;n out stra&iuml;ght.</p>
+<p>But she soon wer a-ta&iuml;ted down off,</p>
+<p>By her me&auml;tes out a-pick&egrave;n o' scroff.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When they childern do grow to sta&iuml;d vo'k,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' goo out in the worold, all wide</p>
+<p>Vrom the copse, an' the zummerle&auml;ze woak,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where at last all their elders ha' died,</p>
+<p>They wull then vind it touch&egrave;n to bring,</p>
+<p>To their minds, the sweet springs o' their spring,</p>
+<p>Back avore the new vo'k did turn off</p>
+<p>The poor childern a-pick&egrave;n o' scroff.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p361" id="p361"></a>
+
+<h4>GOOD NIGHT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>While down the me&auml;ds wound slow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Water vor green-wheel'd mills,</p>
+<p>Over the streams bright bow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Win' come vrom dark-back'd hills.</p>
+<p>Birds on the win' shot along down steep</p>
+<p>Slopes, wi' a swift-swung zweep.</p>
+<p>Dim we&auml;n'd the red streak'd west</p>
+<p>Lim'-weary souls "Good rest."</p></div><a name="page362" id="page362"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;362]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Up on the plough'd hill brow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Still wer the zull's wheel'd beam,</p>
+<p>Still wer the red-wheel'd plough,</p>
+<p class="i2">Free o' the strong limb'd team,</p>
+<p>Still wer the shop that the smith me&auml;de ring,</p>
+<p>Dark where the sparks did spring;</p>
+<p>Low shot the zun's last beams.</p>
+<p>Lim'-weary souls "Good dreams."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Where I vrom dark bank-she&auml;des</p>
+<p class="i2">Turn'd up the west hill road,</p>
+<p>Where all the green grass ble&auml;des</p>
+<p class="i2">Under the zunlight glow'd.</p>
+<p>Startled I met, as the zunbeams play'd</p>
+<p>Light, wi' a zunsmote ma&iuml;d,</p>
+<p>Come vor my day's last zight,</p>
+<p>Zun-brighten'd ma&iuml;d "Good night."</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p362" id="p362"></a>
+
+<h4>WENT HWOME.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Upon the slope, the hedge did bound</p>
+<p>The yield wi' blossom-whited zide,</p>
+<p>An' charlock patches, yollow-dyed,</p>
+<p>Did reach along the white-soil'd ground,</p>
+<p>An' vo'k, a-com&egrave;n up vrom me&auml;d,</p>
+<p class="i2">Brought gil'cup meal upon the shoe;</p>
+<p>Or went on where the road did le&auml;d,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' smeechy doust from heel to tooe.</p>
+<p>As noon did smite, wi' burn&egrave;n light,</p>
+<p>The road so white, to Meldonley.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' I did tramp the zun-dried ground,</p>
+<p>By hedge-climb'd hills, a-spread wi' flow'rs,</p>
+<p>An' watershoot&egrave;n dells, an' tow'rs,</p>
+<p>By elem-trees a-hemm'd all round,</p><a name="page363" id="page363"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;363]</span>
+<p>To zee a vew wold friends, about</p>
+<p class="i2">Wold Meldon, where I still ha' zome,</p>
+<p>That bid me speed as I come out,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' now ha' bid me welcome hwome,</p>
+<p>As I did goo, while skies wer blue,</p>
+<p>Vrom view to view, to Meldonley.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there wer timber'd knaps, that show'd</p>
+<p>Cool she&auml;des, vor rest, on grassy ground,</p>
+<p>An' thatch-brow'd windows, flower-bound,</p>
+<p>Where I could wish wer my abode.</p>
+<p>I pass'd the ma&iuml;d avore the spring,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' shepherd by the thorn&egrave;n tree;</p>
+<p>An' he&auml;rd the merry dr&eacute;ver zing,</p>
+<p class="i2">But met noo kith or kin to me,</p>
+<p>Till I come down, vrom Meldon's crown</p>
+<p>To rufs o' brown, at Meldonley.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p363" id="p363"></a>
+
+<h4>THE HOLLOW WOAK.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The woaken tree, so hollow now,</p>
+<p class="i2">To souls ov other times wer sound,</p>
+<p>An' reach'd on ev'ry zide a bough</p>
+<p class="i2">Above their heads, a-gather'd round,</p>
+<p class="i8">But zome light veet</p>
+<p class="i8">That here did meet</p>
+<p>In friendship sweet, vor rest or ja&yuml;,</p>
+<p>Shall be a-miss'd another Ma&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My childern here, in pla&yuml;vul pride</p>
+<p class="i2">Did zit 'ithin his wooden walls,</p>
+<p>A-ment&egrave;n ste&auml;tely vo'k inside</p>
+<p class="i2">O' castle towers an' lofty halls.</p>
+<p class="i8">But now the vloor</p>
+<p class="i8">An' mossy door</p><a name="page364" id="page364"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;364]</span>
+<p>That woonce they wore would be too small</p>
+<p>To te&auml;ke em in, so big an' tall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The&auml;se year do show, wi' snow-white cloud,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' de&auml;sies in a sprinkled bed,</p>
+<p>An' green-bough birds a-whisl&egrave;n loud,</p>
+<p class="i2">The looks o' zummer days a-vled;</p>
+<p class="i8">An' grass do grow,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' men do mow,</p>
+<p>An' all do show the wold times' fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Wi' new things in the wold things' ple&auml;ce.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p364" id="p364"></a>
+
+<h4>CHILDERN'S CHILDERN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! if my ling'r&egrave;n life should run,</p>
+<p class="i2">Drough years a-reckoned ten by ten,</p>
+<p>Below the never-tir&egrave;n zun,</p>
+<p class="i2">Till be&auml;bes age&auml;n be wives an' men;</p>
+<p>An' stillest deafness should ha' bound</p>
+<p>My ears, at last, vrom ev'ry sound;</p>
+<p>Though still my eyes in that sweet light,</p>
+<p>Should have the zight o' sky an' ground:</p>
+<p class="i6">Would then my ste&auml;te</p>
+<p class="i6">In time so le&auml;te,</p>
+<p>Be ja&yuml; or pa&iuml;n, be pa&iuml;n or ja&yuml;?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When Zunday then, a-we&auml;n&egrave;n dim,</p>
+<p class="i2">As the&auml;se that now's a-clwos&egrave;n still,</p>
+<p>Mid lose the zun's down-zink&egrave;n rim,</p>
+<p class="i2">In light behind the vier-bound hill;</p>
+<p>An' when the bells' last peal's a-rung,</p>
+<p>An' I mid zee the wold an' young</p>
+<p>A-vlock&egrave;n by, but shoulden hear,</p>
+<p>However near, a voot or tongue:</p><a name="page365" id="page365"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;365]</span>
+<p class="i6">Mid zuch a zight,</p>
+<p class="i6">In that soft light</p>
+<p>Be ja&yuml; or pa&iuml;n, be pa&iuml;n or ja&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If I should zee among em all,</p>
+<p class="i2">In merry youth, a-glid&egrave;n by,</p>
+<p>My son's bwold son, a-grown man-tall,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or daughter's daughter, woman-high;</p>
+<p>An' she mid smile wi' your good fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Or she mid walk your comely pe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>But seem, although a-chatt&egrave;n loud,</p>
+<p>So dumb's a cloud, in that bright ple&auml;ce:</p>
+<p class="i6">Would youth so fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p class="i6">A-pass&egrave;n there,</p>
+<p>Be ja&yuml; or pa&iuml;n, be pa&iuml;n or ja&yuml;.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis seldom strangth or comeliness</p>
+<p class="i2">Do le&auml;ve us long. The house do show</p>
+<p>Men's sons wi' mwore, as they ha' less,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' daughters brisk, vor mothers slow.</p>
+<p>A dawn do clear the night's dim sky,</p>
+<p>Woone star do zink, an' woone goo high,</p>
+<p>An' liv&egrave;n gifts o' youth do vall,</p>
+<p>Vrom girt to small, but never die:</p>
+<p class="i6">An' should I view,</p>
+<p class="i6">What God mid do,</p>
+<p>Wi' ja&yuml; or pa&iuml;n, wi' pa&iuml;n or ja&yuml;?</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p365" id="p365"></a>
+
+<h4>THE RWOSE IN THE DARK.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In zummer, le&auml;te at even&egrave;n tide,</p>
+<p class="i2">I zot to spend a moonless hour</p>
+<p>'Ithin the window, wi' the zide</p>
+<p class="i2">A-bound wi' rwoses out in flow'r,</p>
+<p>Bezide the bow'r, vorsook o' birds,</p>
+<p>An' listen'd to my true-love's words.</p></div>
+<a name="page366" id="page366"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;366]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A-ris&egrave;n to her comely height,</p>
+<p class="i2">She push'd the swing&egrave;n ce&auml;sement round;</p>
+<p>And I could hear, beyond my zight,</p>
+<p class="i2">The win'-blow'd beech-tree softly sound,</p>
+<p>On higher ground, a-sway&egrave;n slow,</p>
+<p>On drough my happy hour below.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' tho' the darkness then did hide</p>
+<p class="i2">The dewy rwose's blush&egrave;n bloom,</p>
+<p>He still did cast sweet a&iuml;r inside</p>
+<p class="i2">To Je&auml;ne, a-chatt&egrave;n in the room;</p>
+<p>An' though the gloom did hide her fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Her words did bind me to the ple&auml;ce.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, while she, wi' runn&egrave;n tongue,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did talk unzeen 'ithin the hall,</p>
+<p>I thought her like the rwose that flung</p>
+<p class="i2">His sweetness vrom his darken'd ball,</p>
+<p>'Ithout the wall, an' sweet's the zight</p>
+<p>Ov her bright fe&auml;ce by morn&egrave;n light.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p366" id="p366"></a>
+
+<h4>COME.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Wull ye come in e&auml;rly Spring,</p>
+<p>Come at Easter, or in Ma&yuml;?</p>
+<p>Or when Whitsuntide mid bring</p>
+<p>Longer light to show your wa&yuml;?</p>
+<p>Wull ye come, if you be true,</p>
+<p>Vor to quicken love anew.</p>
+<p>Wull ye call in Spring or Fall?</p>
+<p>Come now soon by zun or moon?</p>
+<p class="i10">  Wull ye come?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come wi' va&iuml;ce to va&iuml;ce the while</p>
+<p>All their words be sweet to hear;</p>
+<p>Come that fe&auml;ce to fe&auml;ce mid smile,</p>
+<p>While their smiles do seem so dear;</p><a name="page367" id="page367"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;367]</span>
+<p class="i2">Come within the year to seek</p>
+<p class="i2">Woone you have sought woonce a week?</p>
+<p class="i2">Come while flow'rs be on the bow'rs.</p>
+<p class="i2">And the bird o' zong's a-he&auml;rd.</p>
+<p class="i10">    Wull ye come?</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ees come <i>to</i> ye, an' come <i>vor</i> ye, is my word,</p>
+<p class="i10">    I wull come.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p367" id="p367"></a>
+
+<h4>ZUMMER WINDS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Let me work, but mid noo tie</p>
+<p>Hold me vrom the oben sky,</p>
+<p>When zummer winds, in pla&yuml;some flight,</p>
+<p>Do blow on vields in noon-day light,</p>
+<p>Or rusl&egrave;n trees, in twilight night.</p>
+<p class="i6"> Sweet's a stroll,</p>
+<p>By flow'ry knowl, or blue-fe&auml;c&egrave;d pool</p>
+<p>That zummer win's do ruffle cool.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When the moon's broad light do vill</p>
+<p>Pla&iuml;ns, a-sheen&egrave;n down the hill;</p>
+<p>A-glitter&egrave;n on window glass,</p>
+<p>O then, while zummer win's do pass</p>
+<p>The rippled brook, an' swa&yuml;&egrave;n grass,</p>
+<p class="i6">Sweet's a walk,</p>
+<p>Where we do talk, wi' fe&auml;ces bright,</p>
+<p>In whispers in the peacevul night.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When the swa&yuml;&egrave;n men do mow</p>
+<p>Flow'ry grass, wi' zweep&egrave;n blow,</p>
+<p>In het a-most enough to dry</p>
+<p>The flat-spread clote-leaf that do lie</p>
+<p>Upon the stream a-steal&egrave;n by,</p>
+<p class="i6">Sweet's their rest,</p>
+<p>Upon the breast o' knap or mound</p>
+<p>Out where the goocoo's va&iuml;ce do sound.</p></div><a name="page368" id="page368"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;368]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Where the sleek-he&auml;ir'd ma&iuml;d do zit</p>
+<p>Out o' door to zew or knit,</p>
+<p>Below the elem where the spring</p>
+<p>'S a-runn&egrave;n, an' the road do bring</p>
+<p>The people by to hear her zing,</p>
+<p class="i6">On the green,</p>
+<p>Where she's a-zeen, an' she can zee,</p>
+<p>O ga&yuml; is she below the tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come, O zummer wind, an' bring</p>
+<p>Sounds o' birds as they do zing,</p>
+<p>An' bring the smell o' bloom&egrave;n ma&yuml;,</p>
+<p>An' bring the smell o' new-mow'd ha&yuml;;</p>
+<p>Come fan my fe&auml;ce as I do stra&yuml;,</p>
+<p class="i6">Fan the he&auml;ir</p>
+<p>O' Jessie fe&auml;ir; fan her cool,</p>
+<p>By the we&auml;ves o' stream or pool.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p368" id="p368"></a>
+
+<h4>THE NE&Auml;ME LETTERS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>When high-flown larks wer on the wing,</p>
+<p>A warm-a&iuml;r'd holiday in Spring,</p>
+<p>We stroll'd, 'ithout a ce&auml;re or frown,</p>
+<p class="i2">Up roun' the down at Meldonley;</p>
+<p>An' where the hawthorn-tree did stand</p>
+<p>Alwone, but still wi' mwore at hand,</p>
+<p>We zot wi' she&auml;des o' clouds on high</p>
+<p class="i2">A-flitt&egrave;n by, at Meldonley.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there, the while the tree did she&auml;de</p>
+<p>Their giggl&egrave;n heads, my knife's keen ble&auml;de</p>
+<p>Carved out, in turf avore my knee,</p>
+<p class="i2">J. L., *T. D., at Meldonley.</p><a name="page369" id="page369"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;369]</span>
+<p>'Twer Jessie Lee J. L. did me&auml;n,</p>
+<p>T. D. did stan' vor Thomas De&auml;ne;</p>
+<p>The "L" I scratch'd but slight, vor he</p>
+<p class="i2">Mid soon be D, at Meldonley.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the vields o' wheat did spread</p>
+<p>Vrom hedge to hedge in sheets o' red.</p>
+<p>An' bennets wer a-she&auml;k&egrave;n brown.</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon the down at Meldonley,</p>
+<p>We stroll'd age&auml;n along the hill,</p>
+<p>An' at the hawthorn-tree stood still,</p>
+<p>To zee J. L. vor Jessie Lee,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' my T. D., at Meldonley.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The grey-poll'd bennet-stems did hem</p>
+<p>Each half-hid letter's zunken rim,</p>
+<p>By le&auml;dy's-vingers that did spread</p>
+<p class="i2">In yollow red, at Meldonley.</p>
+<p>An' he&auml;rebells there wi' light blue bell</p>
+<p>Shook soundless on the letter L,</p>
+<p>To ment the bells when L vor Lee</p>
+<p class="i2">Become a D at Meldonley.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor Jessie, now my wife, do strive</p>
+<p>Wi' me in life, an' we do thrive;</p>
+<p>Two sleek-he&auml;ired me&auml;res do sprackly pull</p>
+<p class="i2">My waggon vull, at Meldonley;</p>
+<p>An' small-hoof'd sheep, in vleeces white,</p>
+<p>Wi' quickly-pank&egrave;n zides, do bite</p>
+<p>My thymy grass, a-mark'd vor me</p>
+<p class="i2">In black, T. D., at Meldonley.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+<a name="page370" id="page370"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;370]</span>
+
+<h4>THE NEW HOUSE A-GETT&Egrave;N WOLD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! when our wedded life begun,</p>
+<p class="i2">The&auml;se clean-wall'd house of ours wer new;</p>
+<p>Wi' thatch as yollor as the zun</p>
+<p class="i2">Avore the cloudless sky o' blue;</p>
+<p>The sky o' blue that then did bound</p>
+<p>The blue-hilled worold's flow'ry ground.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' we've a-vound it weather-brown'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">As Spring-tide blossoms oben'd white,</p>
+<p>Or Fall did shed, on zunburnt ground,</p>
+<p class="i2">Red apples from their leafy height:</p>
+<p>Their leafy height, that Winter soon</p>
+<p>Left leafless to the cool-fe&auml;ced moon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' ra&iuml;n-bred moss ha' sta&iuml;n'd wi' green</p>
+<p class="i2">The smooth-fe&auml;ced wall's white-morter'd streaks,</p>
+<p>The while our childern zot between</p>
+<p class="i2">Our seats avore the fle&auml;me's red peaks:</p>
+<p>The fle&auml;me's red peaks, till axan white</p>
+<p>Did quench em vor the long-sleep'd night.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The bloom that woonce did overspread</p>
+<p class="i2">Your rounded che&auml;k, as time went by,</p>
+<p>A-shrink&egrave;n to a patch o' red,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did fe&auml;de so soft's the even&egrave;n sky:</p>
+<p>The even&egrave;n sky, my faithful wife,</p>
+<p>O' days as fe&auml;ir's our happy life.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p370" id="p370"></a>
+
+<h4>ZUNDAY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>In zummer, when the she&auml;des do creep</p>
+<p class="i2">Below the Zunday steeple, round</p>
+<p>The mossy stwones, that love cut deep</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' ne&auml;mes that tongues noo mwore do sound,</p><a name="page371" id="page371"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;371]</span>
+<p>The le&auml;ne do lose the stalk&egrave;n team,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' dry-rimm'd waggon-wheels be still,</p>
+<p>An' hills do roll their down-shot stream</p>
+<p class="i2">Below the rest&egrave;n wheel at mill.</p>
+<p>O holy day, when tweil do ce&auml;se,</p>
+<p>Sweet day o' rest an' gre&auml;ce an' pe&auml;ce!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The eegrass, vor a while unwrung</p>
+<p class="i2">By hoof or shoe, 's a sheen&egrave;n bright,</p>
+<p>An' clover flowers be a-sprung</p>
+<p class="i2">On new-mow'd knaps in beds o' white,</p>
+<p>An' sweet wild rwoses, up among</p>
+<p class="i2">The hedge-row boughs, do yield their smells.</p>
+<p>To a&iuml;er that do bear along</p>
+<p class="i2">The loud-rung peals o' Zunday bells,</p>
+<p>Upon the day o' days the best,</p>
+<p>The day o' gre&auml;ce an' pe&auml;ce an' rest.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>By brightshod veet, in pe&auml;ir an' pe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' comely steps the road's a-took</p>
+<p>To church, an' work-free han's do be&auml;r</p>
+<p class="i2">Woone's walk&egrave;n stick or sister's book;</p>
+<p>An' there the bloom&egrave;n niece do come</p>
+<p class="i2">To zee her aunt, in all her best;</p>
+<p>Or married daughter do bring hwome</p>
+<p class="i2">Her vu'st sweet child upon her breast,</p>
+<p>As she do seek the holy ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>The day o' rest an' pe&auml;ce an' gre&auml;ce.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p371" id="p371"></a>
+
+<h4>THE PILLAR'D GE&Auml;TE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As I come by, zome years agoo,</p>
+<p>A-burnt below a sky o' blue,</p>
+<p>'Ithin the pillar'd ge&auml;te there zung</p>
+<p>A va&iuml;ce a-sound&egrave;n sweet an' young,</p><a name="page372" id="page372"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;372]</span>
+<p>That me&auml;de me veel awhile to zwim</p>
+<p>In we&auml;ves o' ja&yuml; to hear its hymn;</p>
+<p>Vor all the zinger, angel-bright,</p>
+<p>Wer then a-hidden vrom my zight,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' I wer then too low</p>
+<p>To seek a me&auml;te to match my ste&auml;te</p>
+<p>'Ithin the lofty-pillar'd ge&auml;te,</p>
+<p>Wi' stwon&egrave;n balls upon the walls:</p>
+<p class="i4">Oh, no! my heart, no, no.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Another time as I come by</p>
+<p>The house, below a dark-blue sky,</p>
+<p>The pillar'd ge&auml;te wer oben wide,</p>
+<p>An' who should be a-show'd inside,</p>
+<p>But she, the comely ma&iuml;d whose hymn</p>
+<p>Woonce me&auml;de my giddy bra&iuml;n to zwim,</p>
+<p>A-zitt&egrave;n in the she&auml;de to zew,</p>
+<p>A-clad in robes as white as snow.</p>
+<p class="i4">What then? could I so low</p>
+<p>Look out a me&auml;te ov higher ste&auml;te</p>
+<p>So ga&yuml; 'ithin a pillar'd ge&auml;te,</p>
+<p>Wi' high walls round the smooth-mow'd ground?</p>
+<p class="i4">Oh, no! my heart, no, no.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Long years stole by, a-glid&egrave;n slow,</p>
+<p>Wi' winter cwold an' zummer glow,</p>
+<p>An' she wer then a widow, clad</p>
+<p>In grey; but comely, though so sad;</p>
+<p>Her husband, heartless to his bride,</p>
+<p>Spent all her store an' wealth, an' died,</p>
+<p>Though she noo mwore could now reja&iuml;ce,</p>
+<p>Yet sweet did sound her zongless va&iuml;ce.</p>
+<p class="i4">But had she, in her woe,</p>
+<p>The higher ste&auml;te she had o' le&auml;te</p>
+<p>'Ithin the lofty pillar'd ge&auml;te,</p>
+<p>Wi' stwon&egrave;n balls upon the walls?</p>
+<p class="i4">Oh, no! my heart, no, no.</p></div>
+<a name="page373" id="page373"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;373]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But while she vell, my Me&auml;ker's gre&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Led me to te&auml;ke a higher ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' lighten'd up my mind wi' lore,</p>
+<p>An' bless'd me wi' a worldly store;</p>
+<p>But still noo winsome fe&auml;ce or va&iuml;ce,</p>
+<p>Had ever been my wedded cha&iuml;ce;</p>
+<p>An' then I thought, why do I mwope</p>
+<p>Alwone without a ja&yuml; or hope?</p>
+<p class="i4">Would she still think me low?</p>
+<p>Or scorn a me&auml;te, in my fe&auml;ir ste&auml;te,</p>
+<p>In here 'ithin a pillar'd ge&auml;te,</p>
+<p>A happy ple&auml;ce wi' her kind fe&auml;ce?</p>
+<p class="i4">Oh, no! my hope, no, no.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I don't stand out 'tis only fe&auml;te</p>
+<p>Do gi'e to each his wedded me&auml;te;</p>
+<p>But eet there's woone above the rest,</p>
+<p>That every soul can like the best.</p>
+<p>An' my wold love's a-kindled new,</p>
+<p>An' my wold dream's a-come out true;</p>
+<p>But while I had noo soul to she&auml;re</p>
+<p>My good an' ill, an' j&auml;y an ce&auml;re,</p>
+<p class="i4">Should I have bliss below,</p>
+<p>In gle&auml;m&egrave;n ple&auml;te an' lofty ste&auml;te</p>
+<p>'Ithin the lofty pillar'd ge&auml;te,</p>
+<p>Wi' fe&auml;irest flow'rs, an' ponds an' tow'rs?</p>
+<p class="i4">Oh, no! my heart, no, no.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p373" id="p373"></a>
+
+<h4>ZUMMER STREAM.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! then the grassy-me&auml;ded Ma&yuml;</p>
+<p>Did warm the pass&egrave;n year, an' gleam</p>
+<p>Upon the yellow-grounded stream,</p>
+<p>That still by beech-tree she&auml;des do stra&yuml;.</p><a name="page374" id="page374"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;374]</span>
+<p>The light o' we&auml;ves, a-runn&egrave;n there,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did pla&yuml; on leaves up over head,</p>
+<p>An' vishes sce&auml;ly zides did gle&auml;re,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-dart&egrave;n on the shallow bed,</p>
+<p>An' like the stream a-slid&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>My zun out-measur'd time's agone.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There by the path, in grass knee-high,</p>
+<p>Wer buttervlees in giddy flight,</p>
+<p>All white above the de&auml;isies white,</p>
+<p>Or blue below the deep blue sky.</p>
+<p>Then glow&egrave;n warm wer ev'ry brow,</p>
+<p class="i2">O' ma&iuml;d, or man, in zummer het,</p>
+<p>An' warm did glow the che&auml;ks I met</p>
+<p class="i2">That time, noo mwore to meet em now.</p>
+<p>As brooks, a-slid&egrave;n on their bed,</p>
+<p>My season-measur'd time's a-vled.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vrom yonder window, in the thatch,</p>
+<p>Did sound the ma&iuml;dens' merry words,</p>
+<p>As I did stand, by zing&egrave;n birds,</p>
+<p>Bezide the elem-she&auml;ded hatch.</p>
+<p>'Tis good to come back to the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">Back to the time, to goo noo mwore;</p>
+<p>'Tis good to meet the younger fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2">A-ment&egrave;n others here avore.</p>
+<p>As streams do glide by green mead-grass,</p>
+<p>My zummer-brighten'd years do pass.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p374" id="p374"></a>
+
+<h4>LINDA DE&Auml;NE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The bright-tunn'd house, a-ris&egrave;n proud,</p>
+<p>Stood high avore a zummer cloud,</p>
+<p>An' windy she&auml;des o' tow'rs did vall</p>
+<p>Upon the many-window'd wall;</p><a name="page375" id="page375"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;375]</span>
+<p>An' on the grassy terrace, bright</p>
+<p>Wi' white-bloom'd zummer's dea&iuml;sy beds,</p>
+<p>An' snow-white lilies nodd&egrave;n heads,</p>
+<p>Sweet Linda De&auml;ne did walk in white;</p>
+<p>But ah! avore too high a door,</p>
+<p>Wer Linda De&auml;ne ov Ellendon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When sparkl&egrave;n brooks an' grassy ground,</p>
+<p>By keen-a&iuml;r'd Winter's vrost wer bound,</p>
+<p>An' star-bright snow did streak the forms</p>
+<p>O' be&auml;re-lim'd trees in darksome storms,</p>
+<p>Sweet Linda De&auml;ne did lightly glide,</p>
+<p>Wi' snow-white robe an' rwosy fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Upon the smooth-vloor'd hall, to tre&auml;ce</p>
+<p>The merry dance o' Chris'mas tide;</p>
+<p>But oh! not mine be balls so fine</p>
+<p>As Linda De&auml;ne's at Ellendon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Sweet Linda De&auml;ne do match the skies</p>
+<p>Wi' sheen&egrave;n blue o' glisn&egrave;n eyes,</p>
+<p>An' fea&iuml;rest blossoms do but show</p>
+<p>Her forehead's white, an' fe&auml;ce's glow;</p>
+<p>But there's a winsome ja&yuml; above,</p>
+<p>The brightest hues ov e'th an' skies.</p>
+<p>The dearest zight o' many eyes,</p>
+<p>Would be the smile o' Linda's love;</p>
+<p>But high above my lowly love</p>
+<p>Is Linda De&auml;ne ov Ellendon.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<br /><hr class="short" /><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page376" id="page376"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;376]</span>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<h3>COME AND ZEE US IN THE ZUMMER.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>John; William; William's Bwoy; and William's Ma&iuml;d
+at Fe&auml;ir</i>.</h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo here be your childern, a-she&auml;r&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Your fe&auml;ir-day, an' each wi' a fe&auml;ir&egrave;n.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>WILLIAM.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, well, there's noo peace 'ithout com&egrave;n</p>
+<p>To stann&egrave;n an' show, in the zummer.</p>
+  </div></div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>An' how is your Je&auml;ne? still as merry</p>
+<p>As ever, wi' che&auml;ks lik' a cherry?</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>WILLIAM.</h5>
+
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Still merry, but beauty's as fe&auml;desome</p>
+<p>'S the ra&iuml;n's glow&egrave;n bow in the zummer.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Well now, I do hope we shall vind ye</p>
+<p>Come soon, wi' your childern behind ye,</p>
+<p>To Stowe, while o' bwoth zides o' hedges,</p>
+<p>The zunsheen do glow in the zummer.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>WILLIAM.</h5>
+
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, aye, when the mow&egrave;n is over,</p>
+<p>An' ee-grass do whiten wi' clover.</p>
+<p>A man's a-tired out, vor much walken,</p>
+<p>The while he do mow in the zummer.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br />
+<a name="page377" id="page377"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;377]</span>
+
+<h5>WILLIAM'S BWOY.</h5>
+
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>I'll goo, an' we'll zet up a wicket,</p>
+<p>An' have a good inn&egrave;ns at cricket;</p>
+<p>An' te&auml;ke a good plounce in the water.</p>
+<p>Where clote-leaves do grow in the zummer.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>WILLIAM'S MAID.</h5>
+
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>I'll goo, an' we'll play "Thread the needle"</p>
+<p>Or "Hunt&egrave;n the slipper," or wheedle</p>
+<p>Young Jemmy to fiddle, an' reely</p>
+<p>So brisk to an' fro in the zummer.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+
+<h5>JOHN.</h5>
+
+  <div class="poem">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>An' Je&auml;ne. Mind you don't come 'ithout her,</p>
+<p>My wife is a-think&egrave;n about her;</p>
+<p>At our house she'll find she's as welcome</p>
+<p>'S the rwose that do blow in the zummer.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p377" id="p377"></a>
+
+<h4>LINDENORE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>At Lindenore upon the steep,</p>
+<p class="i2">Bezide the trees a-reach&egrave;n high,</p>
+<p>The while their lower limbs do zweep</p>
+<p class="i2">The river-stream a-flow&egrave;n by;</p>
+<p>By grægle bells in beds o' blue,</p>
+<p>Below the tree-stems in the lew,</p>
+<p>Calm a&iuml;r do vind the rwose-bound door,</p>
+<p>Ov Ellen Dare o' Lindenore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there noo foam do hiss avore</p>
+<p class="i2">Swift bwoats, wi' water-plow&egrave;n keels,</p>
+<p>An' there noo broad high-road's a-wore</p>
+<p class="i2">By vur-brought trav'lers' crackl&egrave;n wheels;</p><a name="page378" id="page378"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;378]</span>
+<p>Noo crowd's a-pass&egrave;n to and fro,</p>
+<p>Upon the bridge's high-sprung bow:</p>
+<p>An' vew but I do seek the door</p>
+<p>Ov Ellen Dare o' Lindenore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor there the town, wi' zun-bright walls,</p>
+<p class="i2">Do sheen vur off, by hills o' grey,</p>
+<p>An' town-vo'k ha' but seldom calls</p>
+<p class="i2">O' business there, from day to day:</p>
+<p>But Ellen didden le&auml;ve her ruf</p>
+<p>To be admir'd, an' that's enough&mdash;</p>
+<p>Vor I've a-vound 'ithin her door,</p>
+<p>Fe&auml;ir Ellen Dare o' Lindenore.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p378" id="p378"></a>
+
+<h4>ME'TH BELOW THE TREE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O when the&auml;se elems' crooked boughs,</p>
+<p>A'most too thin to she&auml;de the cows,</p>
+<p>Did slowly swing above the grass</p>
+<p>As winds o' Spring did softly pass,</p>
+<p>An' zunlight show'd the shift&egrave;n she&auml;de,</p>
+<p>While youthful me'th wi' laughter loud,</p>
+<p>Did twist his lim's among the crowd</p>
+<p>Down there below; up there above</p>
+<p>Wer bright-ey'd me'th below the tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Down there the merry vo'k did vill</p>
+<p>The stwon&egrave;n doorway, now so still;</p>
+<p>An' zome did joke, wi' ce&auml;sement wide,</p>
+<p>Wi' other vo'k a-stood outside,</p>
+<p>Wi' words that head by head did heed.</p>
+<p>Below blue sky an' blue-smok'd tun,</p>
+<p>'Twer ja&yuml; to zee an' hear their fun,</p>
+<p>But sweeter ja&yuml; up here above</p>
+<p>Wi' bright-ey'd me'th below the tree.</p></div>
+<a name="page379" id="page379"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;379]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now unknown veet do be&auml;t the vloor,</p>
+<p>An' unknown han's do shut the door,</p>
+<p>An' unknown men do ride abrode,</p>
+<p>An' hwome age&auml;n on thik wold road,</p>
+<p>Drough ge&auml;tes all now a-hung anew.</p>
+<p>Noo mind but mine age&auml;n can call</p>
+<p>Wold fe&auml;ces back around the wall,</p>
+<p>Down there below, or here above,</p>
+<p>Wi' bright-ey'd me'th below the tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Aye, pride mid seek the crowded ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>To show his head an' frown&egrave;n fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' pleasure vlee, wi' goold in hand,</p>
+<p>Vor zights to zee vrom land to land,</p>
+<p>Where winds do blow on seas o' blue:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Noo wealth wer mine to travel wide</p>
+<p>Vor ja&yuml;, wi' Pleasure or wi' Pride:</p>
+<p>My happiness wer here above</p>
+<p>The fe&auml;st, wi' me'th below the tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The wild rwose now do hang in zight,</p>
+<p>To morn&egrave;n zun an' even&egrave;n light,</p>
+<p>The bird do whissle in the gloom,</p>
+<p>Avore the thissle out in bloom,</p>
+<p>But here alwone the tree do le&auml;n.</p>
+<p>The twig that woonce did whiver there</p>
+<p>Is now a limb a-wither'd be&auml;re:</p>
+<p>Zoo I do miss the she&auml;de above</p>
+<p>My head, an' me'th below the tree.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p379" id="p379"></a>
+
+<h4>TREAT WELL YOUR WIFE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No, no, good Me&auml;ster Collins cried,</p>
+<p>Why you've a good wife at your zide;</p>
+<p>Zoo do believe the heart is true</p>
+<p>That gi'ed up all bezide vor you,</p><a name="page380" id="page380"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;380]</span>
+<p>An' still behe&auml;ve as you begun</p>
+<p>To seek the love that you've a-won</p>
+<p class="i4">When woonce in dewy June,</p>
+<p>In hours o' hope soft eyes did flash,</p>
+<p>Each bright below his she&auml;dy lash,</p>
+<p class="i4">A-glisn&egrave;n to the moon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Think how her girlhood met noo ce&auml;re</p>
+<p>To pe&auml;le the bloom her fe&auml;ce did we&auml;r,</p>
+<p>An' how her glossy temple prest</p>
+<p>Her pillow down, in still-fe&auml;ced rest,</p>
+<p>While she&auml;des o' window bars did vall</p>
+<p>In moonlight on the gloomy wall,</p>
+<p class="i4">In cool-a&iuml;r'd nights o' June;</p>
+<p>The while her lids, wi' bend&egrave;n stre&auml;ks</p>
+<p>O' lashes, met above her che&auml;ks,</p>
+<p class="i4">A-bloom&egrave;n to the moon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Think how she left her childhood's ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' only sister's long-known fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' brother's jokes so much a-miss'd,</p>
+<p>An' mother's che&auml;k, the last a-kiss'd;</p>
+<p>An' how she lighted down avore</p>
+<p>Her new abode, a husband's door,</p>
+<p class="i4">Your wedd&egrave;n night in June;</p>
+<p>Wi' heart that be&auml;t wi' hope an' fear,</p>
+<p>While on each eye-lash hung a tear,</p>
+<p class="i4">A-glisn&egrave;n to the moon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Think how her father zot all dum',</p>
+<p>A-think&egrave;n on her, back at hwome,</p>
+<p>The while grey axan gather'd thick,</p>
+<p>On dy&egrave;n embers, on the brick;</p>
+<p>An' how her mother look'd abrode,</p>
+<p>Drough window, down the moon-bright road,</p><a name="page381" id="page381"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;381]</span>
+<p class="i4">Thik cloudless night o' June,</p>
+<p>Wi' tears upon her lashes big</p>
+<p>As ra&iuml;n-drops on a slender twig,</p>
+<p class="i4">A-glisn&egrave;n to the moon.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo don't zit thoughtless at your cup</p>
+<p>An' keep your wife a-w&auml;it&egrave;n up,</p>
+<p>The while the clock's a-tick&egrave;n slow</p>
+<p>The chilly hours o' vrost an' snow,</p>
+<p>Until the zink&egrave;n candle's light</p>
+<p>Is out avore her drowsy sight,</p>
+<p class="i4">A-dimm'd wi' grief too soon;</p>
+<p>A-le&auml;v&egrave;n there alwone to murn</p>
+<p>The fe&auml;d&egrave;n che&auml;k that woonce did burn,</p>
+<p class="i4">A-bloom&egrave;n to the moon.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p381" id="p381"></a>
+
+<h4>THE CHILD AN' THE MOWERS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O, aye! they had woone child bezide,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' a finer your eyes never met,</p>
+<p>'Twer a dear little fellow that died</p>
+<p class="i2">In the zummer that come wi' such het;</p>
+<p>By the mowers, too thoughtless in fun,</p>
+<p class="i2">He wer then a-zent off vrom our eyes,</p>
+<p>Vrom the light ov the dew-dry&egrave;n zun,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye! vrom days under blue-hollow'd skies.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He went out to the mowers in me&auml;d,</p>
+<p class="i2">When the zun wer a-rose to his height,</p>
+<p>An' the men wer a-swing&egrave;n the sne&auml;d,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' their e&auml;rms in white sleeves, left an' right;</p>
+<p>An' out there, as they rested at noon,</p>
+<p class="i2">O! they drench'd en vrom e&auml;le-horns too deep,</p>
+<p>Till his thoughts wer a-drown'd in a swoon;</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye! his life wer a-smother'd in sleep.</p></div>
+<a name="page382" id="page382"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;382]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then they laid en there-right on the ground,</p>
+<p class="i2">On a grass-heap, a-zweltr&egrave;n wi' het,</p>
+<p>Wi' his he&auml;ir all a-wetted around</p>
+<p class="i2">His young fe&auml;ce, wi' the big drops o' zweat;</p>
+<p>In his little left palm he'd a-zet,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' his right hand, his vore-vinger's tip,</p>
+<p>As for zome'hat he woulden vorget,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye! zome thought that he woulden let slip.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then they took en in hwome to his bed,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' he rose vrom his pillow noo mwore,</p>
+<p>Vor the curls on his sleek little head</p>
+<p class="i2">To be blown by the wind out o' door.</p>
+<p>Vor he died while the h&auml;y russled grey</p>
+<p class="i2">On the staddle so le&auml;tely begun:</p>
+<p>Lik' the mown-grass a-dried by the day,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye! the zwath-flow'r's a-killed by the zun.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p382" id="p382"></a>
+
+<h4>THE LOVE CHILD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Where the bridge out at Woodley did stride,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' his wide arches' cool she&auml;ded bow,</p>
+<p>Up above the clear brook that did slide</p>
+<p class="i2">By the popples, befoam'd white as snow:</p>
+<p>As the gilcups did quiver among</p>
+<p class="i2">The white de&auml;isies, a-spread in a sheet.</p>
+<p>There a quick-tripp&egrave;n ma&iuml;d come along,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye, a girl wi' her light-stepp&egrave;n veet.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' she cried "I do pra&yuml;, is the road</p>
+<p class="i2">Out to Lincham on here, by the me&auml;d?"</p>
+<p>An' "oh! ees," I me&auml;de answer, an' show'd</p>
+<p class="i2">Her the way it would turn an' would le&auml;d:</p>
+<p>"Goo along by the beech in the nook,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where the childern do play in the cool,</p>
+<p>To the stepp&egrave;n stwones over the brook,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye, the grey blocks o' rock at the pool."</p></div>
+<a name="page383" id="page383"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;383]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Then you don't seem a-born an' a-bred,"</p>
+<p class="i2">I spoke up, "at a place here about;"</p>
+<p>An' she answer'd wi' che&auml;ks up so red</p>
+<p class="i2">As a pi'ny but le&auml;te a-come out,</p>
+<p>"No, I liv'd wi' my uncle that died</p>
+<p class="i2">Back in E&auml;pril, an' now I'm a-come</p>
+<p>Here to Ham, to my mother, to bide,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye, to her house to vind a new hwome."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza"><a name="p383b" id="p383b"></a>
+<p>I'm ashe&auml;med that I wanted to know</p>
+<p class="i2">Any mwore of her childhood or life,</p>
+<p>But then, why should so fe&auml;ir a child grow</p>
+<p class="i2">Where noo father did bide wi' his wife;</p>
+<p>Then wi' blushes of zunris&egrave;n morn,</p>
+<p class="i2">She replied "that it midden be known,</p>
+<p>"Oh! they zent me away to be born,&mdash;<a href="#p383a"><sup style="font-size: 0.8em;">*</sup></a></p>
+<p class="i2">Aye, they hid me when zome would be shown."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! it me&auml;de me a'most teary-ey'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' I vound I a'most could ha' groan'd&mdash;</p>
+<p>What! so winn&egrave;n, an' still cast a-zide&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">What! so lovely, an' not to be own'd;</p>
+<p>Oh! a God-gift a-treated wi' scorn,</p>
+<p class="i2">Oh! a child that a squier should own;</p>
+<p>An' to zend her away to be born!&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye, to hide her where others be shown!</p></div>
+<a name="p383a" id="p383a"></a>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;"><a href="#p383b"><sup>*</sup></a> Words once spoken to the writer.</span></p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p383" id="p383"></a>
+
+<h4>HAWTHORN DOWN.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>All up the down's cool brow</p>
+<p class="i2">I work'd in noontide's gle&auml;re,</p>
+<p>On where the slow-wheel'd plow</p>
+<p class="i2">'D a-wore the grass half bare.</p><a name="page384" id="page384"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;384]</span>
+<p>An' gil'cups quiver'd quick,</p>
+<p class="i2">As a&iuml;r did pass,</p>
+<p>An' de&auml;isies huddled thick</p>
+<p class="i2">Among the grass.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The while my e&auml;rms did swing</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' work I had on hand,</p>
+<p>The quick-wing'd lark did zing</p>
+<p class="i2">Above the green-tree'd land,</p>
+<p>An' bwoys below me chafed</p>
+<p class="i2">The dog vor fun,</p>
+<p>An' he, vor all they laef'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did me&auml;ke em run.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The south zide o' the hill,</p>
+<p class="i2">My own tun-smoke rose blue,&mdash;</p>
+<p>In North Coomb, near the mill,</p>
+<p class="i2">My mother's wer in view&mdash;</p>
+<p>Where woonce her vier vor all</p>
+<p class="i2">Ov us did burn,</p>
+<p>As I have childern small</p>
+<p class="i2">Round mine in turn.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo I still wull cheer</p>
+<p class="i2">Her life wi' my small store,</p>
+<p>As she do drop a tear</p>
+<p class="i2">Bezide her lwonesome door.</p>
+<p>The love that I do owe</p>
+<p class="i2">Her ruf, I'll pa&yuml;,</p>
+<p>An' then zit down below</p>
+<p class="i2">My own wi' ja&yuml;.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div>
+
+  <br /><br />
+
+<a name="page385" id="page385"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;385]</span>
+
+<h4>OBEN VIELDS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, you mid keep the town an' street,</p>
+<p>Wi' grassless stwones to be&auml;t your veet,</p>
+<p>An' zunless windows where your brows</p>
+<p>Be never cooled by swa&yuml;&egrave;n boughs;</p>
+<p>An' let me end, as I begun,</p>
+<p>My days in oben a&iuml;r an' zun,</p>
+<p>Where zummer win's a-blow&egrave;n sweet,</p>
+<p>Wi' blooth o' trees as white's a sheet;</p>
+<p>Or swa&yuml;&egrave;n boughs, a-bend&egrave;n low</p>
+<p>Wi' rip'n&egrave;n apples in a row,</p>
+<p>An' we a-ris&egrave;n rathe do meet</p>
+<p>The bright'n&egrave;n dawn wi' dewy veet,</p>
+<p>An' le&auml;ve, at night, the vootless groves,</p>
+<p>To rest 'ithin our thatchen oves.</p>
+<p>An' here our childern still do bruise</p>
+<p>The de&auml;isy buds wi' tiny shoes,</p>
+<p>As we did meet avore em, free</p>
+<p>Vrom ce&auml;re, in play below the tree.</p>
+<p>An' there in me'th their lively eyes</p>
+<p>Do glissen to the zunny skies,</p>
+<p>As a&iuml;r do blow, wi' le&auml;zy pe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>To cool, in she&auml;de, their burn&egrave;n fe&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>Where leaves o' spread&egrave;n docks do hide</p>
+<p>The zawpit's timber-lwoaded zide,</p>
+<p>An' trees do lie, wi' scraggy limbs,</p>
+<p>Among the de&auml;isy's crimson rims.</p>
+<p>An' they, so proud, wi' e&auml;rms a-spread</p>
+<p>To keep their balance good, do tread</p>
+<p>Wi' ce&auml;reful steps o' tiny zoles</p>
+<p>The narrow zides o' trees an' poles.</p>
+<p>An' zoo I'll le&auml;ve vor your light veet</p>
+<p>The pe&auml;vement o' the zunless street,</p>
+<p>While I do end, as I begun,</p>
+<p>My days in oben a&iuml;r an' zun.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page386" id="page386"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;386]</span>
+
+<h4>WHAT JOHN WER A-TELL&Egrave;N HIS MIS'ESS <br />OUT IN THE CORN GROUND.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! mam! you woonce come here the while</p>
+<p class="i2">The zun, long years agoo, did shed</p>
+<p>His het upon the wheat in hile,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' yollow hau'm an' ears o' red,</p>
+<p>Wi' little shoes too thin vor walks</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon the scratch&egrave;n stubble-stalks;</p>
+<p>You hardly reach'd wi' glossy head,</p>
+<p class="i2">The vore wheel's top o' dousty red.</p>
+<p>How time's a-vled! How years do vlee!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there you went an' zot inzide</p>
+<p class="i2">A hile, in a&iuml;r a-stream&egrave;n cool,</p>
+<p>As if 'ithin a room, vull wide</p>
+<p class="i2">An' high, you zot to guide an' rule.</p>
+<p>You le&auml;z'd about the stubbly land,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' soon vill'd up your small left hand</p>
+<p>Wi' ruddy ears your right hand vound,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' tra&iuml;l'd the stalks along the ground.</p>
+<p>How time's a-gone! How years do goo!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then in the waggon you did te&auml;ke</p>
+<p class="i2">A ride, an' as the wheels vell down</p>
+<p>Vrom ridge to vurrow, they did she&auml;ke</p>
+<p class="i2">On your small head your poppy crown,</p>
+<p>An' now your little ma&iuml;d, a dear,</p>
+<p class="i2">Your childhood's very daps, is here,</p>
+<p>Zoo let her sta&yuml;, that her young fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2">Mid put a former year in ple&auml;ce.</p>
+<p>How time do run! How years do roll!</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page387" id="page387"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;387]</span>
+
+<h4>SHE&Auml;DES.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come here an' zit a while below</p>
+<p class="i2">The&auml;se tower, grey and ivy-bound,</p>
+<p>In she&auml;de, the while the zun do glow</p>
+<p class="i2">So hot upon the flow'ry ground;</p>
+<p class="i6">An' winds in flight,</p>
+<p class="i6">Do briskly smite</p>
+<p>The blossoms bright, upon the gle&auml;de,</p>
+<p>But never stir the sleep&egrave;n she&auml;de.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As when you stood upon the brink</p>
+<p class="i2">O' yonder brook, wi' back-zunn'd head,</p>
+<p>Your zunny-grounded she&auml;de did zink</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon the water's grav'lly bed,</p>
+<p class="i6">Where we&auml;ves could zweep</p>
+<p class="i6">Away, or keep,</p>
+<p>The gravel heap that they'd a-me&auml;de,</p>
+<p>But never wash away the she&auml;de.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo, when you can woonce vulvil</p>
+<p class="i2">What's fe&auml;ir, a-tried by heaven's light,</p>
+<p>Why never fear that evil will</p>
+<p class="i2">Can me&auml;ke a wrong o' your good right.</p>
+<p class="i6">The right wull stand,</p>
+<p class="i6">Vor all man's hand,</p>
+<p>Till streams on zand, an' wind in gle&auml;des,</p>
+<p>Can zweep awa&yuml; the zuncast she&auml;des.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p387" id="p387"></a>
+
+<h4>TIMES O' YEAR.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Here did sw&auml;y the eltrot flow'rs,</p>
+<p>When the hours o' night wer vew,</p>
+<p>An' the zun, wi' e&auml;rly beams</p><a name="page388" id="page388"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;388]</span>
+<p>Brighten'd streams, an' dried the dew,</p>
+<p>An' the goocoo there did greet</p>
+<p>Passers by wi' dousty veet.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There the milkma&iuml;d hung her brow</p>
+<p>By the cow, a-sheen&egrave;n red;</p>
+<p>An' the dog, wi' upward looks,</p>
+<p>Watch'd the rooks above his head,</p>
+<p>An' the brook, vrom bow to bow,</p>
+<p>Here went swift, an' there wer slow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now the cwolder-blow&egrave;n blast,</p>
+<p>Here do cast vrom elems' heads</p>
+<p>Fe&auml;ded leaves, a-whirl&egrave;n round,</p>
+<p>Down to ground, in yollow beds,</p>
+<p>Rusl&egrave;n under milkers' shoes,</p>
+<p>When the day do dry the dews.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Soon shall grass, a-vrosted bright,</p>
+<p>Glisten white instead o' green,</p>
+<p>An' the wind shall smite the cows,</p>
+<p>Where the boughs be now their screen.</p>
+<p>Things do change as years do vlee;</p>
+<p>What ha' years in store vor me?</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<hr /><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p388" id="p388"></a>
+
+<h2><span style="font-family: 'old english text', serif;">Eclogue.</span></h2><br />
+
+<h3>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h3>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h4><i>Racket&egrave;n Joe; his Sister; his Cousin Fanny; and the Dog.</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="shorter" />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Heigh! heigh! here. Who's about?</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+<a name="page389" id="page389"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;389]</span>
+
+<h5>HIS SISTER.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! lauk! Here's Joe, a rant&egrave;n lout,</p>
+<p>A-me&auml;k&egrave;n his wild randy-rout.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Heigh! Fanny! How d'ye do? (<i>slaps her.</i>)</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! fie; why all the woo'se vor you</p>
+<p>A-slapp&egrave;n o' me, black an' blue,</p>
+<p>My back!</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>HIS SISTER.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10">A whack! you loose-e&auml;rm'd chap,</p>
+<p>To gi'e your cousin sich a slap!</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I'll pull the he&auml;ir o'n, I do vow;</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>HIS SISTER.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I'll pull the ears o'n. There.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>THE DOG.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i20">                     Wowh! wow!</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A-com&egrave;n up the drong,</p>
+<p>How he did smack his leather thong,</p>
+<p>A-zing&egrave;n, as he thought, a zong;</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>HIS SISTER.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there the pigs did scote</p>
+<p>Azide, in fright, wi' squeak&egrave;n droat,</p>
+<p>Wi' geese a pitch&egrave;n up a note.</p>
+<p>Look there.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i16">   His chair!</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br />
+<a name="page390" id="page390"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;390]</span>
+
+<h5>HIS SISTER.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i20">                He thump'd en down,</p>
+<p>As if he'd het en into ground.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Heigh! heigh! Look here! the vier is out.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>HIS SISTER.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How he do knock the tongs about!</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now the&auml;re's his whip-nob, plum</p>
+<p>Upon the te&auml;ble vor a drum;</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>HIS SISTER.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there's a dent so big's your thumb.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My hat's awore so quaer.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>HIS SISTER.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis quaer enough, but not wi' wear;</p>
+<p>But dabs an' dashes he do bear.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The zow!</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>HIS SISTER.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10"> What now?</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i22">         She's in the plot.</p>
+<p>A-rout&egrave;n up the flower knot.</p>
+<p>Ho! &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Towzer! &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Here, rout out the zow,</p>
+<p>Heigh! &nbsp;&nbsp;here, &nbsp;&nbsp;hie at her. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Tiss!</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>THE DOG.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i22">                     Wowh! wow!</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+<h5>HIS SISTER.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How  he  do rant and roar,</p>
+<p>An' stump an' stamp about the vloor,</p>
+<p>An' swing, an' slap, an' slam the door!</p><a name="page391" id="page391"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;391]</span>
+<p>He don't put down a thing,</p>
+<p>But he do dab, an' dash, an' ding</p>
+<p>It down, till all the house do ring.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>RACKET&Egrave;N JOE.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She's out.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">  Noo doubt.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>HIS SISTER.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i20">              Athirt the bank,</p>
+<p>Look! how the dog an' he do pank.</p>
+   </div>
+   </div><br />
+
+<h5>FANNY.</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Sta&yuml; out, an' heed her now an' then,</p>
+<p>To zee she don't come in age&auml;n.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p391" id="p391"></a>
+
+<h4>ZUMMER AN' WINTER.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When I led by zummer streams</p>
+<p class="i2">The pride o' Lea, as na&iuml;ghbours thought her,</p>
+<p>While the zun, wi' even&egrave;n beams,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did cast our she&auml;des athirt the water;</p>
+<p class="i8">Winds a-blow&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i8">Streams a-flow&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i8">Skies a-glow&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Tokens ov my ja&yuml; zoo fleet&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Heighten'd it, that happy meet&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then, when ma&iuml;d an' man took ple&auml;ces,</p>
+<p class="i2">Ga&yuml; in winter's Chris'mas dances,</p>
+<p>Show&egrave;n in their merry fe&auml;ces</p>
+<p class="i2">Kindly smiles an' glisn&egrave;n glances;</p>
+<p class="i8">Stars a-wink&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i8">Day a-shrink&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i8">She&auml;des a-zink&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Brought anew the happy meet&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>That did meake the night too fleet&egrave;n.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page392" id="page392"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;392]</span>
+
+<h4>TO ME.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>At night, as drough the me&auml;d I took my wa&yuml;,</p>
+<p>In a&iuml;r a-sweeten'd by the new-me&auml;de ha&yuml;,</p>
+<p>A stream a-vall&egrave;n down a rock did sound,</p>
+<p>Though out o' zight wer foam an' stwone to me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Behind the knap, above the gloomy copse,</p>
+<p>The wind did russle in the trees' high tops,</p>
+<p>Though even&egrave;n darkness, an' the ris&egrave;n hill,</p>
+<p>Kept all the quiv'r&egrave;n leaves unshown to me,</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Within the copse, below the zunless sky,</p>
+<p>I he&auml;rd a night&egrave;nge&auml;le, a-warbl&egrave;n high</p>
+<p>Her lwoansome zong, a-hidden vrom my zight,</p>
+<p>An' show&egrave;n noth&egrave;n but her mwoan to me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' by a house, where rwoses hung avore</p>
+<p>The thatch-brow'd window, an' the oben door,</p>
+<p>I he&auml;rd the merry words, an' hearty laugh</p>
+<p>O' zome fe&auml;ir maid, as eet unknown to me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>High over head the white-rimm'd clouds went on,</p>
+<p>Wi' woone a-com&egrave;n up, vor woone a-gone;</p>
+<p>An' fe&auml;ir they floated in their sky-back'd flight,</p>
+<p>But still they never me&auml;de a sound to me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there the miller, down the stream did float</p>
+<p>Wi' all his childern, in his white-sa&iuml;l'd bwoat,</p>
+<p>Vur off, beyond the straggl&egrave;n cows in me&auml;d,</p>
+<p>But zent noo va&iuml;ce, athirt the ground, to me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' then a buttervlee, in zultry light,</p>
+<p>A-wheel&egrave;n on about me, vier-bright,</p>
+<p>Did show the ga&yuml;est colors to my eye,</p>
+<p>But still did bring noo va&iuml;ce around to me.</p></div>
+<a name="page393" id="page393"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;393]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I met the merry laugher on the down,</p>
+<p>Bezide her mother, on the path to town,</p>
+<p>An' oh! her she&auml;pe wer comely to the zight,</p>
+<p>But wordless then wer she a-vound to me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo, sweet ov unzeen things mid be sound,</p>
+<p>An' fe&auml;ir to zight mid soundless things be vound,</p>
+<p>But I've the laugh to hear, an' fe&auml;ce to zee,</p>
+<p>Vor they be now my own, a-bound to me.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p393" id="p393"></a>
+
+<h4>TWO AN' TWO.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The zun, O Jessie, while his fe&auml;ce do rise</p>
+<p class="i2">In vi'ry skies, a-shedd&egrave;n out his light</p>
+<p>On yollow corn a-we&auml;v&egrave;n down below</p>
+<p class="i2">His yollow glow, is ga&yuml; avore the zight.</p>
+<p class="i4">By two an' two,</p>
+<p class="i4">How goodly things do goo,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-match&egrave;n woone another to fulvill</p>
+<p class="i2">The goodness ov their Me&auml;k&egrave;r's will.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>How bright the spread&egrave;n water in the lew</p>
+<p class="i2">Do catch the blue, a-sheen&egrave;n vrom the sky;</p>
+<p>How true the grass do te&auml;ke the dewy bead</p>
+<p class="i2">That it do need, while dousty roads be dry.</p>
+<p class="i4">By pe&auml;ir an' pe&auml;ir</p>
+<p class="i4">Each thing's a-me&auml;de to she&auml;re</p>
+<p class="i2">The good another can bestow,</p>
+<p class="i2">In wisdom's work down here below.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The lowest lim's o' trees do seldom grow</p>
+<p class="i2">A-spread too low to gi'e the cows a she&auml;de;</p>
+<p>The a&iuml;r's to bear the bird, the bird's to rise;</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor light the eyes, vor eyes the light's a-me&auml;de.</p><a name="page394" id="page394"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;394]</span>
+<p class="i4">'Tis gi'e an' te&auml;ke,</p>
+<p class="i4">An' woone vor others' se&auml;ke;</p>
+<p class="i2">In pe&auml;irs a-work&egrave;n out their ends,</p>
+<p class="i2">Though men be foes that should be friends.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p394" id="p394"></a>
+
+<h4>THE LEW O' THE RICK.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>At eventide the wind wer loud</p>
+<p class="i2">By trees an' tuns above woone's head,</p>
+<p>An' all the sky wer woone dark cloud,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor all it had noo ra&iuml;n to shed;</p>
+<p>An' as the darkness gather'd thick,</p>
+<p>I zot me down below a rick,</p>
+<p>Where straws upon the win' did ride</p>
+<p>Wi' giddy flights, along my zide,</p>
+<p>Though unmolest&egrave;n me a-rest&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i4">Where I la&yuml; 'ithin the lew.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My wife's bright vier indoors did cast</p>
+<p class="i2">Its fle&auml;me upon the window pe&auml;nes</p>
+<p>That screen'd her te&auml;ble, while the blast</p>
+<p class="i2">Vled on in music down the le&auml;nes;</p>
+<p>An' as I zot in va&iuml;celess thought</p>
+<p>Ov other zummer-tides, that brought</p>
+<p>The sheen&egrave;n grass below the lark,</p>
+<p>Or left their ricks a-wear&egrave;n dark,</p>
+<p>My childern voun' me, an' come roun' me,</p>
+<p class="i4">Where I lay 'ithin the lew.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The rick that then did keep me lew</p>
+<p class="i2">Would be a-gone another Fall,</p>
+<p>An' I, in zome years, in a vew,</p>
+<p class="i2">Mid le&auml;ve the childern, big or small;</p><a name="page395" id="page395"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;395]</span>
+<p>But He that me&auml;de the wind, an' me&auml;de</p>
+<p>The lewth, an' zent wi' het the she&auml;de,</p>
+<p>Can keep my childern, all alwone</p>
+<p>O' under me, an' though vull grown</p>
+<p>Or little lispers, wi' their whispers,</p>
+<p class="i4">There a-ly&egrave;n in the lew.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p395" id="p395"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WIND IN WOONE'S FE&Auml;CE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There lovely Jenny past,</p>
+<p class="i2">While the blast did blow</p>
+<p>On over Ashknowle Hill</p>
+<p class="i2">To the mill below;</p>
+<p>A-blink&egrave;n quick, wi' lashes long,</p>
+<p class="i2">Above her che&auml;ks o' red,</p>
+<p>Age&auml;n the wind, a-be&auml;t&egrave;n strong,</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon her droop&egrave;n head.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! let dry win' blow ble&auml;k,</p>
+<p class="i2">On her che&auml;k so he&auml;le,</p>
+<p>But let noo ra&iuml;n-shot chill</p>
+<p class="i2">Me&auml;ke her ill an' pe&auml;le;</p>
+<p>Vor healthy is the breath the blast</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon the hill do yield,</p>
+<p>An' healthy is the light a cast</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom lofty sky to vield.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' mid noo sorrow-pang</p>
+<p class="i2">Ever hang a tear</p>
+<p>Upon the dark lash-he&auml;ir</p>
+<p class="i2">Ov my fe&auml;irest dear;</p>
+<p>An' mid noo unkind deed o' mine</p>
+<p class="i2">Spweil what my love mid ga&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>Nor me&auml;ke my merry Jenny pine</p>
+<p class="i2">At last wi' dim-ey'd pa&iuml;n.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page396" id="page396"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;396]</span>
+
+<h4>TOKENS</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Green mwold on zummer bars do show</p>
+<p class="i2">That they've a-dripp'd in Winter wet;</p>
+<p>The hoof-worn ring o' groun' below</p>
+<p class="i2">The tree, do tell o' storms or het;</p>
+<p>The trees in rank along a ledge</p>
+<p>Do show where woonce did bloom a hedge;</p>
+<p>An' where the vurrow-marks do stripe</p>
+<p>The down, the wheat woonce rustled ripe.</p>
+<p>Each mark ov things a-gone vrom view&mdash;</p>
+<p>To eyezight's woone, to soulzight two.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The grass age&auml;n the mwoldr&egrave;n door</p>
+<p class="i2">'S a t&oacute;ken sad o' vo'k a-gone,</p>
+<p>An' where the house, bwoth wall an' vloor,</p>
+<p class="i2">'S a-lost, the well mid linger on.</p>
+<p>What tokens, then, could Me&auml;ry gi'e</p>
+<p>Th&auml;t she'd a-liv'd, an' liv'd vor me,</p>
+<p>But things a-done vor thought an' view?</p>
+<p>Good things that nwone age&auml;n can do,</p>
+<p>An' every work her love ha' wrought,</p>
+<p>To eyezight's woone, but two to thought.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p396" id="p396"></a>
+
+<h4>TWEIL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The rick ov our last zummer's haul&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Now vrom grey's a-fe&auml;ded dark,</p>
+<p>An' off the barken ra&iuml;l's a-vall&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">Day by day, the rott&egrave;n bark.&mdash;</p>
+<p>But short's the time our works do stand,</p>
+<p>So fe&auml;ir's we put em out ov hand,</p>
+<p>Vor time a-pass&egrave;n, wet an' dry,</p>
+<p>Do spwe&iuml;l em wi' his chang&egrave;n sky,</p><a name="page397" id="page397"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;397]</span>
+<p>The while wi' striv&egrave;n hope, we men,</p>
+<p class="i2">Though a-ru&egrave;n time's undo&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Still do tweil an' tweil age&auml;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In wall-zide she&auml;des, by leafy bowers,</p>
+<p class="i2">Underneath the sway&egrave;n tree,</p>
+<p>O' le&auml;te, as round the bloom&egrave;n flowers,</p>
+<p class="i2">Lowly humm'd the giddy bee,</p>
+<p>My childern's small left voot did smite</p>
+<p>Their tiny spe&auml;de, the while the right</p>
+<p>Did trample on a de&auml;isy head,</p>
+<p>Bez&iuml;de the flower's dousty bed,</p>
+<p>An' though their work wer idle then,</p>
+<p class="i2">They a-smil&egrave;n, an' a-tweil&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Still did work an' work age&auml;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now their little limbs be stronger,</p>
+<p class="i2">Deeper now their va&iuml;ce do sound;</p>
+<p>An' their little veet be longer,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' do tread on other ground;</p>
+<p>An' rust is on the little ble&auml;des</p>
+<p class="i2">Ov all the broken-hafted spe&auml;des,</p>
+<p>An' flow'rs that wer my hope an' pride</p>
+<p>Ha' long agoo a-bloom'd an' died,</p>
+<p>But still as I did le&auml;bor then</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor love ov all them childern small,</p>
+<p>Zoo now I'll tweil an' tweil age&auml;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When the smokeless tun's a-grow&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Cwold as dew below the stars,</p>
+<p>An' when the vier noo mwore's a-glow&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Red between the window bars,</p>
+<p>We then do lay our weary heads</p>
+<p>In peace upon their nightly beds,</p>
+<p>An' gi'e woone sock, wi' heav&egrave;n breast,</p>
+<p>An' then breathe soft the breath o' rest,</p><a name="page398" id="page398"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;398]</span>
+<p>Till day do call the sons o' men</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom night-sleep's blackness, vull o' sprackness,</p>
+<p>Out abroad to tweil age&auml;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Where the va&iuml;ce o' the winds is mildest,</p>
+<p class="i2">In the pla&iuml;n, their stroke is keen;</p>
+<p>Where their dreatn&egrave;n va&iuml;ce is wildest,</p>
+<p class="i2">In the grove, the grove's our screen.</p>
+<p>An' where the worold in their strife</p>
+<p>Do dreat&egrave;n mwost our tweilsome life,</p>
+<p>Why there Almighty ce&auml;re mid cast</p>
+<p>A better screen age&auml;n the blast.</p>
+<p>Zoo I woon't live in fear o' men,</p>
+<p class="i2">But, man-neglected, God-directed,</p>
+<p>Still wull tweil an' tweil age&auml;n.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p398" id="p398"></a>
+
+<h4>FANCY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In stillness we ha' words to hear,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' she&auml;pes to zee in darkest night,</p>
+<p>An' tongues a-lost can ha&iuml;l us near,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' souls a-gone can smile in zight;</p>
+<p>When Fancy now do wander back</p>
+<p class="i2">To years a-spent, an' bring to mind</p>
+<p class="i2">Zome happy tide a-left behind</p>
+<p>In' we&auml;st&egrave;n life's slow-beat&egrave;n track.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When fe&auml;d&egrave;n leaves do drip wi' ra&iuml;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">Our thoughts can ramble in the dry;</p>
+<p>When Winter win' do zweep the pla&iuml;n</p>
+<p class="i2">We still can have a zunny sky.</p>
+<p>Vor though our limbs be winter-wrung,</p>
+<p class="i2">We still can zee, wi' Fancy's eyes,</p>
+<p class="i2">The brightest looks ov e'th an' skies,</p>
+<p>That we did know when we wer young.</p></div>
+<a name="page399" id="page399"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;399]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In pa&iuml;n our thoughts can pass to e&auml;se,</p>
+<p class="i2">In work our souls can be at pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p>An' le&auml;ve behind the chilly le&auml;se</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor warm-a&iuml;r'd me&auml;ds o' new mow'd ha&yuml;.</p>
+<p>When we do vlee in Fancy's flight</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom daily ills avore our fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' linger in zome happy ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Ov m&egrave;'th an' smiles, an' warmth an' light.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p399" id="p399"></a>
+
+<h4>THE BROKEN HEART.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>News o' grief had overte&auml;ken</p>
+<p>Dark-ey'd Fanny, now vorse&auml;ken;</p>
+<p>There she zot, wi' breast a-heav&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>While vrom zide to zide, wi' griev&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Vell her head, wi' tears a-creep&egrave;n</p>
+<p>Down her che&auml;ks, in bitter weep&egrave;n.</p>
+<p>There wer still the ribbon-bow</p>
+<p>She tied avore her hour ov woe,</p>
+<p>An' there wer still the han's that tied it</p>
+<p class="i8">Hang&egrave;n white,</p>
+<p class="i8">Or wring&egrave;n tight,</p>
+<p>In ce&auml;re that drown'd all ce&auml;re bezide it.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When a man, wi' heartless slight&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Mid become a ma&iuml;den's blight&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>He mid ce&auml;rlessly vorse&auml;ke her,</p>
+<p>But must answer to her Me&auml;ker;</p>
+<p>He mid slight, wi' selfish blindness,</p>
+<p>All her deeds o' lov&egrave;n-kindness,</p>
+<p>God wull wa&iuml;gh em wi' the slight&egrave;n</p>
+<p>That mid be her love's requit&egrave;n;</p>
+<p>He do look on each deceiver,</p>
+<p class="i8">He do know</p>
+<p class="i8">What weight o' woe</p>
+<p>Do bre&auml;k the heart ov ev'ry griever.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page400" id="page400"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;400]</span>
+
+<h4>EVEN&Egrave;N LIGHT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The while I took my bit o' rest,</p>
+<p class="i2">Below my house's eastern she&auml;de,</p>
+<p class="i2">The things that stood in vield an' gle&auml;de</p>
+<p>Wer bright in zunsheen vrom the west.</p>
+<p class="i2">There bright wer east-ward mound an' wall,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' bright wer trees, aris&egrave;n tall,</p>
+<p>An' bright did break 'ithin the brook,</p>
+<p class="i2">Down rocks, the watervall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There deep 'ithin my pworches bow</p>
+<p class="i2">Did hang my heavy woaken door,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' in beyond en, on the vloor,</p>
+<p>The even&egrave;n dusk did gather slow;</p>
+<p class="i2">But bright did gle&auml;re the twinkl&egrave;n spwokes</p>
+<p class="i2">O' runn&egrave;n carriage wheels, as vo'ks</p>
+<p>Out east did ride along the road,</p>
+<p class="i2">Bezide the low-bough'd woaks,</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' I'd a-lost the zun vrom view,</p>
+<p class="i2">Until age&auml;n his fe&auml;ce mid rise,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-sheen&egrave;n vrom the eastern skies</p>
+<p>To brighten up the rwose-borne dew;</p>
+<p class="i2">But still his lingr&egrave;n light did gi'e</p>
+<p class="i2">My heart a touch&egrave;n ja&yuml;, to zee</p>
+<p>His beams a-shed, wi' stratch&egrave;n she&auml;de,</p>
+<p class="i2">On east-ward wall an' tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When ja&yuml;, a-zent me vrom above,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom my sad heart is now agone,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' others be a-walk&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>Amid the light ov Heav&egrave;n's love,</p>
+<p class="i2">Oh! then vor lov&egrave;n-kindness se&auml;ke,</p>
+<p class="i2">Mid I rej&auml;ice that zome do te&auml;ke</p>
+<p>My hopes a-gone, until age&auml;n</p>
+<p class="i2">My happy dawn do bre&auml;k.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page401" id="page401"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;401]</span>
+
+<a name="p401" id="p401"></a>
+
+<h4>VIELDS BY WATERVALLS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When our downcast looks be smileless,</p>
+<p class="i2">Under others' wrongs an' slight&egrave;ns,</p>
+<p>When our daily deeds be guileless,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' do meet unkind requit&egrave;ns,</p>
+<p>You can me&auml;ke us zome amends</p>
+<p>Vor wrongs o' foes, an' slights o' friends;&mdash;</p>
+<p>O flow'ry-gle&auml;ded, timber-she&auml;ded</p>
+<p>Vields by flow&egrave;n watervalls!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Here be softest a&iuml;rs a-blow&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Drough the boughs, wi' zing&egrave;n drushes,</p>
+<p>Up above the streams, a-flow&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Under willows, on by rushes.</p>
+<p>Here below the bright-zunn'd sky</p>
+<p>The dew-bespangled flow'rs do dry,</p>
+<p>In woody-zided, stream-divided</p>
+<p>Vields by flow&egrave;n watervalls.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Waters, wi' their giddy roll&egrave;ns;</p>
+<p class="i2">Breezes wi' their pla&yuml;some woo&egrave;ns;</p>
+<p>Here do heal, in soft consol&egrave;ns,</p>
+<p class="i2">Hearts a-wrung wi' man's wrong do&egrave;ns.</p>
+<p>Day do come to us as ga&yuml;</p>
+<p>As to a king ov widest swa&yuml;,</p>
+<p>In de&auml;isy-whit&egrave;n'd, gil'cup-bright&egrave;n'd</p>
+<p>Vields by flow&egrave;n watervalls.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zome fe&auml;ir buds mid outlive blight&egrave;ns,</p>
+<p class="i2">Zome sweet hopes mid outlive sorrow.</p>
+<p>After days of wrongs an' slight&egrave;ns</p>
+<p class="i2">There mid break a happy morrow.</p>
+<p>We mid have noo e'thly love;</p>
+<p>But God's love-tokens vrom above</p>
+<p>Here mid meet us, here mid greet us,</p>
+<p>In the vields by watervalls.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page402" id="page402"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;402]</span>
+
+<h4>THE WHEEL ROUTS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis true I brought noo fortune hwome</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' Jenny, vor her honey-moon,</p>
+<p>But still a goodish hansel come</p>
+<p class="i2">Behind her perty soon,</p>
+<p>Vor stick, an' dish, an' spoon, all vell</p>
+<p>To Je&auml;ne, vrom Aunt o' Camwy dell.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo all the lot o' stuff a-tied</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon the plow, a tidy tod,</p>
+<p>On gravel-crunch&egrave;n wheels did ride,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' ho'ses, iron-shod,</p>
+<p>That, as their heads did nod, my whip</p>
+<p>Did guide along wi' lightsome flip.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there it rod 'ithin the rwope,</p>
+<p class="i2">Astra&iuml;n'd athirt, an' stra&iuml;n'd along,</p>
+<p>Down Thornhay's even&egrave;n-lighted slope</p>
+<p class="i2">An' up the beech-tree drong;</p>
+<p>Where wheels a-bound so strong, cut out</p>
+<p>On either zide a deep-zunk rout.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when at Fall the trees wer brown,</p>
+<p class="i2">Above the bennet-bear&egrave;n land,</p>
+<p>When beech-leaves slowly whiver'd down.</p>
+<p class="i2">By even&egrave;n winds a-fann'd;</p>
+<p>The routs wer each a band o' red,</p>
+<p>A-vill'd by drifted beech-leaves dead.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when, in Winter's leafless light,</p>
+<p class="i2">The keener eastern wind did blow.</p>
+<p>An' scatter down, avore my zight,</p>
+<p class="i2">A chilly cwoat o' snow;</p>
+<p>The routs age&auml;n did show vull bright,</p>
+<p>In two long streaks o' glitt'r&egrave;n white.</p></div>
+<a name="page403" id="page403"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;403]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But when, upon our wedd&egrave;n night,</p>
+<p class="i2">The cart's light wheels, a-roll&egrave;n round,</p>
+<p>Brought Jenny hwome, they run too light</p>
+<p class="i2">To mark the yield&egrave;n ground;</p>
+<p>Or welcome would be vound a pe&auml;ir</p>
+<p>O' green-vill'd routs a-runn&egrave;n there.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo let me never bring 'ithin</p>
+<p class="i2">My dwell&egrave;n what's a-won by wrong,</p>
+<p>An' can't come in 'ithout a sin;</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor only zee how long</p>
+<p>The waggon marks in drong, did show</p>
+<p>W&iuml;' leaves, wi' grass, wi' groun' wi' snow.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p403" id="p403"></a>
+
+<h4>NANNY'S NEW ABODE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now day by day, at lofty height,</p>
+<p class="i2">O zummer noons, the burn&egrave;n zun</p>
+<p>'Ve a-show'd avore our eastward zight,</p>
+<p class="i2">The sky-blue zide ov Hameldon,</p>
+<p>An' shone age&auml;n, on new-mow'd ground,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' ha&yuml; a-piled up grey in pook,</p>
+<p>An' down on le&auml;zes, bennet-brown'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' wheat a-vell avore the hook;</p>
+<p>Till, under elems tall,</p>
+<p class="i2">The leaves do lie on le&auml;n&egrave;n lands,</p>
+<p>In le&auml;ter light o' Fall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' last year, we did zee the red</p>
+<p class="i2">O' dawn vrom Ash-knap's thatchen oves,</p>
+<p>An' walk on crumpled leaves a-laid</p>
+<p class="i2">In grassy rook-trees' timber'd groves,</p>
+<p>Now, here, the cooler days do shrink</p>
+<p class="i2">To vewer hours o' zunny sky,</p>
+<p>While zedge, a-we&auml;v&egrave;n by the brink</p>
+<p class="i2">O' shallow brooks, do slowly die.</p><a name="page404" id="page404"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;404]</span>
+<p>An' on the timber tall,</p>
+<p class="i2">The boughs, half be&auml;re, do bend above</p>
+<p>The bulg&egrave;n banks in Fall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There, we'd a spring o' water near,</p>
+<p class="i2">Here, water's deep in wink-dra&iuml;n'd wells,</p>
+<p>The church 'tis true, is nigh out here,</p>
+<p class="i2">Too nigh wi' vive loud-boom&egrave;n bells.</p>
+<p>There, na&iuml;ghbours wer vull wide a-spread,</p>
+<p class="i2">But vo'k be here too clwose a-stow'd.</p>
+<p>Vor childern now do stun woone's head,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' na&iuml;sy pla&yuml; bezide the road,</p>
+<p>Where big so well as small,</p>
+<p class="i2">The little lad, an' lump'r&egrave;n lout,</p>
+<p>Do le&auml;p an' laugh the&auml;se Fall.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p404" id="p404"></a>
+
+<h4>LEAVES A-VALL&Egrave;N.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There the ash-tree leaves do vall</p>
+<p class="i2">In the wind a-blow&egrave;n cwolder,</p>
+<p>An' my childern, tall or small,</p>
+<p class="i2">Since last Fall be woone year wolder.</p>
+<p>Woone year wolder, woone year dearer,</p>
+<p class="i2">Till when they do leave my he'th,</p>
+<p>I shall be noo mwore a hearer</p>
+<p class="i2">O' their va&iuml;ces or their me'th.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There dead ash leaves be a-toss'd</p>
+<p class="i2">In the wind, a-blow&egrave;n stronger,</p>
+<p>An' our life-time, since we lost</p>
+<p class="i2">Souls we lov'd, is woone year longer.</p>
+<p>Woone year longer, woone year wider,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom the friends that death ha' took,</p>
+<p>As the hours do te&auml;ke the rider</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom the hand that last he shook.</p></div>
+<a name="page405" id="page405"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;405]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No. If he do ride at night</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom the zide the zun went under,</p>
+<p>Woone hour vrom his western light</p>
+<p class="i2">Needen me&auml;ke woone hour asunder;</p>
+<p>Woone hour onward, woone hour nigher</p>
+<p class="i2">To the hopeful eastern skies,</p>
+<p>Where his morn&egrave;n rim o' vier</p>
+<p class="i2">Soon age&auml;n shall meet his eyes.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Leaves be now a-scatter'd round</p>
+<p class="i2">In the wind, a-blow&egrave;n bleaker,</p>
+<p>An' if we do walk the ground</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' our life-strangth woone year weaker.</p>
+<p>Woone year weaker, woone year nigher</p>
+<p class="i2">To the ple&auml;ce where we shall vind</p>
+<p>Woone that's deathless vor the dier,</p>
+<p class="i2">Voremost they that dropp'd behind.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p405" id="p405"></a>
+
+<h4>LIZZIE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O Lizzie is so mild o' mind,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor ever kind, an' ever true;</p>
+<p>A-smil&egrave;n, while her lids do rise</p>
+<p class="i2">To show her eyes as bright as dew.</p>
+<p>An' comely do she look at night,</p>
+<p>A-danc&egrave;n in her skirt o' white,</p>
+<p>An' blush&egrave;n wi' a rwose o' red</p>
+<p>Bezide her glossy head.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Fe&auml;ir is the rwose o' blush&egrave;n hue,</p>
+<p class="i2">Behung wi' dew, in morn&egrave;n's hour,</p>
+<p>Fe&auml;ir is the rwose, so sweet below</p>
+<p class="i2">The noontide glow, bezide the bow'r.</p>
+<p>Vull fe&auml;ir, an' eet I'd rather zee</p>
+<p>The rwose a-gather'd off the tree,</p>
+<p>An' bloom&egrave;n still with blossom red,</p>
+<p>By Lizzie's glossy head.</p></div>
+<a name="page406" id="page406"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;406]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Mid peace droughout her e'thly day,</p>
+<p class="i2">Betide her way, to happy rest,</p>
+<p>An' mid she, all her wean&egrave;n life,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or ma&iuml;d or wife, be loved and blest.</p>
+<p>Though I mid never zing anew</p>
+<p>To ne&auml;me the ma&iuml;d so fe&auml;ir an' true,</p>
+<p>A-blush&egrave;n, wi' a rwose o' red,</p>
+<p>Bezide her glossy head.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p406" id="p406"></a>
+
+<h4>BLESSENS A-LEFT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Lik' souls a-toss'd at sea I bore</p>
+<p class="i2">Sad strokes o' trial, shock by shock,</p>
+<p>An' now, lik' souls a-cast ashore</p>
+<p class="i2">To rest upon the be&auml;ten rock,</p>
+<p>I still do seem to hear the sound</p>
+<p>O' we&auml;ves that drove me vrom my track,</p>
+<p>An' zee my struggl&egrave;n hopes a-drown'd,</p>
+<p>An' all my ja&yuml;s a-floated back.</p>
+<p>By storms a-toss'd, I'll gi'e God pra&iuml;se,</p>
+<p>Wi' much a-lost I still ha' ja&yuml;s.</p>
+<p>My peace is rest, my fa&iuml;th is hope,</p>
+<p>An' freedom's my unbounded scope.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor fa&iuml;th mid blunt the sting o' fear,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' peace the pangs ov ills a-vound,</p>
+<p>An' freedom vlee vrom evils near,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' wings to vwold on other ground,</p>
+<p>Wi' much a-lost, my loss is small,</p>
+<p>Vor though ov e'thly goods bereft,</p>
+<p>A thousand times well worth em all</p>
+<p>Be they good bless&egrave;ns now a-left.</p>
+<p>What e'th do own, to e'th mid vall,</p>
+<p>But what's my own my own I'll call,</p>
+<p>My fa&iuml;th, an' pe&auml;ce, the gifts o' gre&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' freedom still to shift my ple&auml;ce.</p></div>
+<a name="page407" id="page407"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;407]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When I've a-had a tree to screen</p>
+<p class="i2">My meal-rest vrom the high zunn'd-sky,</p>
+<p>Or ivy-hold&egrave;n wall between</p>
+<p class="i2">My head an' win's a-rustl&egrave;n by,</p>
+<p>I had noo call vor han's to bring</p>
+<p>Their se&auml;v'ry da&iuml;nties at my nod,</p>
+<p>But stoop'd a-drink&egrave;n vrom the spring,</p>
+<p>An' took my meal, wi' thanks to God,</p>
+<p>Wi' fa&iuml;th to keep me free o' dread,</p>
+<p>An' pe&auml;ce to sleep wi' steadvast head,</p>
+<p>An' freedom's hands, an' veet unbound</p>
+<p>To woone man's work, or woone se&auml;me ground.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p407" id="p407"></a>
+
+<h4>FALL TIME.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The gather'd clouds, a-hang&egrave;n low,</p>
+<p class="i2">Do me&auml;ke the woody ridge look dim;</p>
+<p>An' ra&iuml;n-vill'd streams do brisker flow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Aris&egrave;n higher to their brim.</p>
+<p>In the tree, vrom lim' to lim',</p>
+<p class="i8">Leaves do drop</p>
+<p>Vrom the top, all slowly down,</p>
+<p>Yollow, to the gloomy groun'.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The rick's a-tipp'd an' weather-brown'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' thatch'd wi' zedge a-dried an' dead;</p>
+<p>An' orcha'd apples, red half round,</p>
+<p class="i2">Have all a-happer'd down, a-shed</p>
+<p>Underneath the trees' wide head.</p>
+<p class="i8">Ladders long,</p>
+<p>Rong by rong, to clim' the tall</p>
+<p>Trees, be hung upon the wall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The crumpled leaves be now a-shed</p>
+<p class="i2">In morn&egrave;n winds a-blow&egrave;n keen;</p>
+<p>When they wer green the moss wer dead,</p>
+<p class="i2">Now they be dead the moss is green.</p><a name="page408" id="page408"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;408]</span>
+<p>Low the even&egrave;n zun do sheen</p>
+<p class="i4">By the boughs,</p>
+<p>Where the cows do swing their ta&iuml;ls</p>
+<p>Over the merry milkers' pa&iuml;ls.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p408" id="p408"></a>
+
+<h4>FALL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now the yollow zun, a-runn&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Daily round a smaller bow,</p>
+<p>Still wi' cloudless sky's a-zunn&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">All the sheen&egrave;n land below.</p>
+<p class="i2">Vewer blossoms now do blow,</p>
+<p>But the fruit's a-show&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Reds an' blues, an' purple hues,</p>
+<p>By the leaves a-glow&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now the childern be a-pry&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Roun' the berried bremble-bow,</p>
+<p>Zome a-laugh&egrave;n, woone a-cry&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor the slent her frock do show.</p>
+<p class="i2">Bwoys be out a-pull&egrave;n low</p>
+<p>Slooe-boughs, or a-runn&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i2">Where, on zides of hazzle-wrides,</p>
+<p>Nuts do hang a-zunn&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Where do reach roun' wheat-ricks yollow</p>
+<p class="i2">Oves o' thatch, in long-drawn ring,</p>
+<p>There, by stubbly hump an' hollow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Russet-dappled dogs do spring.</p>
+<p class="i2">Soon my apple-trees wull fling</p>
+<p>Bloom&egrave;n balls below em,</p>
+<p class="i2">That shall hide, on ev'ry zide</p>
+<p>Ground where we do drow em.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page409" id="page409"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;409]</span>
+
+<h4>THE ZILVER-WEED.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The zilver-weed upon the green,</p>
+<p class="i2">Out where my sons an' daughters play'd,</p>
+<p>Had never time to bloom between</p>
+<p class="i2">The litty steps o' bwoy an' ma&iuml;d.</p>
+<p>But rwose-trees down along the wall,</p>
+<p class="i2">That then wer all the ma&iuml;den's ce&auml;re,</p>
+<p>An' all a-trimm'd an' tra&iuml;n'd, did bear</p>
+<p class="i2">Their bloom&egrave;n buds vrom Spring to Fall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But now the zilver leaves do show</p>
+<p class="i2">To zummer day their goolden crown,</p>
+<p>Wi' noo swift shoe-zoles' litty blow,</p>
+<p class="i2">In merry pla&yuml; to be&auml;t em down.</p>
+<p>An' where vor years zome busy hand</p>
+<p class="i2">Did tra&iuml;n the rwoses wide an' high;</p>
+<p>Now woone by woone the trees do die,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' vew of all the row do stand.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p409" id="p409"></a>
+
+<h4>THE WIDOW'S HOUSE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I went hwome in the dead o' the night,</p>
+<p class="i2">When the vields wer all empty o' vo'k,</p>
+<p>An' the tuns at their cool-winded height</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer all dark, an' all cwold 'ithout smoke;</p>
+<p>An' the heads o' the trees that I pass'd</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer a-sway&egrave;n wi' low-rusl&egrave;n sound,</p>
+<p>An' the doust wer a-whirl'd wi' the blast,</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye, a smeech wi' the wind on the ground.</p>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Then I come by the young widow's hatch,</p>
+<p class="i2">Down below the wold elem's tall head,</p>
+<p>But noo vinger did lift up the latch,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor the vo'k wer so still as the dead;</p><a name="page410" id="page410"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;410]</span>
+<p>But inside, to a tree a-me&auml;de vast,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer the childern's light swing, a-hung low,</p>
+<p>An' a-rock'd by the brisk-blow&egrave;n blast,</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye, a-swung by the win' to an' fro.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor the childern, wi' pillow-borne head,</p>
+<p class="i2">Had vorgotten their swing on the lawn,</p>
+<p>An' their father, asleep wi' the dead,</p>
+<p class="i2">Had vorgotten his work at the dawn;</p>
+<p>An' their mother, a vew stilly hours,</p>
+<p class="i2">Had vorgotten where he sleept so sound,</p>
+<p>Where the wind wer a-she&auml;k&egrave;n the flow'rs,</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye, the blast the fe&auml;ir buds on the ground.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! the moon, wi' his pe&auml;le lighted skies,</p>
+<p class="i2">Have his sorrowless sleepers below.</p>
+<p>But by day to the zun they must rise</p>
+<p class="i2">To their true lives o' tweil an' ov ho.</p>
+<p>Then the childern wull rise to their fun,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' their mother mwore sorrow to veel,</p>
+<p>While the a&iuml;r is a-warm'd by the zun,</p>
+<p class="i2">Aye, the win' by the day's vi'ry wheel.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p410" id="p410"></a>
+
+<h4>THE CHILD'S GRE&Auml;VE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Avore the time when zuns went down</p>
+<p>On zummer's green a-turn'd to brown,</p>
+<p>When she&auml;des o' swa&yuml;&egrave;n wheat-e&auml;rs vell</p>
+<p>Upon the scarlet pimpernel;</p>
+<p>The while you still mid goo, an' vind</p>
+<p class="i2">'Ithin the ge&auml;rden's mossy wall,</p>
+<p class="i2">Sweet blossoms, low or ris&egrave;n tall,</p>
+<p>To me&auml;ke a tutty to your mind,</p>
+<p>In churchyard heav'd, wi' grassy breast,</p>
+<p>The gre&auml;ve-mound ov a be&auml;by's rest.</p></div>
+<a name="page411" id="page411"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;411]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when a high day broke, to call</p>
+<p>A throng 'ithin the churchyard wall,</p>
+<p>The mother brought, wi' thoughtvul mind,</p>
+<p>The fe&auml;irest buds her eyes could vind,</p>
+<p>To trim the little gre&auml;ve, an' show</p>
+<p class="i2">To other souls her love an' loss,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' me&auml;de a Se&auml;vior's little cross</p>
+<p>O' brightest flow'rs that then did blow,</p>
+<p>A-dropp&egrave;n tears a-sheen&egrave;n bright,</p>
+<p>Among the dew, in morn&egrave;n light</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' woone sweet bud her han' did ple&auml;ce</p>
+<p>Up where did droop the Se&auml;vior's fe&auml;ce;</p>
+<p>An' two she zet a-bloom&egrave;n bright,</p>
+<p>Where reach'd His hands o' left an' right;</p>
+<p>Two mwore fe&auml;ir blossoms, crimson dyed,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did mark the ple&auml;ces ov his veet,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' woone did lie, a-smell&egrave;n sweet,</p>
+<p>Up where the spear did wound the zide</p>
+<p>Ov Him that is the life ov all</p>
+<p>Gre&auml;ve sleepers, whether big or small.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The mother that in fa&iuml;th could zee</p>
+<p>The Se&auml;vior on the high cross tree</p>
+<p>Mid be a-vound a-griev&egrave;n sore,</p>
+<p>But not to grieve vor evermwore,</p>
+<p>Vor He shall show her fa&iuml;thvul mind,</p>
+<p class="i2">His cha&iuml;ce is all that she should choose,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' love that here do grieve to lose,</p>
+<p>Shall be, above, a ja&yuml; to vind,</p>
+<p>Wi' Him that evermwore shall keep</p>
+<p>The souls that He do lay asleep.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div>
+
+  <br /><br />
+
+<a name="page412" id="page412"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;412]</span>
+
+<h4>WENT VROM HWOME.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The stream-be-wander'd dell did spread</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom height to woody height,</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;ds did lie, a grassy bed,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor elem-she&auml;d&egrave;n light.</p>
+<p>The milkma&iuml;d by her white-horn'd cow,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' pa&iuml;l so white as snow,</p>
+<p>Did zing below the elem bough</p>
+<p class="i2">A-swa&yuml;&egrave;n to an' fro.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' there the even&egrave;n's low-shot light</p>
+<p class="i2">Did smite the high tree-tops,</p>
+<p>An' rabbits vrom the grass, in fright,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did le&auml;p 'ithin the copse.</p>
+<p>An' there the shepherd wi' his crook.</p>
+<p class="i2">An' dog bezide his knee,</p>
+<p>Went whissl&egrave;n by, in a&iuml;r that shook</p>
+<p class="i2">The ivy on the tree.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' on the hill, ahead, wer bars</p>
+<p class="i2">A-show&egrave;n dark on high,</p>
+<p>Avore, as eet, the even&egrave;n stars</p>
+<p class="i2">Did twinkle in the sky,</p>
+<p>An' then the last sweet even&egrave;n-tide</p>
+<p class="i2">That my long she&auml;de vell there,</p>
+<p>I went down Brindon's thymy zide,</p>
+<p class="i2">To my last sleep at Ware.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p412" id="p412"></a>
+
+<h4>THE FANCY FE&Auml;IR AT MA&Iuml;DEN NEWTON.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The Frome, wi' ever-water'd brink,</p>
+<p>Do run where shelv&egrave;n hills do zink</p>
+<p>Wi' housen all a-cluster'd roun'</p>
+<p>The parish tow'rs below the down.</p><a name="page413" id="page413"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;413]</span>
+<p>An' now, vor woonce, at le&auml;st, ov all</p>
+<p>The ple&auml;cen where the stream do vall,</p>
+<p>There's woone that zome to-day mid vind,</p>
+<p>Wi' things a-suited to their mind.</p>
+<p class="i8">An' that's out where the Fancy Fe&auml;ir</p>
+<p class="i8">Is on at Ma&iuml;den Newton.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' vo'k, a-smarten'd up, wull hop</p>
+<p>Out here, as ev'ry tra&iuml;n do stop,</p>
+<p>Vrom up the line, a longish ride,</p>
+<p>An' down along the river-zide.</p>
+<p>An' zome do be&auml;t, wi' heels an' tooes,</p>
+<p>The le&auml;nes an' paths, in nimble shoes,</p>
+<p>An' bring, bezides, a biggish knot,</p>
+<p>Ov all their childern that can trot,</p>
+<p class="i8">A-vlock&egrave;n where the Fancy Fe&auml;ir</p>
+<p class="i8">Is here at Ma&iuml;den Newton.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If you should goo, to-day, avore</p>
+<p>A <i>Chilfrome</i> house or <i>Downfrome</i> door,</p>
+<p>Or <i>Frampton's</i> park-zide row, or look</p>
+<p>Drough quiet <i>Wraxall's</i> slopy nook,</p>
+<p>Or elbow-streeted <i>Catt'stock</i>, down</p>
+<p>By <i>Castlehill's</i> cwold-winded crown,</p>
+<p>An' zee if vo'k be all at hwome,</p>
+<p>You'd vind em out&mdash;they be a-come</p>
+<p class="i8">Out hither, where the Fancy Fe&auml;ir</p>
+<p class="i8">Is on at Ma&iuml;den Newton.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Come, young men, come, an' here you'll vind</p>
+<p>A gift to please a ma&iuml;den's mind;</p>
+<p>Come, husbands, here be gifts to please</p>
+<p>Your wives, an' me&auml;ke em smile vor days;</p>
+<p>Come, so's, an' buy at Fancy Fe&auml;ir</p>
+<p>A keepse&auml;ke vor your friends elsewhere;</p><a name="page414" id="page414"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;414]</span>
+<p>You can't but stop an' spend a cwein</p>
+<p>Wi' le&auml;dies that ha' goods so fine;</p>
+<p class="i8">An' all to meake, vor childern's se&auml;ke,</p>
+<p class="i8">The School at Ma&iuml;den Newton.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p414" id="p414"></a>
+
+<h4>THINGS DO COME ROUND.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Above the leafless hazzle-wride</p>
+<p class="i2">The wind-drove ra&iuml;n did quickly vall,</p>
+<p>An' on the me&auml;ple's ribby zide</p>
+<p class="i2">Did hang the ra&iuml;n-drops quiv'r&egrave;n ball;</p>
+<p>Out where the brook o' foamy yollow</p>
+<p>Roll'd along the me&auml;d's deep hollow,</p>
+<p>An' noo birds wer out to be&auml;t,</p>
+<p>Wi' flapp&egrave;n wings, the vle&egrave;n wet</p>
+<p>O' zunless clouds on flow'rless ground.</p>
+<p>How time do bring the seasons round!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The moss, a-be&auml;t vrom trees, did lie</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon the ground in ashen droves,</p>
+<p>An' western wind did huffle high,</p>
+<p class="i2">Above the sheds' quick-dripp&egrave;n oves.</p>
+<p>An' where the rusl&egrave;n straw did sound</p>
+<p class="i2">So dry, a-shelter'd in the lew,</p>
+<p>I sta&iuml;ed alwone, an' weather-bound,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' thought on times, long years agoo,</p>
+<p>Wi' water-floods on flow'rless ground.</p>
+<p>How time do bring the seasons round!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>We then, in childhood pla&yuml;, did seem</p>
+<p class="i2">In work o' men to te&auml;ke a pe&auml;rt,</p>
+<p>A-drev&egrave;n on our wild bwoy team,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or lwoad&egrave;n o' the tiny cart.</p>
+<p>Or, on our little refters, spread</p>
+<p>The zedgen ruf above our head,</p><a name="page415" id="page415"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;415]</span>
+<p>But coulden tell, as now we can,</p>
+<p>Where each would goo to tweil a man.</p>
+<p>O ja&yuml;s a-lost, an' ja&yuml;s a-vound,</p>
+<p>How Providence do bring things round!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Where woonce along the sky o' blue</p>
+<p class="i2">The zun went roun' his longsome bow,</p>
+<p>An' brighten'd, to my soul, the view</p>
+<p class="i2">About our little farm below.</p>
+<p>There I did pla&yuml; the merry ge&auml;me,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' childern ev'ry holitide,</p>
+<p>But coulden tell the va&iuml;ce or ne&auml;me</p>
+<p class="i2">That time would vind to be my bride.</p>
+<p>O hwome a-left, O wife a-vound,</p>
+<p>How Providence do bring things round!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when I took my manhood's ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p class="i2">A husband to a wife's true vow,</p>
+<p>I never thought by ne&auml;me or fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2">O' childern that be round me now.</p>
+<p>An' now they all do grow vrom small,</p>
+<p>Drough life's fe&auml;ir she&auml;pes to big an' tall,</p>
+<p>I still be blind to God's good plan,</p>
+<p>To ple&auml;ce em out as wife, or man.</p>
+<p>O thread o' love by God unwound,</p>
+<p>How He in time do bring things round;</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p415" id="p415"></a>
+
+<h4>ZUMMER THOUGHTS IN WINTER TIME.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, aye, last even&egrave;n, as I shook</p>
+<p>My locks ov ha&yuml; by Leecombe brook.</p>
+<p>The yollow zun did weakly glance</p>
+<p>Upon the winter me&auml;d askance,</p>
+<p>A-cast&egrave;n out my narrow she&auml;de</p>
+<p>Athirt the brook, an' on the me&auml;d.</p><a name="page416" id="page416"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;416]</span>
+<p>The while age&auml;n my lwonesome ears</p>
+<p>Did russle weatherbe&auml;ten spears,</p>
+<p>Below the withy's leafless head</p>
+<p>That overhung the river's bed;</p>
+<p>I there did think o' days that dried</p>
+<p>The new-mow'd grass o' zummer-tide,</p>
+<p>When white-sleev'd mowers' whetted ble&auml;des</p>
+<p>Rung sh'ill along the green-bough'd gle&auml;des,</p>
+<p>An' ma&iuml;dens ga&yuml;, wi' pla&yuml;some chaps,</p>
+<p>A-zot wi' dinners in their laps,</p>
+<p>Did talk wi' merry words that rung</p>
+<p>Around the ring, vrom tongue to tongue;</p>
+<p>An' welcome, when the leaves ha' died,</p>
+<p>Be zummer thoughts in winter-tide.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p416" id="p416"></a>
+
+<h4>I'M OUT O' DOOR.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I'm out, when, in the Winter's blast,</p>
+<p class="i2">The zun, a-runn&egrave;n lowly round,</p>
+<p>Do mark the she&auml;des the hedge do cast</p>
+<p class="i2">At noon, in hoarvrost, on the ground,</p>
+<p>I'm out when snow's a-ly&egrave;n white</p>
+<p class="i2">In keen-a&iuml;r'd vields that I do pass,</p>
+<p>An' moonbeams, vrom above, do smite</p>
+<p class="i2">On ice an' sleeper's window-glass.</p>
+<p class="i8">I'm out o' door,</p>
+<p class="i8">When win' do zweep,</p>
+<p class="i8">By hang&egrave;n steep,</p>
+<p class="i8">Or hollow deep,</p>
+<p class="i16">      At Lindenore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O welcome is the lewth a-vound</p>
+<p class="i2">By rustl&egrave;n copse, or ivied bank,</p>
+<p>Or by the ha&yuml;-rick, weather-brown'd</p>
+<p class="i2">By barken-grass, a-spring&egrave;n rank;</p><a name="page417" id="page417"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;417]</span>
+<p>Or where the waggon, vrom the team</p>
+<p class="i2">A-freed, is well a-housed vrom wet,</p>
+<p>An' on the dousty cart-house beam</p>
+<p class="i2">Do hang the cobweb's white-lin'd net.</p>
+<p class="i8">While storms do roar,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' win' do zweep,</p>
+<p class="i8">By hang&egrave;n steep,</p>
+<p class="i8">Or hollow deep,</p>
+<p class="i16">      At Lindenore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when a good day's work's a-done</p>
+<p class="i2">An' I do rest, the while a squall</p>
+<p>Do rumble in the hollow tun,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' ivy-stems do whip the wall.</p>
+<p>Then in the house do sound about</p>
+<p class="i2">My ears, dear va&iuml;ces vull or thin,</p>
+<p>A pra&yuml;&egrave;n vor the souls vur out</p>
+<p class="i2">At sea, an' cry wi' bibb'r&egrave;n chin&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i8">Oh! shut the door.</p>
+<p class="i8">What soul can sleep,</p>
+<p class="i8">Upon the deep,</p>
+<p class="i8">When storms do zweep</p>
+<p class="i16">      At Lindenore.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p417" id="p417"></a>
+
+<h4>GRIEF AN' GLADNESS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Can all be still, when win's do blow?</p>
+<p class="i2">Look down the grove an' zee</p>
+<p class="i2">The boughs a-swing&egrave;n on the tree,</p>
+<p>An' be&auml;ten we&auml;ves below.</p>
+<p>Zee how the tweil&egrave;n vo'k do bend</p>
+<p class="i2">Upon their windward track,</p>
+<p>Wi' ev'ry string, an' garment's end,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-flutt'r&egrave;n at their back."</p><a name="page418" id="page418"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;418]</span>
+<p>I cried, wi' sorrow sore a-tried,</p>
+<p>An' hung, wi' Jenny at my zide,</p>
+<p class="i2">My head upon my breast.</p>
+<p>Wi' strokes o' grief so hard to bear,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis hard vor souls to rest.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Can all be dull, when zuns do glow?</p>
+<p class="i2">Oh! no; look down the grove,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where zides o' trees be bright above;</p>
+<p>An' we&auml;ves do sheen below;</p>
+<p>An' ne&auml;ked stems o' wood in hedge</p>
+<p class="i2">Do gle&auml;m in stre&auml;ks o' light,</p>
+<p>An' rocks do gle&auml;re upon the ledge</p>
+<p class="i2">O' yonder zunny height,</p>
+<p>"No, Je&auml;ne, wi' trials now withdrawn,</p>
+<p>Lik' darkness at a happy dawn."</p>
+<p class="i2">I cried, "Noo mwore despair;</p>
+<p>Wi' our lost peace age&auml;n a-vound,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis wrong to harbour ce&auml;re."</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p418" id="p418"></a>
+
+<h4>SLID&Egrave;N.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">When wind wer keen,</p>
+<p class="i8">Where ivy-green</p>
+<p class="i8">Did clwosely wind</p>
+<p class="i8">Roun' woak-tree rind,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' ice shone bright,</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;ds wer white, wi' thin-spread snow</p>
+<p class="i2">Then on the pond, a-spread&egrave;n wide,</p>
+<p class="i2">We bwoys did zweep along the slide,</p>
+<p>A-strik&egrave;n on in merry row.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">There rudd&yuml;-fe&auml;ced,</p>
+<p class="i8">In busy he&auml;ste,</p><a name="page419" id="page419"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;419]</span>
+<p class="i8">We all did wag</p>
+<p class="i8">A spank&egrave;n lag,</p>
+<p class="i8">To win good speed,</p>
+<p>When we, stra&iuml;ght-knee'd, wi' foreright tooes,</p>
+<p class="i2">Should shoot along the slipp'ry track,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' grind&egrave;n sound, a-gett&egrave;n slack,</p>
+<p>The slower went our clump&egrave;n shoes.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">Vor zome slow chap,</p>
+<p class="i8">Did te&auml;ke mishap,</p>
+<p class="i8">As he did veel</p>
+<p class="i8">His hinder heel</p>
+<p class="i8">A-het a thump,</p>
+<p>Wi' zome big lump, o' voot an' shoe.</p>
+<p class="i2">Down vell the voremost wi' a squall,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' down the next went wi' a sprawl,</p>
+<p>An' down went all the laugh&egrave;n crew.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">As to an' fro,</p>
+<p class="i8">In merry row,</p>
+<p class="i8">We all went round</p>
+<p class="i8">On ice, on ground</p>
+<p class="i8">The ma&iuml;dens nigh</p>
+<p>A-stann&egrave;n shy, did zee us slide,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' in their e&auml;prons small, did vwold</p>
+<p class="i2">Their little hands, a-got red-cwold,</p>
+<p>Or slide on ice o' two veet wide.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">By leafless copse,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' be&auml;re tree-tops,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' zun's low beams,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' ice-boun' streams,</p>
+<p class="i8">An' vrost-boun' mill,</p>
+<p>A-stann&egrave;n still. Come wind, blow on,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' gi'e the bwoys, this Chris'mas tide,</p>
+<p class="i2">The glitt'r&egrave;n ice to me&auml;ke a slide,</p>
+<p>As we had our slide, years agone.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page420" id="page420"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;420]</span>
+
+<h4>LWONESOMENESS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As I do zew, wi' nimble hand,</p>
+<p class="i2">In here avore the window's light,</p>
+<p>How still do all the housegear stand</p>
+<p class="i2">Around my lwonesome zight.</p>
+<p>How still do all the housegear stand</p>
+<p>Since Willie now 've a-left the land.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The rwose-tree's window-she&auml;d&egrave;n bow</p>
+<p class="i2">Do hang in leaf, an' win'-blow'd flow'rs,</p>
+<p>Avore my lwonesome eyes do show</p>
+<p class="i2">The&auml;se bright November hours.</p>
+<p>Avore my lwonesome eyes do show</p>
+<p>Wi' nwone but I to zee em blow.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The she&auml;des o' leafy buds, avore</p>
+<p class="i2">The pe&auml;nes, do she&auml;ke upon the glass,</p>
+<p>An' stir in light upon the vloor,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where now vew veet do pass,</p>
+<p>An' stir in light upon the vloor,</p>
+<p>Where there's a-stirr&egrave;n noth&egrave;n mwore.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>This win' mid dreve upon the ma&iuml;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">My brother's ship, a-plow&egrave;n foam,</p>
+<p>But not bring mother, cwold, nor ra&iuml;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">At her now happy hwome.</p>
+<p>But not bring mother, cwold, nor ra&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>Where she is out o' pain.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zoo now that I'm a-mwop&egrave;n dumb,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-keep&egrave;n father's house, do you</p>
+<p>Come of'en wi' your work vrom hwome,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor company. Now do.</p>
+<p>Come of'en wi' your work vrom hwome,</p>
+<p>Up here a-while. Do come.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page421" id="page421"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;421]</span>
+
+<h4>A SNOWY NIGHT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Twer at night, an' a keen win' did blow</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom the east under pe&auml;le-twinkl&egrave;n stars,</p>
+<p>All a-zweep&egrave;n along the white snow;</p>
+<p class="i2">On the groun', on the trees, on the bars,</p>
+<p>Vrom the hedge where the win' russled drough,</p>
+<p class="i2">There a light-russl&egrave;n snow-doust did vall;</p>
+<p>An' noo ple&auml;ce wer a-vound that wer lew,</p>
+<p class="i2">But the shed, or the ivy-hung wall.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then I knock'd at the wold passage door</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' the win'-driven snow on my locks;</p>
+<p>Till, a-com&egrave;n along the cwold vloor,</p>
+<p class="i2">There my Jenny soon answer'd my knocks.</p>
+<p>Then the wind, by the door a-swung wide,</p>
+<p class="i2">Flung some snow in her clear-bloom&egrave;n fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' she blink'd wi' her head all a-zide,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' a-chuckl&egrave;n, went back to her ple&auml;ce.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' in there, as we zot roun' the brands,</p>
+<p class="i2">Though the talkers wer ma&iuml;nly the men,</p>
+<p>Bloom&egrave;n Je&auml;ne, wi' her work in her hands,</p>
+<p class="i2">Did put in a good word now an' then.</p>
+<p>An' when I took my leave, though so ble&auml;k</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer the weather, she went to the door,</p>
+<p>Wi' a smile, an' a blush on the che&auml;k</p>
+<p class="i2">That the snow had a-smitten avore.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p421" id="p421"></a>
+
+<h4>THE YEAR-CLOCK.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>We zot bezide the le&auml;fy wall,</p>
+<p>Upon the bench at evenfall,</p>
+<p>While aunt led off our minds vrom ce&auml;re</p>
+<p>Wi' ve&auml;iry te&auml;les, I can't tell where:</p><a name="page422" id="page422"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;422]</span>
+<p>An' vound us woone among her stock</p>
+<p>O' fe&auml;bles, o' the girt Year-clock.</p>
+<p>His fe&auml;ce wer blue's the zummer skies,</p>
+<p>An' wide's the zight o' look&egrave;n eyes,</p>
+<p>For hands, a zun wi' glow&egrave;n fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' pe&auml;ler moon wi' swifter pe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Did wheel by stars o' twinkl&egrave;n light,</p>
+<p>By bright-wall'd day, an' dark-treed night;</p>
+<p>An' down upon the high-sky'd land,</p>
+<p>A-reach&egrave;n wide, on either hand,</p>
+<p>Wer hill an' dell wi' win'-swa&yuml;'d trees,</p>
+<p>An' lights a-zweep&egrave;n over seas,</p>
+<p>An' gleam&egrave;n cliffs, an' bright-wall'd tow'rs,</p>
+<p>Wi' she&auml;des a-mark&egrave;n on the hours;</p>
+<p>An' as the fe&auml;ce, a-roll&egrave;n round,</p>
+<p>Brought comely she&auml;pes along the ground.</p>
+<p>The Spring did come in winsome ste&auml;te</p>
+<p>Below a glow&egrave;n ra&iuml;nbow ge&auml;te;</p>
+<p>An' fan wi' a&iuml;r a-blow&egrave;n weak,</p>
+<p>Her glossy he&auml;ir, an' rwosy che&auml;k,</p>
+<p>As she did shed vrom oben hand,</p>
+<p>The le&auml;p&egrave;n zeed on vurrow'd land;</p>
+<p>The while the rook, wi' he&auml;sty flight,</p>
+<p>A-float&egrave;n in the glow&egrave;n light,</p>
+<p>Did bear avore her glossy breast</p>
+<p>A stick to build her lofty nest,</p>
+<p>An' strong-limb'd Tweil, wi' steady hands,</p>
+<p>Did guide along the vallow lands</p>
+<p>The heavy zull, wi' bright-she&auml;r'd beam,</p>
+<p>Avore the we&auml;ry oxen team,</p>
+<p>Wi' Spring a-gone there come behind</p>
+<p>Sweet Zummer, ja&yuml; ov ev'ry mind,</p>
+<p>Wi' fe&auml;ce a-beam&egrave;n to beguile</p>
+<p>Our we&auml;ry souls ov ev'ry tweil.</p>
+<p>While birds did warble in the dell</p>
+<p>In softest a&iuml;r o' sweetest smell;</p><a name="page423" id="page423"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;423]</span>
+<p>An' she, so winsome-fe&auml;ir did vwold</p>
+<p>Her comely limbs in green an' goold,</p>
+<p>An' wear a rwosy wreath, wi' studs</p>
+<p>O' berries green, an' new-born buds,</p>
+<p>A-fring'd in colours vier-bright,</p>
+<p>Wi' she&auml;pes o' buttervlees in flight.</p>
+<p>When Zummer went, the next ov all</p>
+<p>Did come the she&auml;pe o' brown-fe&auml;c'd Fall,</p>
+<p>A-smil&egrave;n in a comely gown</p>
+<p>O' green, a-shot wi' yellow-brown,</p>
+<p>A-border'd wi' a goolden stripe</p>
+<p>O' fringe, a-me&auml;de o' corn-ears ripe,</p>
+<p>An' up age&auml;n her comely zide,</p>
+<p>Upon her rounded e&auml;rm, did ride</p>
+<p>A perty basket, all a-twin'd</p>
+<p>O' slender stems wi' leaves an' rind,</p>
+<p>A-vill'd wi' fruit the trees did shed,</p>
+<p>All ripe, in purple, goold, an' red;</p>
+<p>An' busy Le&auml;bor there did come</p>
+<p>A-zing&egrave;n zongs ov harvest hwome,</p>
+<p>An' red-ear'd dogs did briskly run</p>
+<p>Roun' cheervul Leisure wi' his gun,</p>
+<p>Or stan' an' mark, wi' stedvast zight,</p>
+<p>The speckled pa'tridge rise in flight.</p>
+<p>An' next age&auml;n to mild-fe&auml;c'd Fall</p>
+<p>Did come pe&auml;le Winter, last ov all,</p>
+<p>A-bend&egrave;n down, in thoughtvul mood,</p>
+<p>Her head 'ithin a snow-white hood</p>
+<p>A-deck'd wi' icy-jewels, bright</p>
+<p>An' cwold as twinkl&egrave;n stars o' night;</p>
+<p>An' there wer weary Le&auml;bor, slack</p>
+<p>O' veet to keep her vrozen track,</p>
+<p>A-look&egrave;n off, wi' wistful eyes,</p>
+<p>To reefs o' smoke, that there did rise</p>
+<p>A-melt&egrave;n to the pe&auml;le-fe&auml;c'd zun,</p>
+<p>Above the houses' lofty tun.</p><a name="page424" id="page424"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;424]</span>
+<p>An' there the girt Year-clock did goo</p>
+<p>By day an' night, vor ever true,</p>
+<p>Wi' mighty wheels a-roll&egrave;n round</p>
+<p>'Ithout a be&auml;t, 'ithout a sound.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p424" id="p424"></a>
+
+<h4>NOT GOO HWOME TO-NIGHT.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No, no, why you've noo wife at hwome</p>
+<p>Abid&egrave;n up till you do come,</p>
+<p>Zoo le&auml;ve your hat upon the pin,</p>
+<p>Vor I'm your wa&iuml;ter. Here's your inn,</p>
+<p>Wi' chair to rest, an' bed to roost;</p>
+<p>You have but little work to do</p>
+<p>This vrosty time at hwome in mill,</p>
+<p>Your vrozen wheel's a-stann&egrave;n still,</p>
+<p>The sleep&egrave;n ice woont grind vor you.</p>
+<p>No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night,</p>
+<p>Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>As I come by, to-day, where stood</p>
+<p>Wi' ne&auml;ked trees, the purple wood,</p>
+<p>The scarlet hunter's ho'ses veet</p>
+<p>Tore up the she&auml;k&egrave;n ground, wind-fleet,</p>
+<p>Wi' reach&egrave;n heads, an' pank&egrave;n hides;</p>
+<p>The while the flat-wing'd rooks in vlock.</p>
+<p>Did zwim a-sheen&egrave;n at their height;</p>
+<p>But your good river, since last night,</p>
+<p>Wer all a-vroze so still's a rock.</p>
+<p>No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night,</p>
+<p>Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Zee how the huffl&egrave;n win' do blow,</p>
+<p>A-whirl&egrave;n down the giddy snow:</p>
+<p>Zee how the sky's a-we&auml;r&egrave;n dim,</p>
+<p>Behind the elem's ne&auml;ked lim'.</p><a name="page425" id="page425"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;425]</span>
+<p>That there do le&auml;n above the le&auml;ne:</p>
+<p>Zoo te&auml;ke your ple&auml;ce bezide the dogs,</p>
+<p>An' sip a drop o' hwome-brew'd e&auml;le,</p>
+<p>An' zing your zong or tell your te&auml;le,</p>
+<p>While I do ba&iuml;t the vier wi' logs.</p>
+<p>No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night,</p>
+<p>Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Your me&auml;re's in ste&auml;ble wi' her hocks</p>
+<p>In straw above her vetterlocks,</p>
+<p>A-reach&egrave;n up her me&auml;ney neck,</p>
+<p>An' pull&egrave;n down good hay vrom reck,</p>
+<p>A-me&auml;k&egrave;n slight o' snow an' sleet;</p>
+<p>She don't want you upon her back,</p>
+<p>To vall upon the slippery stwones</p>
+<p>On Hollyh&uuml;l, an' break your bwones,</p>
+<p>Or miss, in snow, her hidden track.</p>
+<p>No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night,</p>
+<p>Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Here, Jenny, come pull out your key</p>
+<p>An' hansel, wi' zome tidy tea,</p>
+<p>The zilver pot that we do owe</p>
+<p>To your prize butter at the show,</p>
+<p>An' put zome bread upon the bwoard.</p>
+<p>Ah! he do smile; now that 'ull do,</p>
+<p>He'll stay. Here, Polly, bring a light,</p>
+<p>We'll have a happy hour to-night,</p>
+<p>I'm thankvul we be in the lew.</p>
+<p>No, no, he woont goo hwome to-night,</p>
+<p>Not Robin White, o' Craglin mill.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div>
+
+  <br /><br />
+
+<a name="page426" id="page426"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;426]</span>
+
+<h4>THE HUMSTRUM.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Why woonce, at Chris'mas-tide, avore</p>
+<p>The wold year wer a-reckon'd out,</p>
+<p>The humstrums here did come about,</p>
+<p>A-sound&egrave;n up at ev'ry door.</p>
+<p>But now a bow do never scre&auml;pe</p>
+<p class="i2">A humstrum, any where all round,</p>
+<p>An' zome can't tell a humstrum's she&auml;pe,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' never he&auml;rd his jingl&egrave;n sound.</p>
+<p>As <i>ing-an-ing</i> did ring the string,</p>
+<p>As <i>ang-an-ang</i> the wires did clang.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The strings a-tighten'd lik' to crack</p>
+<p>Athirt the canister's tin zide,</p>
+<p>Did reach, a glitt'r&egrave;n, zide by zide,</p>
+<p>Above the humstrum's hollow back.</p>
+<p>An' there the bwoy, wi' bended stick,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-strung wi' he&auml;ir, to me&auml;ke a bow,</p>
+<p>Did dreve his elbow, light'n&egrave;n quick,</p>
+<p class="i2">Athirt the strings from high to low.</p>
+<p>As <i>ing-an-ing</i> did ring the string,</p>
+<p>As <i>ang-an-ang</i> the wires did clang.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The mother there did stan' an' hush</p>
+<p>Her child, to hear the jingl&egrave;n sound,</p>
+<p>The merry ma&iuml;d, a-scrubb&egrave;n round</p>
+<p>Her white-ste&auml;v'd pa&iuml;l, did stop her brush.</p>
+<p>The mis'ess there, vor wold time's se&auml;ke,</p>
+<p class="i2">Had gifts to gi'e, and smiles to show,</p>
+<p>An' me&auml;ster, too, did stan' an' she&auml;ke</p>
+<p class="i2">His two broad zides, a-chuckl&egrave;n low,</p>
+<p>While <i>ing-an-ing</i> did ring the string,</p>
+<p>While <i>ang-an-ang</i> the wires did clang.</p></div>
+<a name="page427" id="page427"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;427]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The pla&yuml;ers' pockets wer a-strout,</p>
+<p>Wi' wold brown pence, a-rottl&egrave;n in,</p>
+<p>Their zwang&egrave;n bags did soon begin,</p>
+<p>Wi' brocks an' scraps, to plim well out.</p>
+<p>The childern all did run an' poke</p>
+<p class="i2">Their heads vrom hatch or door, an' shout</p>
+<p>A-runn&egrave;n back to wolder vo'k.</p>
+<p class="i2">Why, here! the humstrums be about!</p>
+<p>As <i>ing-an-ing</i> did ring the string,</p>
+<p>As <i>ang-an-ang</i> the wires did clang.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p427" id="p427"></a>
+
+<h4>SHAFTESBURY FE&Auml;IR.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When hillborne Paladore did show</p>
+<p>So bright to me down miles below.</p>
+<p>As woonce the zun, a-roll&egrave;n west,</p>
+<p>Did brighten up his hill's high breast.</p>
+<p>Wi' walls a-look&egrave;n dazzl&egrave;n white,</p>
+<p>Or yollow, on the grey-topp'd height</p>
+<p>Of Paladore, as pe&auml;le day wore</p>
+<p class="i8">Awa&yuml; so fe&auml;ir.</p>
+<p>Oh! how I wish'd that I wer there.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The ple&auml;ce wer too vur off to spy</p>
+<p>The liv&egrave;n vo'k a-pass&egrave;n by;</p>
+<p>The vo'k too vur vor a&iuml;r to bring</p>
+<p>The words that they did speak or zing.</p>
+<p>All dum' to me wer each abode,</p>
+<p>An' empty wer the down-hill road</p>
+<p>Vrom Paladore, as pe&auml;le day wore</p>
+<p class="i8">Awa&yuml; so fe&auml;ir;</p>
+<p>But how I wish'd that I wer there.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But when I clomb the lofty ground</p>
+<p>Where liv&egrave;n veet an' tongues did sound,</p><a name="page428" id="page428"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;428]</span>
+<p>At fe&auml;ir, bezide your bloom&egrave;n fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>The pertiest in all the ple&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>As you did look, wi' eyes as blue</p>
+<p>As yonder southern hills in view,</p>
+<p>Vrom Paladore&mdash;O Polly dear,</p>
+<p class="i8">Wi' you up there,</p>
+<p>How merry then wer I at fe&auml;ir.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Since vu'st I trod thik steep hill-zide</p>
+<p>My griev&egrave;n soul 'v a-been a-tried</p>
+<p>Wi' pa&iuml;n, an' loss o' worldly ge&auml;r,</p>
+<p>An' souls a-gone I wanted near;</p>
+<p>But you be here to goo up still,</p>
+<p>An' look to Blackmwore vrom the hill</p>
+<p>O' Paladore. Zoo, Polly dear,</p>
+<p class="i8">We'll goo up there,</p>
+<p>An' spend an hour or two at fe&auml;ir.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The wold brown me&auml;re's a-brought vrom grass,</p>
+<p>An' rubb'd an' cwomb'd so bright as glass;</p>
+<p>An' now we'll hitch her in, an' start</p>
+<p>To fe&auml;ir upon the new green cart,</p>
+<p>An' te&auml;ke our little Poll between</p>
+<p>Our zides, as proud's a little queen,</p>
+<p>To Paladore. Aye, Poll a dear,</p>
+<p class="i8">Vor now 'tis fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>An' she's a long&egrave;n to goo there.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>While Paladore, on watch, do stra&iuml;n</p>
+<p>Her eyes to Blackmwore's blue-hill'd pl&auml;in,</p>
+<p>While Duncliffe is the traveller's mark,</p>
+<p>Or cloty Stour's a-roll&egrave;n dark;</p>
+<p>Or while our bells do call, vor gre&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>The vo'k avore their Se&auml;vior's fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Mid Paladore, an' Poll a dear,</p>
+<p class="i8">Vor ever know</p>
+<p>O' pe&auml;ce an' plenty down below.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page429" id="page429"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;429]</span>
+
+<h4>THE BE&Auml;TEN PATH.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The be&auml;ten path where vo'k do meet</p>
+<p class="i2">A-com&egrave;n on vrom vur an' near;</p>
+<p>How many errands had the veet</p>
+<p class="i2">That wore en out along so clear!</p>
+<p>Where eegrass ble&auml;des be green in me&auml;d,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where bennets up the le&auml;ze be brown,</p>
+<p>An' where the timber bridge do le&auml;d</p>
+<p class="i2">Athirt the cloty brook to town,</p>
+<p>Along the path by mile an' mile,</p>
+<p>Athirt the yield, an' brook, an' stile,</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There runn&egrave;n childern's hearty laugh</p>
+<p class="i2">Do come an' vlee along&mdash;win' swift:</p>
+<p>The wold man's glossy-knobb&egrave;d staff</p>
+<p class="i2">Do help his veet so hard to lift;</p>
+<p>The ma&iuml;d do bear her basket by,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-hang&egrave;n at her bre&auml;th&egrave;n zide;</p>
+<p>An' ce&auml;reless young men, stra&iuml;ght an' spry,</p>
+<p class="i2">Do whissle hwome at eventide,</p>
+<p>Along the path, a-reach&egrave;n by</p>
+<p>Below tall trees an' oben sky.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>There woone do goo to ja&yuml; a-head;</p>
+<p class="i2">Another's ja&yuml;'s behind his back.</p>
+<p>There woone his vu'st long mile do tread,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' woone the last ov all his track.</p>
+<p>An' woone mid end a hopevul road,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' hopeless grief a-te&auml;k&egrave;n on,</p>
+<p>As he that le&auml;tely vrom abroad</p>
+<p class="i2">Come hwome to seek his love a-gone,</p>
+<p>Noo mwore to tread, wi' comely e&auml;se,</p>
+<p>The be&auml;ten path athirt the le&auml;ze.</p></div>
+<a name="page430" id="page430"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;430]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In tweilsome hardships, year by year,</p>
+<p class="i2">He drough the worold wander'd wide,</p>
+<p>Still bent, in mind, both vur an' near</p>
+<p class="i2">To come an' me&auml;ke his love his bride.</p>
+<p>An' pass&egrave;n here drough even&egrave;n dew</p>
+<p class="i2">He he&auml;sten'd, happy, to her door,</p>
+<p>But vound the wold vo'k only two,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' noo mwore vootsteps on the vloor,</p>
+<p>To walk age&auml;n below the skies,</p>
+<p>Where be&auml;ten paths do vall an' rise;</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vor she wer gone vrom e'thly eyes</p>
+<p class="i2">To be a-kept in darksome sleep,</p>
+<p>Until the good age&auml;n do rise</p>
+<p class="i2">A-ja&yuml; to souls they left to weep.</p>
+<p>The rwose wer doust that bound her brow;</p>
+<p class="i2">The moth did eat her Zunday ce&auml;pe;</p>
+<p>Her frock wer out o' fashion now;</p>
+<p class="i2">Her shoes wer dried up out o' she&auml;pe&mdash;</p>
+<p>The shoes that woonce did glitter black</p>
+<p>Along the le&auml;zes be&auml;ten track.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p430" id="p430"></a>
+
+<h4>RUTH A-RID&Egrave;N.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ov all the roads that ever bridge</p>
+<p class="i2">Did bear athirt a river's fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Or ho'ses up an' down the ridge</p>
+<p class="i2">Did wear to doust at ev'ry pe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>I'll te&auml;ke the Stalton le&auml;ne to tread,</p>
+<p>By banks wi' primrwose-beds bespread,</p>
+<p>An' ste&auml;tely elems over head,</p>
+<p class="i4">Where Ruth do come a-rid&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' I would rise when vields be grey</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' morn&egrave;n dew, avore 'tis dry,</p>
+<p>An' be&auml;t the doust droughout the day</p>
+<p class="i2">To bluest hills ov all the sky;</p><a name="page431" id="page431"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;431]</span>
+<p>If there, avore the dusk o' night,</p>
+<p>The even&egrave;n zun, a-sheen&egrave;n bright,</p>
+<p>Would pay my le&auml;bors wi' the zight</p>
+<p class="i4">O' Ruth&mdash;o' Ruth a-rid&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Her healthy fe&auml;ce is rwosy fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p class="i2">She's comely in her ga&iuml;t an' lim',</p>
+<p>An' sweet's the smile her fe&auml;ce do wear,</p>
+<p class="i2">Below her cap's well-rounded brim;</p>
+<p>An' while her skirt's a-spre&auml;d&egrave;n wide,</p>
+<p>In vwolds upon the ho'se's zide,</p>
+<p>He'll toss his head, an' snort wi' pride,</p>
+<p class="i4">To trot wi' Ruth a-rid&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' as her ho'se's rottl&egrave;n pe&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2">Do slacken till his veet do be&auml;t</p>
+<p>A slower trot, an' till her fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p class="i2">Do bloom avore the tollman's ge&auml;te;</p>
+<p>Oh! he'd be glad to oben wide</p>
+<p>His high-back'd ge&auml;te, an' stand azide,</p>
+<p>A-giv&egrave;n up his toll wi' pride,</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor zight o' Ruth a-rid&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' oh! that Ruth could be my bride,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' I had ho'ses at my will,</p>
+<p>That I mid te&auml;ke her by my zide,</p>
+<p class="i2">A-rid&egrave;n over dell an' hill;</p>
+<p>I'd zet wi' pride her litty tooe</p>
+<p>'Ithin a stirrup, sheen&egrave;n new,</p>
+<p>An' le&auml;ve all other ja&yuml;s to goo</p>
+<p class="i4">Along wi' Ruth a-rid&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If ma&iuml;dens that be we&auml;k an' pe&auml;le</p>
+<p class="i2">A-mwop&egrave;n in the house's she&auml;de,</p>
+<p>Would wish to be so blithe and he&auml;le</p>
+<p class="i2">As you did zee young Ruth a-me&auml;de;</p><a name="page432" id="page432"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;432]</span>
+<p>Then, though the zummer zun mid glow,</p>
+<p>Or though the Winter win' mid blow,</p>
+<p>They'd le&auml;p upon the saddle's bow,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' goo, lik' Ruth, a-rid&egrave;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>While even&egrave;n light do sof'ly gild</p>
+<p class="i2">The moss upon the elem's bark,</p>
+<p>Avore the zing&egrave;n bird's a-still'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or woods be dim, or day is dark,</p>
+<p>Wi' quiv'r&egrave;n grass avore his breast,</p>
+<p>In cowslip beds, do lie at rest,</p>
+<p>The ho'se that now do goo the best</p>
+<p class="i4">Wi' rwosy Ruth a-rid&egrave;n.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p432-1" id="p432-1"></a>
+
+<h4>BEAUTY UNDECKED.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The grass mid sheen when wat'ry be&auml;ds</p>
+<p>O' dew do glitter on the me&auml;ds,</p>
+<p>An' thorns be bright when quiv'r&egrave;n studs</p>
+<p>O' ra&iuml;n do hang upon their buds&mdash;</p>
+<p>As jewels be a-me&auml;de by art</p>
+<p>To zet the pla&iuml;nest vo'k off smart.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But she&auml;k&egrave;n ivy on its tree,</p>
+<p>An' low-bough'd laurel at our knee,</p>
+<p>Be bright all da&yuml;, without the gle&auml;re,</p>
+<p>O' drops that duller le&auml;ves mid we&auml;r&mdash;</p>
+<p>As Je&auml;ne is fe&auml;ir to look upon</p>
+<p>In pla&iuml;nest gear that she can don.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p432-2" id="p432-2"></a>
+
+<h4>MY LOVE IS GOOD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My love is good, my love is fe&auml;ir,</p>
+<p class="i2">She's comely to behold, O,</p>
+<p>In ev'rything that she do wear,</p>
+<p class="i2">Altho' 'tis new or wold, O.</p><a name="page433" id="page433"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;433]</span>
+<p>My heart do le&auml;p to see her walk,</p>
+<p class="i2">So stra&iuml;ght do step her veet, O,</p>
+<p>My tongue is dum' to hear her talk,</p>
+<p class="i2">Her va&iuml;ce do sound so sweet, O.</p>
+<p>The flow'ry groun' wi' floor o' green</p>
+<p>Do bear but vew, so good an' true.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When she do zit, then she do seem</p>
+<p class="i2">The fe&auml;irest to my zight, O,</p>
+<p>Till she do stan' an' I do deem,</p>
+<p class="i2">She's fe&auml;irest at her height, O.</p>
+<p>An' she do seem 'ithin a room</p>
+<p class="i2">The fe&auml;irest on a floor, O,</p>
+<p>Till I age&auml;n do zee her bloom</p>
+<p class="i2">Still fe&auml;irer out o' door, O.</p>
+<p>Where flow'ry groun' wi' floor o' green</p>
+<p>Do bear but vew, so good an' true.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' when the de&auml;isies be a-press'd</p>
+<p class="i2">Below her vootsteps wa&iuml;ght, O,</p>
+<p>Do seem as if she look'd the best</p>
+<p class="i2">Ov all in walk&egrave;n ga&iuml;t, O.</p>
+<p>Till I do zee her zit upright</p>
+<p class="i2">Behind the ho'ses neck, O,</p>
+<p>A-hold&egrave;n wi' the ra&iuml;n so tight</p>
+<p class="i2">His toss&egrave;n head in check, O,</p>
+<p>Where flow'ry groun' wi' floor o' green</p>
+<p>Do bear but vew, so good an' true.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I wish I had my own free land</p>
+<p class="i2">To keep a ho'se to ride, O,</p>
+<p>I wish I had a ho'se in hand</p>
+<p class="i2">To ride en at her zide, O.</p>
+<p>Vor if I wer as high in rank</p>
+<p class="i2">As any duke or lord, O,</p><a name="page434" id="page434"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;434]</span>
+<p>Or had the goold the richest bank</p>
+<p class="i2">Can shovel from his horde, O,</p>
+<p>I'd love her still, if even then</p>
+<p>She wer a le&auml;ser in a glen.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="p434" id="p434"></a>
+
+<h4>HEEDLESS O' MY LOVE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! I vu'st know'd o' my true love,</p>
+<p class="i2">As the bright moon up above,</p>
+<p>Though her brightness wer my pleasure,</p>
+<p class="i2">She wer heedless o' my love.</p>
+<p>Tho' 'twer all ga&yuml; to my eyes,</p>
+<p>Where her fe&auml;ir fe&auml;ce did arise,</p>
+<p>She noo mwore thought upon my thoughts,</p>
+<p class="i2">Than the high moon in the skies.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! I vu'st he&auml;rd her a-zing&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">As a sweet bird on a tree,</p>
+<p>Though her zing&egrave;n wer my pleasure,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Twer noo zong she zung to me.</p>
+<p>Though her sweet va&iuml;ce that wer nigh,</p>
+<p>Me&auml;de my wild heart to beat high,</p>
+<p>She noo mwore thought upon my thoughts,</p>
+<p class="i2">Than the birds would passers by.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! I vu'st know'd her a-weep&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i2">As a ra&iuml;n-dimm'd morn&egrave;n sky,</p>
+<p>Though her te&auml;r-draps dimm'd her blushes,</p>
+<p class="i2">They wer noo draps I could dry.</p>
+<p>Ev'ry bright tear that did roll,</p>
+<p>Wer a keen pa&iuml;n to my soul,</p>
+<p>But noo he&auml;rt's pang she did then veel,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer vor my words to console.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But the wold times be a-vanish'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' my true love is my bride.</p><a name="page435" id="page435"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;435]</span>
+<p>An' her kind heart have a-me&auml;de her.</p>
+<p class="i2">As an angel at my zide;</p>
+<p>I've her best smiles that mid pla&yuml;,</p>
+<p>I've her me'th when she is ga&yuml;,</p>
+<p>When her tear-draps be a-roll&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>I can now wipe em awa&yuml;.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p435" id="p435"></a>
+
+<h4>THE DO'SET MILITIA.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Hurrah! my lads, vor Do'set men!</p>
+<p>A-muster'd here in red age&auml;n;</p>
+<p>All welcome to your ranks, a-spread</p>
+<p>Up zide to zide, to stand, or wheel,</p>
+<p>An' welcome to your files, to head</p>
+<p>The steady march wi' tooe to heel;</p>
+<p>Welcome to marches slow or quick!</p>
+<p>Welcome to gath'r&egrave;ns thin or thick;</p>
+<p>God speed the Colonel on the hill,<a href="#p436"><sup style="font-size: 0.8em;">*</sup></a></p>
+<p>An' Mrs Bingham,<a href="#p436"><sup style="font-size: 0.7em;">&dagger;</sup></a> off o' drill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When you've a-handled well your lock,</p>
+<p>An' flung about your rifle stock</p>
+<p>Vrom han' to shoulder, up an' down;</p>
+<p>When you've a-lwoaded an' a-vired,</p>
+<p>Till you do come back into town,</p>
+<p>Wi' all your lopp&egrave;n limbs a-tired,</p>
+<p>An you be dry an' burn&egrave;n hot,</p>
+<p>Why here's your tea an' coffee pot</p>
+<p>At Mister Green&egrave;n's penny till,</p>
+<p>Wi' Mrs Bingham off o' drill.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Last year John Hinley's mother cried,</p>
+<p>"Why my bwoy John is quite my pride!</p><a name="page436" id="page436"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;436]</span>
+<p>Vor he've a-been so good to-year,</p>
+<p>An' han't a-mell'd wi' any squabbles,</p>
+<p>An' han't a-drown'd his wits in beer,</p>
+<p>An' han't a-been in any hobbles.</p>
+<p>I never thought he'd turn out bad,</p>
+<p>He always wer so good a lad;</p>
+<p>But now I'm sure he's better still,</p>
+<p>Drough Mrs Bingham, off o' drill."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Je&auml;ne Hart, that's Joey Duntley's cha&iuml;ce,</p>
+<p>Do praise en up wi' her sweet va&iuml;ce,</p>
+<p>Vor he's so strait's a hollyhock</p>
+<p>(Vew hollyhocks be up so tall),</p>
+<p>An' he do come so true's the clock</p>
+<p>To Mrs Bingham's coffee-stall;</p>
+<p>An' Je&auml;ne do write, an' brag o' Joe</p>
+<p>To te&auml;ke the young recruits in tow,</p>
+<p>An' try, vor all their good, to bring em,</p>
+<p>A-come from drill, to Mrs Bingham.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>God speed the Colonel, topp&egrave;n high,</p>
+<p>An' officers wi' sworded thigh,</p>
+<p>An' all the sargeants that do bawl</p>
+<p>All day enough to split their droats,</p>
+<p>An' all the corporals, and all</p>
+<p>The band a-pla&yuml;&egrave;n up their notes,</p>
+<p>An' all the men vrom vur an' near</p>
+<p>We'll gi'e em all a hearty cheer.</p>
+<p>An' then another cheer&egrave;n still</p>
+<p>Vor Mrs Bingham, off o' drill.</p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br /><a name="p436" id="p436"></a>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;"><a href="#p435"><sup>*</sup></a> Poundbury, Dorchester, the drill ground.</span></p> </div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;"><a href="#p435"><sup>&dagger;</sup></a> The colonel's wife, who opened a room with a coffee-stall,</span></p>
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and entertainments for the men off drill.</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<br /><br />
+
+<a name="page437" id="page437"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;437]</span>
+
+<h4>A DO'SET SALE.</h4>
+
+<h5>WITH A MISTAKE.</h5>
+
+<h4>(<i>Thomas and Mr Auctioneer</i>.)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><i>T.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Well here, then, Mister auctioneer,</p>
+<p class="i4">Be the&auml;se the virs, I bought, out here?</p></div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p><i>A.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;The firs, the fir-poles, you bought? &nbsp;&nbsp;Who?</p>
+<p class="i4">'Twas <i>furze</i>, not <i>firs</i>, I sold to you.</p></div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p><i>T.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;I bid vor <i>virs</i>, and not vor <i>vuzzen</i>,</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor vir-poles, as I thought, two dozen.</p></div><div class="stanza">
+<p><i>A.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Two dozen faggots, and I took</p>
+<p class="i4">Your bidding for them. &nbsp;&nbsp;Here's the book.</p></div><div class="stanza">
+<p><i>T.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;I wont have what I didd&egrave;n buy.</p>
+<p class="i4">I don't want <i>vuzzen</i>, now. &nbsp;&nbsp;Not I.</p>
+<p class="i4">Why <i>firs</i> an' <i>furze</i> do sound the se&auml;me.</p>
+<p class="i4">Why don't ye gi'e a thing his ne&auml;me?</p>
+<p class="i4">Aye, <i>firs</i> and <i>furze</i>! &nbsp;&nbsp;Why, who can tell</p>
+<p class="i4">Which 'tis that you do me&auml;n to zell?</p>
+<p class="i4">No, no, be kind enough to call</p>
+<p class="i4">Em <i>virs</i>, and <i>vuzzen</i>, then, that's all.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p437" id="p437"></a>
+
+<h4>DON'T CE&Auml;RE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>At the fe&auml;st, I do mind very well, all the vo'ks</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer a-took in a happer&egrave;n storm,</p>
+<p>But we chaps took the ma&iuml;dens, an' kept em wi' clokes</p>
+<p class="i2">Under shelter, all dry an' all warm;</p>
+<p>An' to my lot vell Je&auml;ne, that's my bride,</p>
+<p>That did titter, a-hung at my zide;</p>
+<p>Zaid her aunt, "Why the vo'k 'ull talk finely o' you,"</p>
+<p>An', cried she, "I don't ce&auml;re if they do."</p></div>
+<a name="page438" id="page438"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;438]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When the time o' the fe&auml;st wer age&auml;n a-come round,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' the vo'k wer a-gather'd woonce mwore,</p>
+<p>Why she guess'd if she went there, she'd soon be a-vound</p>
+<p class="i2">An' a-took se&auml;fely hwome to her door.</p>
+<p>Zaid her mother, "'Tis sure to be wet."</p>
+<p>Zaid her cousin, "'T'ull ra&iuml;n by zunzet."</p>
+<p>Zaid her aunt, "Why the clouds there do look black an' blue,"</p>
+<p>An' zaid she, "I don't ce&auml;re if they do."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' at last, when she own'd I mid me&auml;ke her my bride,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor to help me, an' she&auml;re all my lot,</p>
+<p>An' wi' fa&iuml;thvulness keep all her life at my zide,</p>
+<p class="i2">Though my wa&yuml; mid be happy or not.</p>
+<p>Zaid her na&iuml;ghbours, "Why wedlock's a clog,</p>
+<p>An' a wife's a-tied up lik' a dog."</p>
+<p>Zaid her aunt, "You'll vind trials enough vor to rue,"</p>
+<p>An', zaid she, "I don't ce&auml;re if I do."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<hr class="short" /></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now she's married, an' still in the midst ov her tweils</p>
+<p class="i2">She's as happy's the daylight is long,</p>
+<p>She do goo out abroad wi' her fe&auml;ce vull o' smiles,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' do work in the house wi' a zong.</p>
+<p>An', zays woone, "She don't grieve, you can tell."</p>
+<p>Zays another, "Why, don't she look well!"</p>
+<p>Zays her aunt, "Why the young vo'k do envy you two,"</p>
+<p>An', zays she, "I don't ce&auml;re if they do."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now vor me I can zing in my business abrode,</p>
+<p class="i2">Though the storm do be&auml;t down on my poll,</p>
+<p>There's a wife-brighten'd vier at the end o' my road,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' her love vor the ja&yuml; o' my soul.</p>
+<p>Out o' door I wi' rogues mid be tried:</p>
+<p>Out o' door be brow-be&auml;ten wi' pride;</p>
+<p>Men mid scowl out o' door, if my wife is but true&mdash;</p>
+<p>Let em scowl, "I don't ce&auml;re if they do."</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page439" id="page439"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;439]</span>
+
+<h4>CHANGES.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>By time's a-brought the morn&egrave;n light,</p>
+<p class="i2">By time the light do we&auml;ne;</p>
+<p>By time's a-brought the young man's might,</p>
+<p class="i2">By time his might do we&auml;ne;</p>
+<p>The Winter snow do whit&egrave;n grass,</p>
+<p>The zummer flow'rs do bright&egrave;n grass,</p>
+<p>Vor zome things we do lose wi' pa&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>We've mwore that mid be ja&yuml; to ga&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>An' my dear life do seem the se&auml;me</p>
+<p class="i6">While at my zide</p>
+<p class="i6">There still do bide</p>
+<p>Your welcome fe&auml;ce an' hwomely ne&auml;me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>W&iuml;' ev'ry day that woonce come on</p>
+<p class="i2">I had to choose a ja&yuml;,</p>
+<p>Wi' many that be since a-gone</p>
+<p class="i2">I had to lose a ja&yuml;.</p>
+<p>Drough longsome years a-wander&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Drough lwonesome rest a-ponder&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Woone peaceful daytime wer a-bro't</p>
+<p>To heal the heart another smote;</p>
+<p>But my dear life do seem the se&auml;me</p>
+<p class="i6">While I can hear,</p>
+<p class="i6">A-sound&egrave;n near,</p>
+<p>Your answ'r&egrave;n va&iuml;ce an' long-call'd ne&auml;me.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' oh! that hope, when life do dawn,</p>
+<p class="i2">Should rise to light our wa&yuml;,</p>
+<p>An' then, wi' we&auml;n&egrave;n het withdrawn,</p>
+<p class="i2">Should soon benight our wa&yuml;.</p>
+<p>Whatever mid beval me still,</p>
+<p>Wherever chance mid call me still,</p><a name="page440" id="page440"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;440]</span>
+<p>Though le&auml;te my even&egrave;n tweil mid cease,</p>
+<p>An' though my night mid lose its peace,</p>
+<p>My life will seem to me the se&auml;me</p>
+<p class="i6">While you do she&auml;re</p>
+<p class="i6">My daily ce&auml;re,</p>
+<p>An' answer to your long-call'd ne&auml;me.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p440" id="p440"></a>
+
+<h4>KINDNESS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Good Me&auml;ster Collins he&auml;rd woone day</p>
+<p>A man a-talk&egrave;n, that did zay</p>
+<p>It woulden answer to be kind,</p>
+<p>He thought, to vo'k o' grov'l&egrave;n mind,</p>
+<p>Vor they would only te&auml;ke it wrong,</p>
+<p>That you be weak an' they be strong.</p>
+<p>"No," cried the goodman, "never mind,</p>
+<p>Let vo'k be thankless,&mdash;you be kind;</p>
+<p>Don't do your good for e'thly ends</p>
+<p>At man's own call vor man's amends.</p>
+<p>Though souls befriended should rema&iuml;n</p>
+<p>As thankless as the sea vor ra&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>On them the good's a-lost 'tis true,</p>
+<p>But never can be lost to you.</p>
+<p>Look on the cool-fe&auml;ced moon at night</p>
+<p>Wi' light-vull ring, at utmost height,</p>
+<p>A-cast&egrave;n down, in gleam&egrave;n strokes,</p>
+<p>His beams upon the dim-bough'd woaks,</p>
+<p>To show the cliff a-ris&egrave;n steep,</p>
+<p>To show the stream a-vall&egrave;n deep,</p>
+<p>To show where wind&egrave;n roads do le&auml;d,</p>
+<p>An' prickly thorns do ward the me&auml;d.</p>
+<p>While she&auml;des o' boughs do flutter dark</p>
+<p>Upon the woak-trees' moon-bright bark.</p>
+<p>There in the lewth, below the hill,</p>
+<p>The night&egrave;nge&auml;le, wi' ring&egrave;n bill,</p><a name="page441" id="page441"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;441]</span>
+<p>Do zing among the soft-a&iuml;r'd groves,</p>
+<p>While up below the house's oves</p>
+<p>The ma&iuml;d, a-look&egrave;n vrom her room</p>
+<p>Drough window, in her youthvul bloom,</p>
+<p>Do listen, wi' white ears among</p>
+<p>Her glossy he&auml;irlocks, to the zong.</p>
+<p>If, then, the while the moon do l&iuml;ght</p>
+<p>The lwonesome zinger o' the night,</p>
+<p>His cwold-beam'd light do seem to show</p>
+<p>The prowl&egrave;n owls the mouse below.</p>
+<p>What then? Because an evil will,</p>
+<p>Ov his sweet good, mid me&auml;ke zome ill,</p>
+<p>Shall all his fe&auml;ce be kept behind</p>
+<p>The dark-brow'd hills to le&auml;ve us blind?"</p>
+  </div>  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p441" id="p441"></a>
+
+<h4>WITHSTANDERS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When weakness now do strive wi' might</p>
+<p class="i2">In struggles ov an e'thly trial,</p>
+<p>Might mid overcome the right,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' truth be turn'd by might's denial;</p>
+<p>Withstanders we ha' mwost to fe&auml;r,</p>
+<p>If selfishness do wring us here,</p>
+<p>Be souls a-hold&egrave;n in their hand,</p>
+<p>The might an' riches o' the land.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But when the wicked, now so strong,</p>
+<p class="i2">Shall stan' vor judgment, pe&auml;le as ashes,</p>
+<p>By the souls that rued their wrong,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' tears a-hang&egrave;n on their lashes&mdash;</p>
+<p>Then w&iuml;thstanders they shall de&auml;re</p>
+<p>The le&auml;st ov all to meet wi' there,</p>
+<p>Mid be the helpless souls that now</p>
+<p>Below their wrongvul might mid bow.</p></div>
+<a name="page442" id="page442"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;442]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Sweet childern o' the dead, bereft</p>
+<p class="i2">Ov all their goods by guile an' forg&egrave;n;</p>
+<p>Souls o' driven sle&auml;ves that left</p>
+<p class="i2">Their we&auml;ry limbs a-mark'd by scourg&egrave;n;</p>
+<p>They that God ha' call'd to die</p>
+<p>Vor truth age&auml;n the worold's lie,</p>
+<p>An' they that groan'd an' cried in va&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>A-bound by foes' unrighteous cha&iuml;n.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The ma&iuml;d that selfish craft led on</p>
+<p class="i2">To sin, an' left wi' hope a-blighted;</p>
+<p>Starv&egrave;n workmen, thin an' wan,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' hopeless le&auml;bour ill requited;</p>
+<p>Souls a-wrong'd, an' call'd to vill</p>
+<p>Wi' dread, the men that us'd em ill.</p>
+<p>When might shall yield to right as pliant</p>
+<p>As a dwarf avore a giant.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When there, at last, the good shall glow</p>
+<p class="i2">In starbright bodies lik' their Se&auml;viour,</p>
+<p>Vor all their flesh noo mwore mid show,</p>
+<p class="i2">The marks o' man's unkind behe&auml;viour:</p>
+<p>Wi' speechless tongue, an' burn&egrave;n cheak,</p>
+<p>The strong shall bow avore the we&auml;k,</p>
+<p>An' vind that helplessness, wi' right,</p>
+<p>Is strong beyond all e'thly might.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p442" id="p442"></a>
+
+<h4>DANIEL DWITHEN, THE WISE CHAP.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Dan Dwithen wer the chap to show</p>
+<p>His na&iuml;ghbours mwore than they did know,</p>
+<p>Vor he could zee, wi' half a thought,</p>
+<p>What zome could hardly be a-taught;</p>
+<p class="i2">An' he had never any doubt</p>
+<p>Whatever 'twer, but he did know't,</p>
+<p>An' had a-reach'd the bottom o't,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or soon could me&auml;ke it out.</p>
+  </div>
+<a name="page443" id="page443"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;443]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Wi' narrow fe&auml;ce, an' nose so thin</p>
+<p>That light a'most shone drough the skin,</p>
+<p>As he did talk, wi' his red pe&auml;ir</p>
+<p>O' lips, an' his vull eyes did ste&auml;re,</p>
+<p class="i2">What nippy looks friend Daniel wore,</p>
+<p>An' how he smiled as he did bring</p>
+<p>Such reasons vor to clear a thing,</p>
+<p class="i2">As dather'd vo'k the mwore!</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When woonce there come along the road</p>
+<p>At night, zome show-vo'k, wi' a lwoad</p>
+<p>Ov half the wild outland&iuml;sh things</p>
+<p>That crawl'd, or went wi' veet, or wings;</p>
+<p class="i2">Their elephant, to stratch his knees,</p>
+<p>Walk'd up the road-zide turf, an' left</p>
+<p>His tracks a-zunk wi' all his heft</p>
+<p class="i2">As big's a vinny cheese.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' zoo next morn&egrave;n zome vo'k vound</p>
+<p>The girt round tracks upon the ground,</p>
+<p>An' view'd em all wi' stedvast eyes,</p>
+<p>An' wi' their vingers spann'd their size,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' took their depth below the brink:</p>
+<p>An' whether they mid be the tracks</p>
+<p>O' things wi' witches on their backs,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or what, they coulden think.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>At last friend Dan come up, an' brought</p>
+<p>His wit to help their dizzy thought,</p>
+<p>An' look&egrave;n on an' off the ea'th,</p>
+<p>He cried, a-draw&egrave;n a vull breath,</p>
+<p class="i2">Why, I do know; what, can't ye zee 't?</p>
+<p>I'll bet a shill&egrave;n 'twer a deer</p>
+<p>Broke out o' park, an' sprung on here,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' quoits upon his veet.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+<a name="page444" id="page444"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;444]</span>
+
+<h4>TURN&Egrave;N THINGS OFF.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Upzides wi' Polly! no, he'd vind</p>
+<p>That Poll would soon le&auml;ve him behind.</p>
+<p>To turn things off! oh! she's too quick</p>
+<p>To be a-caught by ev'ry trick.</p>
+<p>Woone day our Jimmy stole down ste&auml;irs</p>
+<p>On merry Polly unawe&auml;res,</p>
+<p>The while her nimble tongue did run</p>
+<p>A-tell&egrave;n, all alive wi' fun,</p>
+<p>To sister Anne, how Simon He&auml;re</p>
+<p>Did hanker after her at fe&auml;ir.</p>
+<p>"He left," cried Polly, "cousin Je&auml;ne,</p>
+<p>An' kept wi' us all down the le&auml;ne,</p>
+<p>An' which way ever we did le&auml;d</p>
+<p>He vollow'd over hill an' me&auml;d;</p>
+<p>An' wi' his head o' shaggy he&auml;ir,</p>
+<p>An' sleek brown cwoat that he do we&auml;re,</p>
+<p>An' collar that did reach so high</p>
+<p>'S his two red ears, or perty nigh,</p>
+<p>He swung his t&auml;il, wi' steps o' pride,</p>
+<p>Back right an' left, vrom zide to zide,</p>
+<p>A-walk&egrave;n on, wi' heavy strides</p>
+<p>A half behind, an' half upzides."</p>
+<p>"Who's that?" cried Jimmy, all agog;</p>
+<p>An' thought he had her now han'-pat,</p>
+<p>"That's Simon He&auml;re," but no, "Who's that?"</p>
+<p>Cried she at woonce, "Why Uncle's dog,</p>
+<p>Wi' what have you a-been misled</p>
+<p>I wonder. Tell me what I zaid."</p>
+<p>Woone even&egrave;n as she zot bezide</p>
+<p>The wall the rangl&egrave;n vine do hide,</p>
+<p>A-prattl&egrave;n on, as she did zend</p>
+<p>Her needle, at her vinger's end.</p><a name="page445" id="page445"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;445]</span>
+<p>On drough the work she had in hand,</p>
+<p>Zome bran-new thing that she'd a-plann'd,</p>
+<p>Jim overhe&auml;rd her talk age&auml;n</p>
+<p>O' Robin Hine, ov Ivy Le&auml;ne,</p>
+<p>"Oh! no, what he!" she cried in scorn,</p>
+<p>"I would&egrave;n gie a penny vor'n;</p>
+<p>The best ov him's outzide in view;</p>
+<p>His cwoat is ga&yuml; enough, 'tis true,</p>
+<p>But then the wold vo'k didden bring</p>
+<p>En up to know a single thing,</p>
+<p>An' as vor zing&egrave;n,&mdash;what do seem</p>
+<p>His zing&egrave;n's noth&egrave;n but a scream."</p>
+<p>"So ho!" cried Jim, "Who's that, then, Me&auml;ry,</p>
+<p>That you be now a-talk&egrave;n o'?"</p>
+<p>He thought to catch her then, but, no,</p>
+<p>Cried Polly, "Oh! why Je&auml;ne's cane&auml;ry,</p>
+<p>Wi' what have you a-been misled,</p>
+<p>I wonder. Tell me what I zaid."</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p445" id="p445"></a>
+
+<h4>THE GIANTS IN TRE&Auml;DES.</h4>
+
+<h4><span class="sc">Gramfer's Fe&auml;ble.</span></h4>
+
+<h4>(<i>How the steam engine come about.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><i>Vier, A&iuml;r, E'th, Water</i>, wer a-me&auml;de</p>
+<p>Good workers, each o'm in his tre&auml;de,</p>
+<p>An' <i>A&iuml;r</i> an' <i>Water</i>, wer a-match</p>
+<p class="i2">Vor woone another in a mill;</p>
+<p>The giant <i>Water</i> at a hatch,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' <i>A&iuml;r</i> on the windmill hill.</p>
+<p>Zoo then, when <i>Water</i> had a-me&auml;de</p>
+<p>Zome money, <i>&Auml;ir</i> begrudg'd his tre&auml;de,</p>
+<p>An' come by, unawe&auml;res woone night,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' vound en at his own mill-head,</p>
+<p>An' cast upon en, iron-tight,</p><a name="page446" id="page446"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;446]</span>
+<p class="i2">An icy cwoat so stiff as lead.</p>
+<p>An' there he wer so good as dead</p>
+<p>Vor grind&egrave;n any corn vor bread.</p>
+<p>Then <i>Water</i> cried to <i>Vier</i>, "Alack!</p>
+<p class="i2">Look, here be I, so stiff's a log,</p>
+<p>Thik fellor <i>A&iuml;r</i> do keep me back</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom grind&egrave;n. I can't wag a cog.</p>
+<p>If I, dear <i>Vier</i>, did ever souse</p>
+<p>Your nimble body on a house,</p>
+<p>When you wer on your merry pranks</p>
+<p>Wi' thatch or refters, beams or planks,</p>
+<p>Vorgi'e me, do, in pity's ne&auml;me,</p>
+<p>Vor 'twerden I that wer to ble&auml;me,</p>
+<p>I never wagg'd, though I be'nt cring&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Till men did dreve me wi' their engine.</p>
+<p>Do zet me free vrom the&auml;se cwold jacket,</p>
+<p>Vor I myzelf shall never crack it."</p>
+<p>"Well come," cried <i>Vier</i>, "My vo'k ha' me&auml;de</p>
+<p>An engine that 'ull work your tre&auml;de.</p>
+<p>If <i>E'th</i> is only in the mood,</p>
+<p>While I do work, to gi'e me food,</p>
+<p>I'll help ye, an' I'll me&auml;ke your skill</p>
+<p>A match vor Mister <i>A&iuml;r's</i> wold mill."</p>
+<p>"What food," cried <i>E'th</i>, "'ull suit your bwoard?"</p>
+<p>"Oh! trust me, I ben't over nice,"</p>
+<p>Cried <i>Vier</i>, "an' I can eat a slice</p>
+<p>Ov any thing you can avword."</p>
+<p>"I've lots," cried <i>E'th</i>, "ov coal an' wood."</p>
+<p>"Ah! that's the stuff," cried <i>Vier</i>, "that's good."</p>
+<p>Zoo <i>Vier</i> at woonce to <i>Water</i> cried,</p>
+<p>"Here, <i>Water</i>, here, you get inside</p>
+<p>O' the&auml;se girt bwoiler. Then I'll show</p>
+<p>How I can help ye down below,</p>
+<p>An' when my work shall woonce begin</p>
+<p>You'll be a thousand times so strong,</p>
+<p>An' be a thousand times so long</p><a name="page447" id="page447"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;447]</span>
+<p>An' big as when you vu'st got in.</p>
+<p>An' I wull me&auml;ke, as sure as death,</p>
+<p>Thik fellor <i>A&iuml;r</i> to vind me breath,</p>
+<p>An' you shall grind, an' pull, an' dreve,</p>
+<p>An' zaw, an' drash, an' pump, an' heave,</p>
+<p>An' get vrom <i>A&iuml;r</i>, in time, I'll lay</p>
+<p>A pound, the drev&egrave;n ships at sea."</p>
+<p>An' zoo 'tis good to zee that might</p>
+<p>Wull help a man a-wrong'd, to right.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p447" id="p447"></a>
+
+<h4>THE LITTLE WOROLD.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My hwome wer on the timber'd ground</p>
+<p>O' Duncombe, wi' the hills a-bound:</p>
+<p>Where vew from other pe&auml;rts did come,</p>
+<p>An' vew did travel vur from hwome,</p>
+<p>An' small the worold I did know;</p>
+<p>But then, what had it to bestow</p>
+<p>But Fanny De&auml;ne so good an' fe&auml;ir?</p>
+<p>'Twer wide enough if she wer there.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In our deep hollow where the zun</p>
+<p>Did e&auml;rly le&auml;ve the smoky tun,</p>
+<p>An' all the me&auml;ds a-grow&egrave;n dim,</p>
+<p>Below the hill wi' zunny rim;</p>
+<p>Oh! small the land the hills did bound,</p>
+<p>But there did walk upon the ground</p>
+<p>Young Fanny De&auml;ne so good an' fe&auml;ir:</p>
+<p>'Twer wide enough if she wer there.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>O' le&auml;te upon the misty pla&iuml;n</p>
+<p>I sta&yuml;'d vor shelter vrom the ra&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>Where sharp-leav'd ash&egrave;s' heads did twist</p>
+<p>In huffl&egrave;n wind, an' drift&egrave;n mist,</p><a name="page448" id="page448"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;448]</span>
+<p>An' small the worold I could zee;</p>
+<p>But then it had below the tree</p>
+<p>My Fanny De&auml;ne so good an' fe&auml;ir:</p>
+<p>'Twer wide enough if she wer there.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>An' I've a house wi' thatchen ridge,</p>
+<p>Below the elems by the bridge:</p>
+<p>Wi' small-pe&auml;n'd windows, that do look</p>
+<p>Upon a knap, an' rambl&egrave;n brook;</p>
+<p>An' small's my house, my ruf is low,</p>
+<p>But then who mid it have to show</p>
+<p>But Fanny De&auml;ne so good an' fe&auml;ir?</p>
+<p>'Tis fine enough if peace is there.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p448" id="p448"></a>
+
+<h4>BAD NEWS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>I do mind when there broke bitter tid&egrave;ns,</p>
+<p class="i4">Woone day, on their ears,</p>
+<p>An' their souls wer a-smote wi' a stroke</p>
+<p>As the lightn&egrave;n do vall on the woak,</p>
+<p>An' the things that wer bright all around em</p>
+<p class="i4">Seem'd dim drough their tears.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then unheeded wer things in their vingers,</p>
+<p class="i4">Their grief wer their all.</p>
+<p>All unheeded wer zongs o' the birds,</p>
+<p>All unheeded the child's perty words,</p>
+<p>All unheeded the kitten a-roll&egrave;n</p>
+<p class="i4">The white-threaded ball.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! vor their minds the daylight around em</p>
+<p class="i4">Had noth&egrave;n to show.</p>
+<p>Though it brighten'd their tears as they vell,</p>
+<p>An' did sheen on their lips that did tell,</p>
+<p>In their va&iuml;ces all thrill&egrave;n an' mwoansome,</p>
+<p class="i4">O' noth&egrave;n but woe.</p></div>
+<a name="page449" id="page449"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;449]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But they vound that, by Heavenly mercy,</p>
+<p class="i4">The news werden true;</p>
+<p>An' they shook, wi' low laughter, as quick</p>
+<p>As a drum when his blows do vall thick,</p>
+<p>An' wer e&auml;rnest in words o' thanksgiv&egrave;n,</p>
+<p class="i4">Vor mercies anew.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p449" id="p449"></a>
+
+<h4>THE TURNSTILE.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! sad wer we as we did pe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>The wold church road, wi' downcast fe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>The while the bells, that mwoan'd so deep</p>
+<p>Above our child a-left asleep,</p>
+<p>Wer now a-zing&egrave;n all alive</p>
+<p>Wi' tother bells to me&auml;ke the vive.</p>
+<p>But up at woone ple&auml;ce we come by,</p>
+<p>'Twer hard to keep woone's two eyes dry:</p>
+<p>On Ste&auml;n-cliff road, 'ithin the drong,</p>
+<p>Up where, as vo'k do pass along,</p>
+<p>The turn&egrave;n stile, a-pa&iuml;nted white,</p>
+<p>Do sheen by day an' show by night.</p>
+<p>Vor always there, as we did goo</p>
+<p>To church, thik stile did let us drough,</p>
+<p>Wi' spread&egrave;n e&auml;rms that wheel'd to guide</p>
+<p>Us each in turn to tother zide.</p>
+<p>An' vu'st ov all the tra&iuml;n he took</p>
+<p>My wife, wi' winsome ga&iuml;t an' look;</p>
+<p>An' then zent on my little ma&iuml;d,</p>
+<p>A-skipp&egrave;n onward, overja&yuml;'d</p>
+<p>To reach age&auml;n the ple&auml;ce o' pride,</p>
+<p>Her comely mother's left han' zide.</p>
+<p>An' then, a-wheel&egrave;n roun', he took</p>
+<p>On me, 'ithin his third white nook.</p>
+<p>An' in the fourth, a-she&auml;k&egrave;n wild,</p>
+<p>He zent us on our giddy child.</p></div>
+<a name="page450" id="page450"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;450]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But eesterday he guided slow</p>
+<p>My downcast Jenny, vull o' woe,</p>
+<p>An' then my little ma&iuml;d in black,</p>
+<p>A-walk&egrave;n softly on her track;</p>
+<p>An' after he'd a-turn'd age&auml;n,</p>
+<p>To let me goo along the le&auml;ne,</p>
+<p>He had noo little bwoy to vill</p>
+<p>His last white e&auml;rms, an' they stood still.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p450" id="p450"></a>
+
+<h4>THE BETTER VOR ZE&Egrave;N O' YOU.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Twer good what Me&auml;ster Collins spoke</p>
+<p>O' spite to two poor spitevul vo'k,</p>
+<p>When woone twold tother o' the two</p>
+<p>"I be never the better vor ze&egrave;n o' you."</p>
+<p>If soul to soul, as Christians should,</p>
+<p>Would always try to do zome good,</p>
+<p>"How vew," he cried, "would zee our fe&auml;ce</p>
+<p>A-brighten'd up wi' smiles o' gre&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>An' tell us, or could tell us true,</p>
+<p>I be never the better vor ze&egrave;n o' you."</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A man mus' be in evil ce&auml;se</p>
+<p>To live 'ithin a land o' gre&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>Wi' noth&egrave;n that a soul can read</p>
+<p>O' goodness in his word or deed;</p>
+<p>To still a breast a-heav'd wi' sighs,</p>
+<p>Or dry the tears o' weep&egrave;n eyes;</p>
+<p>To sta&yuml; a vist that spite ha' wrung,</p>
+<p>Or cool the het ov anger's tongue:</p>
+<p>Or bless, or help, or gi'e, or lend;</p>
+<p>Or to the friendless stand a friend,</p>
+<p>An' zoo that all could tell en true,</p>
+<p>"I be never the better vor ze&egrave;n o' you."</p></div>
+<a name="page451" id="page451"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;451]</span>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! no, mid all o's try to spend</p>
+<p>Our pass&egrave;n time to zome good end,</p>
+<p>An' zoo vrom day to day te&auml;ke heed,</p>
+<p>By mind, an' han', by word or deed;</p>
+<p>To lessen evil, and increase</p>
+<p>The growth o' righteousness an' pe&auml;ce,</p>
+<p>A-speak&egrave;n words o' lov&egrave;n-kindness,</p>
+<p>Open&egrave;n the eyes o' blindness;</p>
+<p>Help&egrave;n helpless striver's weakness,</p>
+<p>Cheer&egrave;n hopeless grievers' meekness,</p>
+<p>Me&auml;k&egrave;n friends at every meet&egrave;n,</p>
+<p>Veel the happier vor their greet&egrave;n;</p>
+<p>Zoo that vew could tell us true,</p>
+<p>"I be never the better vor ze&egrave;n o' you."</p>
+<p>No, let us even try to win</p>
+<p>Zome little good vrom sons o' sin,</p>
+<p>An' let their evils warn us back</p>
+<p>Vrom te&auml;k&egrave;n on their hopeless track,</p>
+<p>Where we mid zee so clear's the zun</p>
+<p>That harm a-done is harm a-won,</p>
+<p>An' we mid cry an' tell em true,</p>
+<p>"I be even the better vor ze&egrave;n o' you."</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p451" id="p451"></a>
+
+<h4>PITY.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Good Me&auml;ster Collins! aye, how mild he spoke</p>
+<p>Woone day o' Mercy to zome cruel vo'k.</p>
+<p>"No, no. Have Mercy on a helpless head,</p>
+<p>An' don't be cruel to a zoul," he zaid.</p>
+<p>"When Babylon's king woonce cast 'ithin</p>
+<p class="i2">The viery furnace, in his spite,</p>
+<p>The vetter'd souls whose only sin</p>
+<p class="i2">Wer pra&yuml;er to the God o' might,</p>
+<p>He vound a fourth, 'ithout a ne&auml;me,</p>
+<p>A-walk&egrave;n wi' em in the fle&auml;me.</p><a name="page452" id="page452"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;452]</span>
+<p>An' zoo, whenever we mid hurt,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom spite, or vrom disda&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>A brother's soul, or me&auml;ke en smert</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' keen an' needless pa&iuml;n,</p>
+<p>Another that we midden know</p>
+<p>Is always wi' en in his woe.</p>
+<p>Vor you do know our Lord ha' cried,</p>
+<p>"By fa&iuml;th my bretheren do bide</p>
+<p>In me the liv&egrave;n vine,</p>
+<p class="i2">As branches in a liv&egrave;n tree;</p>
+<p>Whatever you've a-done to mine</p>
+<p class="i2">Is all a-done to me.</p>
+<p>Oh! when the new-born child, the e'th's new guest,</p>
+<p>Do lie an' heave his little breast,</p>
+<p>In pillow'd sleep, wi' sweetest breath</p>
+<p>O' sinless days drough rwosy lips a-drawn;</p>
+<p>Then, if a han' can smite en in his dawn</p>
+<p>O' life to darksome death,</p>
+<p>Oh! where can Pity ever vwold</p>
+<p class="i2">Her wings o' swiftness vrom their holy flight,</p>
+<p>To le&auml;ve a heart o' flesh an' blood so cwold</p>
+<p class="i2">At such a touch&egrave;n zight?</p>
+<p>An' zoo mid meek-soul'd Pity still</p>
+<p>Be zent to check our evil will,</p>
+<p>An' keep the helpless soul from woe,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' hold the hardened heart vrom sin.</p>
+<p>Vor they that can but mercy show</p>
+<p class="i2">Shall all their Father's mercy win."</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="page453" id="page453"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;453]</span>
+
+<h4>JOHN BLOOM IN LON'ON.</h4>
+
+<h5>(<i>All true.</i>)</h5>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>John Bloom he wer a jolly soul,</p>
+<p class="i2">A grinder o' the best o' meal,</p>
+<p>Bezide a river that did roll,</p>
+<p class="i2">Vrom week to week, to push his wheel.</p>
+<p>His flour wer all a-me&auml;de o' wheat;</p>
+<p>An' fit for bread that vo'k mid eat;</p>
+<p>Vor he would starve avore he'd cheat.</p>
+<p>"'Tis pure," woone woman cried;</p>
+<p>"Aye, sure," woone mwore replied;</p>
+<p>"You'll vind it nice. Buy woonce, buy twice,"</p>
+<p>Cried worthy Bloom the miller.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Athirt the chest he wer so wide</p>
+<p class="i2">As two or dree ov me or you.</p>
+<p>An' wider still vrom zide to zide,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' I do think still thicker drough.</p>
+<p>Vall down, he coulden, he did lie</p>
+<p>When he wer up on-zide so high</p>
+<p>As up on-end or perty nigh.</p>
+<p>"Me&auml;ke room," woone na&iuml;ghbour cried;</p>
+<p>"'Tis Bloom," woone mwore replied;</p>
+<p>"Good morn t'ye all, bwoth girt an' small,"</p>
+<p>Cried worthy Bloom the miller.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Noo stings o' conscience ever broke</p>
+<p class="i2">His rest, a-twit&egrave;n o'n wi' wrong,</p>
+<p>Zoo he did sleep till morn&egrave;n broke,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' birds did call en wi' their zong.</p>
+<p>But he did love a harmless joke,</p>
+<p>An' love his even&egrave;n whiff o' smoke,</p>
+<p>A-zitt&egrave;n in his che&auml;ir o' woak.</p><a name="page454" id="page454"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;454]</span>
+<p>"Your cup," his daughter cried;</p>
+<p>"Vill'd up," his wife replied;</p>
+<p>"Aye, aye; a drap avore my nap,"</p>
+<p>Cried worthy Bloom the miller.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When Lon'on vok did me&auml;ke a show</p>
+<p class="i2">O' their girt glassen house woone year,</p>
+<p>An' people went, bwoth high an' low,</p>
+<p class="i2">To zee the zight, vrom vur an' near,</p>
+<p>"O well," cried Bloom, "why I've a right</p>
+<p>So well's the rest to zee the zight;</p>
+<p>I'll goo, an' te&auml;ke the ra&iuml;l outright."</p>
+<p>"Your fe&auml;re," the booker cried;</p>
+<p>"There, there," good Bloom replied;</p>
+<p>"Why this June het do me&auml;ke woone zweat,"</p>
+<p>Cried worthy Bloom the miller,</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Then up the guard did whissle sh'ill,</p>
+<p class="i2">An' then the engine pank'd a-blast,</p>
+<p>An' rottled on so loud's a mill,</p>
+<p class="i2">Avore the tra&iuml;n, vrom slow to vast.</p>
+<p>An' oh! at last how they did spank</p>
+<p>By cutt&egrave;n deep, an' high-cast bank</p>
+<p>The while their iron ho'se did pank.</p>
+<p>"Do whizzy," woone o'm cried;</p>
+<p>"I'm dizzy," woone replied;</p>
+<p>"Aye, here's the road to hawl a lwoad,"</p>
+<p>Cried worthy Bloom the miller.</p></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In Lon'on John zent out to call</p>
+<p class="i2">A tidy trap, that he mid ride</p>
+<p>To zee the glassen house, an' all</p>
+<p class="i2">The lot o' things a-stow'd inside.</p>
+<p>"Here, Boots, come here," cried he, "I'll dab</p>
+<p>A sixpence in your han' to nab</p>
+<p>Down street a tidy little cab."</p><a name="page455" id="page455"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;455]</span>
+<p>"A fe&auml;re," the boots then cried;</p>
+<p>"I'm there," the man replied.</p>
+<p>"The glassen ple&auml;ce, your quickest pe&auml;ce,"</p>
+<p>Cried worthy Bloom the miller.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>The steps went down wi' rottl&egrave;n slap,</p>
+<p class="i2">The zwing&egrave;n door went open wide:</p>
+<p>Wide? no; vor when the worthy chap</p>
+<p class="i2">Stepp'd up to te&auml;ke his ple&auml;ce inside,</p>
+<p>Breast-foremost, he wer twice too wide</p>
+<p>Vor thik there door. An' then he tried</p>
+<p>To edge in woone an' tother zide.</p>
+<p>"'Twont do," the drever cried;</p>
+<p>"Can't goo," good Bloom replied;</p>
+<p>"That you should bring the&auml;se vooty thing!"</p>
+<p>Cried worthy Bloom the miller.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"Come," cried the drever. "Pay your fe&auml;re</p>
+<p class="i2">You'll te&auml;ke up all my time, good man."</p>
+<p>"Well," answer'd Bloom, "to me&auml;ke that square,</p>
+<p class="i2">You te&auml;ke up me, then, if you can."</p>
+<p>"I come at call," the man did nod.</p>
+<p>"What then?" cried Bloom, "I han't a-rod,</p>
+<p>An' can't in thik there hodmadod."</p>
+<p>"Girt lump," the drever cried;</p>
+<p>"Small stump," good Bloom replied;</p>
+<p>"A little mite, to me&auml;ke so light,</p>
+<p>O' jolly Bloom the miller."</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"You'd best be off now perty quick,"</p>
+<p class="i2">Cried Bloom. "an' vind a lighter lwoad,</p>
+<p>Or else I'll vetch my voot, an' kick</p>
+<p class="i2">The vooty thing athirt the road."</p>
+<p>"Who is the man?" they cried, "me&auml;ke room,"</p>
+<p>"A halfstarv'd Do'set man," cried Bloom;</p><a name="page456" id="page456"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;456]</span>
+<p>"You be?" another cried;</p>
+<p>"Hee! Hee!" woone mwore replied.</p>
+<p>"Aye, shrunk so thin, to bwone an' skin,"</p>
+<p>Cried worthy Bloom the miller.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p456" id="p456"></a>
+
+<h4>A LOT O' MA&Iuml;DENS A-RUNN&Egrave;N THE VIELDS.<a href="#p456n"><sup>*</sup></a></h4>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Come on. &nbsp;&nbsp;Be sprack, a-lagg&egrave;n back."</p>
+<p>"Oh! be there any cows to hook?"</p>
+<p>"Lauk she's afra&iuml;d, a silly ma&iuml;d,"</p>
+<p>Cows? &nbsp;&nbsp;No, the cows be down by brook.</p>
+<p>"O here then, oh! here is a lot."</p>
+<p>"A lot o' what? what is it? what?"</p>
+<p>"Why blackberries, as thick</p>
+<p>As ever they can stick."</p>
+<p>"I've dewberries, oh! twice</p>
+<p>As good as they; so nice."</p>
+<p>"Look here. &nbsp;&nbsp;The&auml;se boughs be all but blue</p>
+<p>Wi' snags."</p>
+<p class="i12">  "Oh! gi'e me down a vew."</p>
+<p>"Come here, oh! do but look."</p>
+<p>"What's that? what is it now?"</p>
+<p>"Why nuts a-slipp&egrave;n shell."</p>
+<p>"Hee! hee! pull down the bough."</p>
+<p>"I wish I had a crook."</p>
+<p>"There zome o'm be a-vell."</p>
+<p>(<i>One sings</i>)</p>
+<p class="i12">  "I wish I was on Bimport Hill</p>
+<p>I would zit down and cry my vill."</p>
+<p>"Hee! hee! there's Jenny zomewhere nigh,</p>
+<p>A-zing&egrave;n that she'd like to cry."</p><a name="page457" id="page457"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;457]</span>
+<p>(<i>Jenny sings</i>)</p>
+<p class="i12">"I would zit down and cry my vill</p>
+<p>Until my tears would dreve a mill."</p>
+<p>"Oh! here's an ugly crawl&egrave;n thing,</p>
+<p>A sne&auml;ke." &nbsp;&nbsp;"A slooworm; he wont sting."</p>
+<p>"Hee! hee! how she did squal an' hop,</p>
+<p>A-spinn&egrave;n roun' so quick's a top."</p>
+<p>"Look here, oh! quick, be quick."</p>
+<p>"What is it? what then? where?"</p>
+<p>"A rabbit." &nbsp;&nbsp;"No, a he&auml;re."</p>
+<p>"Ooh! ooh! the thorns do prick,"</p>
+<p>"How he did scote along the ground</p>
+<p>As if he wer avore a hound."</p>
+<p>"Now mind the thistles." &nbsp;&nbsp;"Hee, hee, hee,</p>
+<p>Why they be knapweeds."</p>
+<p>"No." &nbsp;&nbsp;"They be."</p>
+<p>"I've zome'hat in my shoe."</p>
+<p>"Zit down, an' she&auml;ke it out."</p>
+<p>"Oh! emmets, oh! ooh, ooh,</p>
+<p>A-crawl&egrave;n all about."</p>
+<p>"What bird is that, O harken, hush.</p>
+<p>How sweetly he do zing."</p>
+<p>"A nightinge&auml;le." &nbsp;&nbsp;"La! no, a drush."</p>
+<p>"Oh! here's a funny thing."</p>
+<p>"Oh! how the bull do hook,</p>
+<p>An' ble&auml;re, an' fling the dirt."</p>
+<p>"Oh! wont he come athirt?"</p>
+<p>"No, he's beyond the brook."</p>
+<p>"O lauk! a hornet rose</p>
+<p>Up clwose avore my nose."</p>
+<p>"Oh! what wer that so white</p>
+<p>Rush'd out o' thik tree's top?"</p>
+<p>"An owl." &nbsp;&nbsp;"How I did hop,</p>
+<p>How I do she&auml;ke wi' fright."</p>
+<p>"A musheroom." &nbsp;&nbsp;"O lau!</p><a name="page458" id="page458"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;458]</span>
+<p class="i2">A twoadstool! &nbsp;&nbsp;Pwoison! &nbsp;&nbsp;Augh."</p>
+<p>"What's that, a mouse?"</p>
+<p class="i18">              "O no,</p>
+<p>Te&auml;ke ce&auml;re, why 'tis a shrow."</p>
+<p>"Be sure don't let en come</p>
+<p>An' run athirt your shoe</p>
+<p>He'll me&auml;ke your voot so numb</p><a name="p458" id="p458"></a>
+<p>That you wont veel a tooe."<a href="#p458n"><sup style="font-size: 0.7em;">&dagger;</sup></a></p>
+<p>"Oh! what wer that so loud</p>
+<p>A-rumbl&egrave;n?" &nbsp;&nbsp;"Why a clap</p>
+<p>O' thunder. &nbsp;&nbsp;Here's a cloud</p>
+<p>O' ra&iuml;n. &nbsp;&nbsp;I veel a drap."</p>
+<p>"A thunderstorm. &nbsp;&nbsp;Do ra&iuml;n.</p>
+<p>Run hwome wi' might an' main."</p>
+<p>"Hee! hee! oh! there's a drop</p>
+<p>A-tr&iuml;ckled down my back. &nbsp;&nbsp;Hee! hee!"</p>
+<p>"My head's as wet's a mop."</p>
+<p>"Oh! thunder," "there's a crack. &nbsp;&nbsp;Oh! Oh!"</p>
+<p>"Oh! I've a-got the stitch, Oh!"</p>
+<p>"Oh! I've a-lost my shoe, Oh!"</p>
+<p>"There's Fanny into ditch, Oh!"</p>
+<p>"I'm wet all drough an' drough, Oh!"</p>
+  </div>
+  </div><br /><br />
+
+<a name="p456n" id="p456n"></a>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;"><a href="#p456"><sup>*</sup></a> The idea, though but little of the substance, of this poem,</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span style="font-size: smaller;">will be found in a little Italian poem called <i>Caccia</i>, written</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span style="font-size: smaller;">by Franco Sacchetti.</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="p458n" id="p458n"></a>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span style="font-size: smaller;"><a href="#p458"><sup>&dagger;</sup></a> The folklore is, that if a shrew-mouse run over a person's</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span style="font-size: smaller;">foot, it will lame him.</span></p>
+</div>
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/fancy_rule.png" width="210" height="40" alt="fancy rule" border="0" />
+</div>
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<a name="page459" id="page459"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;459]</span>
+
+
+<h3>A LIST </h3>
+
+<h5>OF </h5>
+
+<h2>SOME DORSET WORDS</h2><br />
+
+<h3>WITH A FEW HINTS ON DORSET WORD-SHAPES.</h3><br />
+
+
+
+<h4>THE MAIN SOUNDS.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>1. <i>ee</i> in beet.</p>
+<p>2. <i>e</i> in Dorset (a sound between 1 and 3.)</p>
+<p>3. <i>a</i> in mate.</p>
+<p>4. <i>i</i> in birth.</p>
+<p>5. <i>a</i> in father.</p>
+<p>6. <i>aw</i> in awe.</p>
+<p>7. <i>o</i> in dote.</p>
+<p>8. <i>oo</i> in rood.</p>
+  </div>
+  </div>
+
+<p>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 <i>dreaten</i>, he may try for <i>dr</i>, <i>thr</i>, which
+will bring out <i>threaten</i>.
+See <i>Dr</i> under <i>D</i>.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center">
+<a href="#A">A</a> | <a href="#B">B</a> | <a href="#C">C</a> | <a href="#D">D</a> |
+<a href="#E">E</a> | <a href="#F">F</a> | <a href="#G">G</a> | <a href="#H">H</a> |
+<a href="#J">J</a> | <a href="#K">K</a> | <a href="#L">L</a> | <a href="#M">M</a> |
+<a href="#N">N</a> |<a href="#O">O</a> | <a href="#P">P</a> | <a href="#Q">Q</a> |
+<a href="#R">R</a> | <a href="#S">S</a> | <a href="#T">T</a> | <a href="#U">U</a> |
+<a href="#V">V</a> | <a href="#W">W</a> | <a href="#Y">Y</a> |<a href="#Z">Z</a>
+<br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<br />
+	<a name="A" id="A"></a>
+	<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>A.</h4></li>
+
+<li><i>a</i> in father, and <i>au</i> in daughter are, in "Blackmore," often <i>a</i> = 3.
+<ul class="index1"><li>So king Alfred gives a legacy to his <i>yldsta dehter</i>&mdash;oldest daehter.</li>
+<li><i>a</i> is a fore-eking to participles of a fore time, as <i>a-vound</i>;</li>
+<li>also for the Anglo-Saxon <i>an</i>, <i>in</i> or <i>on</i>, as <i>a-hunt&egrave;n</i> for
+<i>an huntunge</i>.</li>
+ <li><i>a&iuml;</i>, <i>a&yuml;</i> (5, 1), Ma&iuml;d, Ma&yuml;. (<i>Note</i>&mdash;The numbers (as 5, 1) refer to the
+foregiven table.)</li>
+  <li><i>ag</i>, often for <i>eg</i>, as bag, agg, beg, egg.</li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Anewst</i>,  <i>Anighst</i>,  very near, or nearly.</li>
+<li>
+<i>A'r a</i>, ever a, as.</li>
+<li>
+<i>A'r a dog</i>, ever a dog.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Amper</i>, pus.</li>
+<li>
+<i>A'r'n</i>, e'er a one.</li>
+<li>
+<i>A-stooded</i> (as a waggon), with wheels sunk fast into rotten ground.</li>
+<li>
+<i>A-stogged</i>, <i>A-stocked</i>, with feet stuck fast in clay.</li>
+<li>
+<i>A-strout</i>, stiff stretched.</li>
+<li>
+<i>A-thirt</i>, athwart (<i>th</i> soft).</li>
+<li>
+<i>A-vore</i>, afore, before.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ax</i>, ask.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Axan</i>, ashes (of fire).</li>
+<li>
+<i>A-zew</i>, dry, milkless.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="B" id="B"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+<li><h4>B.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Backbran' (brand)</i>, <i>Backbron' (brond)</i>, A big brand or block of wood put on the back of the fire.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ballywrag</i>, scold.<a name="page460" id="page460"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;460]</span></li>
+<li>
+<i>Bandy</i>, a long stick with a bent end to beat abroad cow-dung.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Barken</i>, <i>Barton</i>, a stack-yard or cow yard.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bav&egrave;n</i>, a faggot of long brushwood.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Be&auml;'nhan'</i> (1, 3, 5), bear in hand, uphold or maintain, as an opinion or otherwise.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Be&auml;t</i> (1, 4), <i>up</i>, to beat one's way up.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bennets</i>, flower-stalks of grass.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Be'th</i>, birth.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bibber</i>, to shake with cold.
+  <ul class="index1"><li>[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.
+  <i>See</i> Eltrot.]</li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Bissen</i>, thou bist not.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bittle</i>, a beetle.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Blatch</i>, black stuff; smut.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Blather</i>, a bladder.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ble&auml;re</i> (1, 3), to low as a cow.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Blind-buck o' Davy</i>, blindman's buff.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bloodywarrior</i>, the ruddy Stock gilliflower.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bloo&egrave;ns</i>, blossoms.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Blooth</i>, blossom in the main.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bluevinny</i>, blue mouldy.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Brack</i>, a breach. "Neither brack nor crack in it."</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bran'</i>, a brand.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Brant&egrave;n</i>, brazen-faced.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bring-gwa&iuml;n</i> (Bring-going), to bring one on his way.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Brocks</i>, broken pieces (as of food).</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bron'</i>, a brand.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bruckly</i>, <i>Bruckle</i>, brittle.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bundle</i>, to bound off; go away quickly.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Bu'st</i>, burst.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="C" id="C"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+<li><h4>C.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Caddle</i>, a muddle; a puzzling plight amid untoward things, such that a man knows not what to do first.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Car</i>, to carry.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Cassen</i>, <i>casn</i>, canst not.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Chanker</i>, a wide chink.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Charlick</i>, <i>charlock</i>, field-mustard; <i>Sinapis arvensis</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Charm</i>, a noise as of many voices.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Choor</i>, <i>a chare</i>, a (weekly) job as of house work.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Chuck</i>, to throw underhanded to a point, or for a catch.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Clack</i>, <i>Clacker</i>, a bird-clacker; a bird-boy's clacking tool, to fray away birds; also the tongue.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Clavy</i>, <i>Clavy-bwoard</i>, the mantel-shelf.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Cl&egrave;den</i>, cleavers, goosegrass; <i>Galium aparine.</i></li>
+<li>
+<i>Clips</i>, to clasp.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Clitty</i>, clingy.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Clocks</i>, ornaments on the ankles of stockings.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Clom'</i>, clomb, climbed.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Clote</i>, the yellow water-lily; <i>Nuphar lutea</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Clout</i>, a blow with the flat hand.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Clum</i>, to handle clumsily.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Cluster o' vive</i> (cluster of five), the fist or hand with its five fingers; wording taken from a cluster of nuts.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Cockle</i>, <i>Cuckle</i>, the bur of the burdock.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Cockleshell</i>, snail shell.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Colepexy</i>, to glean the few apples left on the tree after intaking.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Coll</i> (7), to embrace the neck.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Conker</i>, the hip, or hep; the fruit of the briar.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Cothe</i>, <i>coath</i> (<i>th</i> soft), a disease of sheep, the plaice or flook, a flat worm <i>Distoma nepaticum</i> in the stomach.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Cou'den</i>, could not.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Coussen</i>, <i>Coossen</i>, <i>coosn,</i> couldest not.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Craze</i>, to crack a little.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Critch</i>, a big pitcher.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Crock</i>, an iron cooking-pot.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Croodle</i>, to crow softly.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Croop</i>, <i>Croopy-down</i>, to bend down the body; to stoop very low.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Crope</i>, crept.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Crowshell</i>, shell of the fresh-water mussel, as taken out of the river for food by crows.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Cubby-hole</i>, <i>Cubby-house</i>, between the father's knees.<a name="page461" id="page461"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;461]</span></li>
+<li>
+<i>Culver</i>, the wood pigeon.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Cutty</i>, <i>Cut</i>, the kittywren.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Cwe&iuml;n</i>, <i>Cwo&iuml;n</i>, (4, 1) coin.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Cwoffer</i> (8, 4, 4), a coffer.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="D" id="D"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>D.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Dadder</i>, <i>dather</i>, <i>dudder</i>, to maze or bewilder.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dag</i>, <i>childag</i>, a chilblain.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dake</i>, to ding or push forth.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Daps</i>, the very likeness, as that of a cast from the same mould.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dather</i>, see <i>Dadder</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dent</i>, a dint.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dewberry</i>, a big kind of blackberry.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dibs</i>, coins; but truly, the small knee bones of a sheep used in the game of Dibs.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Didden (didn)</i>, did not.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Do</i>, the <i>o</i>, when not under a strain of voice, is (4) as <i>e</i> in 'the man' or as <i>e</i> in the French <i>le</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dod</i>, a dump.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dogs</i>, andirons.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Don</i>, to put on.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Doust</i>, dust.</li>
+<li>
+<i>dr</i> for <i>thr</i> in some words, as Drash, thresh.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Drashel</i>, threshold.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dreaten</i>, threaten.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dree</i>, three.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dringe</i>, <i>Drunge</i>, to throng; push as in a throng.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Droat</i>, throat.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Drong</i>, throng; also a narrow way.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Drough</i>, through.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Drow</i>, throw.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Drub</i>, throb.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Drush</i>, thrush.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Drust</i>, thrust.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Drean</i>, <i>Dr&egrave;ne</i> (2), to drawl.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dr&egrave;ve</i> (2), drive.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Duck</i>, a darkening, dusk.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dumbledore</i>, the humble bee.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dummet</i>, dusk.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dunch</i>, dull of hearing, or mind.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dunch-nettle</i>, the dead nettle, <i>Lamium</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dunch-pudden</i>, pudding of bare dough.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dungpot</i>, a dungcart.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Dunt</i>, to blunten as an edge or pain.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Durns</i>, the side posts of a door.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="E" id="E"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>E.</h4></li>
+<li>
+  long itself alone has mostly the Dorset sound (2.)</li>
+<li>
+<i>e&auml;</i> (1, 4) for <i>ea</i>, with the <i>a</i> unsounded as lead, mead, le&auml;d, me&auml;d.</li>
+<li>
+<i>e&auml;</i> (1, 3) for the long <i>a</i>, 3, as in lade, made, le&auml;de, me&auml;de.</li>
+<li>
+<i>ea</i> of one sound (2) as meat.</li>
+<li>
+<i>e</i> is put in before s after st, as nestes, nests, vistes, fists.
+<ul class="index1"><li>
+The two sundry soundings of <i>ea</i> 2 and 3 do not go by our spelling <i>ea</i> for both,
+but have come from earlier forms of the words.</li>
+<li>
+After a roof letter it may stay as it is, a roof letter, as madden, madd'n; rotten, rott'n.
+So with <i>en</i> for him, tell en, tell'n.</li>
+<li>
+The <i>en</i> 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.</li>
+<li>
+<i>en</i>&mdash;not <i>&egrave;n</i>&mdash;in Dorset, as well as in book English, as an ending of  some kinds of
+words often, in running talk, loses the <i>e</i>, 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 <i>m</i>, 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 <i>f'</i>,
+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, <i>ng</i>, as token, tok'n, tok'ng.
+<ul class="index2"><li>
+<i>&#275;</i> (2).</li></ul></li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Eegrass</i>, aftermath.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Eltrot</i>, Eltroot, cowparsley (<i>Myrrhis</i>). [Elt is Freisic, robustus,<a name="page462" id="page462"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;462]</span>
+vegetus, as cowparsley is among other kinds.] <i>See</i> Bibber.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Emmet</i>, an ant.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Emmetbut</i>, an anthill.</li>
+<li>
+<i>En</i>, him; A.-Saxon, <i>hine</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>&Egrave;n</i>, for ing, zing&egrave;n, singing.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Eve</i>, to become wet as a cold stone floor from thickened steam in some weather.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Evet</i>, eft, newt.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Exe</i>, an axle.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="F" id="F"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>F.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Fakket</i>, a faggot.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Fall</i>, autumn; to fall down is <i>vall</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Fa&yuml;</i> (5, 1) to speed, succeed.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Fe&auml;st</i> (1, 4), a village wake or festival; <i>festa</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Flag</i>, a water plant.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Flinders</i>, flying pieces of a body smashed; "Hit it all to flinders."</li>
+<li>
+<i>Flounce</i>, a flying fall as into water.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Flout</i>, a flinging, or blow of one.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Flush</i>, fledged.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Footy</i>, unhandily little.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="G" id="G"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>G.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Gally</i>, to frighten, fray.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Gee</i>, <i>jee</i>, to go, fit, speed.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Giddygander</i>, the meadow orchis.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Gil'cup</i>, gilt cup, the buttercup.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Girt</i>, great.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Gl&#275;ne</i> (2), to smile sneeringly.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Glutch</i>, to swallow.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Gnang</i>, to mock one with jaw waggings, and noisy sounds.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Gnot</i>, a gnat.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Goo</i>, go.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Goocoo flower</i>, <i>Cardamine pratensis</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Goodnow</i>, goodn'er, good neighbour; my good friend; "No, no; not I, goodnow;" "No, no; not I, my good friend."</li>
+<li>
+<i>Goolden chain</i>, the laburnum.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Gout</i>, an underground gutter.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Grægle</i>, <i>Greygle</i>, the wild hyacinth, <i>Hyacinthus nonscriptus</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Gramfer</i>, grandfather.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ground-ash</i>, 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.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Gwoad</i> (8, 4), a goad.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="H" id="H"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>H.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Hacker</i>, a hoe.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hagrod</i>, hagridden in sleep, if not under the nightmare.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ha&iuml;n</i> (5, 1), to fence in ground or shut up a field for mowing.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ha'me</i>, see <i>Hau'm</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hang&egrave;n</i>, sloping ground.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hansel</i>, <i>Handsel</i>, a hand gift.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hansel</i>, <i>Handsel</i>, to use a new thing for the first time.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Happer</i>, 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.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Haps</i>, a hasp.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ha'skim</i>, halfskim cheese of milk skimmed only once.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hassen</i>, hast not.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Haum</i>, <i>Hulm</i>, <i>Haulm</i>, the hollow stalks of plants. <i>Te&auml;tie haum</i> potatoe stalks.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hatch</i>, a low wicket or half door.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ha&yuml;me&auml;k&egrave;n</i>, haymaking.
+<ul class="index1"><li>
+The steps of haymaking by hand, in the
+rich meadow lands of Blackmore, ere
+machines were brought into the field, were
+these:&mdash;The grass being mown, and laying
+in <i>swath</i> it was (1) <i>tedded</i>, spread evenly
+over the ground; (2) it was <i>turned</i> to dry
+the under side; (3) it was in the evening
+raked up into <i>rollers</i>, 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 <i>pa'sels</i> (parcels) or broad
+lists, with clear ground between each two;
+(5) the parcels were turned, and when dry
+they were pushed up into <i>we&auml;les</i> (weales)
+or long ridges, and, with a fear of rain, the
+we&auml;les were put up into <i>pooks</i>, or big peaked
+heaps; the waggon (often called the <i>plow</i>)
+came along between two we&auml;les 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.<a name="page463" id="page463"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;463]</span></li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Hazen</i>, to forebode.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hazzle</i>, hazel.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Heal</i> (2), hide, to cover.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Heal pease</i>, to hoe up the earth on them.</li>
+<li>
+<i>He&auml;n</i> (1, 4), a haft, handle.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Heft</i>, weight.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Herence</i>, hence.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Here right</i>, here on the spot, etc.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Het</i>, heat, also a heat in running.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Het</i>, to hit.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Heth</i>, a hearth, a heath.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hick</i>, to hop on one leg.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hidelock</i>, <i>Hidlock</i>,  a hiding place. "He is in hidelock." He is absconded.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hidybuck</i>, hide-and-seek, the game.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hile of Sheaves</i>, ten, 4 against 4 in a ridge, and 1 at each end.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ho</i>, to feel misgiving care.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hodmadod</i>, a little dod or dump; in some parts of England a snail.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Holm</i>, ho'me, holly.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hook</i>, to gore as a cow.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Honeyzuck</i>, honeysuckle.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ho'se-tinger</i>, the dragon-fly, <i>Libellula</i>.
+<ul class="index1"><li><i>Horse</i> 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 <i>tang</i>, 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.</li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Hud</i>, a pod, a hood-like thing.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ho'se</i>, hoss, a board on which a ditcher may stand in a wet ditch.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Huddick</i> (hoodock), a fingerstall.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Hull</i>, a pod, a hollow thing.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Humbuz</i>, a notched strip of lath, swung round on a string, and humming or buzzing.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Humstrum</i>, a rude, home made musical instrument, now given up.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="J" id="J"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>J.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Jack-o'-lent</i>, a man-like scarecrow.
+  <ul class="index1"><li>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.</li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Jist</i>, just.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Jut</i>, to nudge or jog quickly.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="K" id="K"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>K.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Kag</i>, a keg.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Kapple cow</i>, a cow with a white muzzle.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Kern</i>, to grow into fruit.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ketch</i>, <i>Katch</i>, to thicken or harden from thinness, as melted fat.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Kecks</i>, <i>Kex</i>,  a stem of the hemlock or cowparsley.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Keys</i>, (2), the seed vessels of the sycamore.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Kid</i>, a pod, as of the pea.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Kittyboots</i>, low uplaced boots, a little more than ancle high.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Knap</i>, a hillock, a head, or knob, (2.) a knob-like bud, as of the potatoe.  "The te&auml;ties be out in knap."</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="L" id="L"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>L.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>L&auml;iter</i> (5, 1), one run of laying of a hen.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Le&auml;n</i> (1, 4), to lean.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Le&auml;ne</i> (1, 3), a lane.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Le&auml;se</i> (1, 4), to glean.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Le&auml;se</i> (1, 4), <i>Le&auml;ze</i>,  an unmown field, stocked through the Spring and Summer.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Leer</i>, <i>Leery</i>, empty.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Lence</i>, a loan, a lending.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Levers</i>, <i>Livers</i>, the corn flag.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Lew</i>, sheltered from cold wind.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Lewth</i>, lewness.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Libbets</i>, loose-hanging rags.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Limber</i>, limp.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Linch</i>, <i>Linchet</i>, a ledge on a hill-side.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Litsome</i>, lightsome, gay.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Litty</i>, light and brisk of body.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Lo't</i> (7), loft, an upper floor.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Lowl</i>, to loll loosely.<a name="page464" id="page464"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;464]</span></li>
+<li>
+<i>Lumper</i>, a loose step.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="M" id="M"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>M.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Maesh</i> (2), <i>Mesh</i>, (Blackmore) moss, also a hole or run of a hare, fox, or other wild animal.</li>
+ <li>
+<i>Mammet</i>, an image, scarecrow.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Marrels</i>, <i>Merrels</i>, The game of nine men's morris.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Mawn</i>, m&#257;n, (5) a kind of basket.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Me&auml;den</i> (1, 4), stinking chamomile.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ment</i> (2), to imitate, be like.</li>
+<li>
+<i>M&#275;sh</i>, (2) moss.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Mid</i>, might.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Miff</i>, a slight feud, a tiff.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Min</i> (2), observe. You must know.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Mither ho</i>, come hither. A call to a horse on the road.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Moot</i>, the bottom and roots of a felled tree.</li>
+<li>
+<i>More</i>, a root, taproot.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Muggy</i>, misty, damp (weather).</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="N" id="N"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+<li><h4>N</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Na'r a</i>, never a (man).</li>
+<li>
+<i>Nar'n</i>, never a one.</li>
+<li>
+<i>N'eet</i>, not yet.</li>
+<li>
+<i>N&#275;sh</i> (2), soft.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Nesthooden</i>, a hooding over a bird's nest, as a wren's.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Netl&egrave;ns</i>, a food of a pig's inwards tied in knots.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Never'stide</i>, never at all.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Nicky</i>, a very small fagot of sticks.</li>
+<li>
+<i>N&iuml;ppy</i>, hungry, catchy.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Nitch</i>, a big fagot of wood; a load; a fagot of wood which custom allows a hedger to carry home at night.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Not</i> (hnot or knot), hornless.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Nother</i>, neither (adverb).</li>
+<li>
+<i>Nunch</i>, a nog or knob of food.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Nut</i> (of a wheel), the stock or nave.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="O" id="O"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>O.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>O'</i>, of.</li>
+<li>
+<i>O'm</i> (2), of em, them.</li>
+<li>
+<i>O'n</i> (2), of him.</li>
+<li>
+<i>O's</i> (2), of us.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Orts</i>, leavings of hay put out in little heaps in the fields for the cows.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Over-right</i>, opposite.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Oves</i>, eaves.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="P" id="P"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>P.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Paladore</i>, a traditional name of Shaftesbury, the British <i>Caer Paladr</i>,
+<ul class="index1"><li>said by British history to have been founded by <i>Rhun Paladr-bras</i>, 'Rhun of the stout spear.'</li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Pank</i>, pant.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Par</i>, to shut up close; confine.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Parrick</i>, a small enclosed field; a paddock&mdash;but paddock was an old word for a toad or frog.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Pa'sels</i>, parcels. <i>See</i> Ha&yuml;me&auml;k&egrave;n.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Pe&auml;rt</i> (1, 4), pert; lively.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Peaze</i>, <i>Peeze</i> (2), to ooze.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Peewit</i>, the lapwing.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Pitch</i>.  <i>See</i> Ha&yuml;me&auml;k&egrave;n.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Plesh</i>, (2) <i>Plush</i> (a hedge), to lay it.
+ <ul class="index1"><li>To cut the stems half off and peg them down on the bank where they sprout upward.<br />
+  To plush, shear, and trim a hedge are sundry handlings of it.</li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Plim</i>, to swell up.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Plock</i>, a hard block of wood.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Plow</i>, a waggon, often so called.
+  <ul class="index1"><li>The plough or plow for ploughing is the Zull.</li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Plounce</i>, a strong plunge.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Pluffy</i>, plump.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Pont</i>, to hit a fish or fruit, so as to bring on a rotting.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Pooks</i>.  <i>See</i> Ha&yuml;me&auml;k&egrave;n.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Popple</i>, a pebble.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Pra&iuml;se</i> (5, 1), prize, to put forth or tell to others a pain or ailing.
+<ul class="index1"><li>"I had a ris&egrave;n on my e&auml;rm, but I didden pra&iuml;se it," say anything about it.</li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Pummy</i>, pomice.
+<ul class="index1"><li>
+   <i>ps</i> for <i>sp</i> in clasp, claps; hasp, haps; wasp, waps.</li></ul></li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="Q" id="Q"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>Q.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Quaer</i>, queer.<a name="page465" id="page465"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;465]</span></li>
+<li>
+<i>Quag</i>, a quaking bog.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Quar</i>, a quarry.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Quarrel</i>, a square window pane.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Quid</i>, a cud.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Quirk</i>, to grunt with the breath without the voice.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="R" id="R"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>R.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>R</i>, at the head of a word, is strongly breathed, as <i>Hr</i> in Anglo-Saxon, as <i>Hhrong</i>, the rong of a ladder.
+<ul class="index1"><li>
+<i>R</i> is given in Dorset by a rolling of the tongue back under the roof.</li>
+<li>
+For <i>or</i>, as an ending sometimes given before a free breathing, or <i>h</i>, try <i>ow</i>,&mdash;<i>hollor</i>, hollow.</li>
+<li>
+<i>R</i> before <i>s</i>, <i>st</i>, and <i>th</i> often goes out, as bu'st, burst; ve'ss, verse; be'th, birth; cu'st, curst;
+fwo'ce, force; me'th, mirth.</li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Raft</i>, to rouse, excite.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Rake</i>, to reek.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ram</i>, <i>Rammish</i>, rank of smell.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Rammil</i>, raw milk (cheese), of unskimmed milk.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ramsclaws</i>, the creeping crowfoot. <i>Ranunculus repens</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Randy</i>, a merry uproar or meeting.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Rangle</i>, to range or reach about.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Rathe</i>, early; whence rather.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ratch</i>, to stretch.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Readship</i>, criterion, counsel.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Re&auml;mes</i>, (1, 3),  skeleton, frame.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Re&auml;n</i> (1, 4), to reach in greedily in eating.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Re&auml;ves</i>, a frame of little rongs on the side of a waggon.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Reed</i> (2), wheat hulm drawn for thatching.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Reely</i>, to dance a reel.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Reem</i>, to stretch, broaden.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Rick</i>, a stack.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Rig</i>, to climb about.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Rivel</i>, shrivel; to wrinkle up.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Robin Hood</i>, The Red campion.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Roller</i> (6, 4). <i>See</i> Ha&yuml;me&auml;k&egrave;n.
+  <ul class="index1"><li>A Roller was also a little roll of wool from the card of a woolcomber.</li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Rottlepenny</i>, the yellow rattle. <i>Rhinanthus Crista-galli</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Rouet</i>, a rough tuft of grass.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="S" id="S"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>S.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Sammy</i>, soft, a soft head; simpleton.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sar</i>, to serve or give food to (cattle).</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sarch</i>, to search.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Scote</i>, to shoot along fast in running.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Scrag</i>, a crooked branch of a tree.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Scraggle</i>, to screw scramly about (of a man), to screw the limbs scramly as from rheumatism.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Scram</i>, distorted, awry.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Scroff</i>, bits of small wood or chips, as from windfalls or hedge plushing.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Scroop</i>, to skreak lowly as new shoes or a gate hinge.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Scud</i>, a sudden or short down-shooting of rain, a shower.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Scwo'ce</i>, chop or exchange.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Settle</i>, a long bench with a high planken back.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Shard</i>, a small gap in a hedge.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sharps</i>, shafts of a waggon.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Shatten</i>, shalt not.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Shroud</i> (trees), to cut off branches.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sheeted cow</i>, with a broad white band round her body.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Shoulden (Shoodn)</i>, should not.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Shrow</i>, <i>Sh'ow</i>, <i>Sh'ow-crop</i>, the shrew mouse.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Skim</i>,  <i>Skimmy</i>, grass; to cut off rank tuffs, or rouets.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sla&iuml;t</i>, (5, 1) <i>Slite</i>, a slade, or sheep run.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Slent</i>, a tear in clothes.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Slidder</i>, to slide about.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Slim</i>, sly.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sloo</i>, sloe.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Slooworm</i>, the slow-worm.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Smame</i>, to smear.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Smeech</i>, a cloud of dust.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Smert</i>, to smart; pain.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Snabble</i>, to snap up quickly.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Snags</i>, small pea-big sloes, also stumps.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sne&auml;d</i> (1, 4), a scythe stem.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Snoatch</i>, to breathe loudly through the nose.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Snoff</i>, a snuff of a candle.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sock</i>, a short loud sigh.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Spur (dung)</i>, to cast it abroad.<a name="page466" id="page466"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;466]</span></li>
+<li>
+<i>Squa&iuml;l</i> (5, 1), to fling something at a bird or ought else.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Squot</i>, to flatten by a blow.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sowel</i>, <i>Zowel</i>, a hurdle stake.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sparbill</i>,  <i>Sparrabill</i>, a kind of shoe nail.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Spars</i>, forked sticks used in thatching.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Spe&auml;ker</i> (1 4), a long spike of wood to bear the hedger's nitch on his shoulder.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Spears</i>, <i>Speers</i>, the stalks of reed grass.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Spik</i>, spike, lavender.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sprack</i>, active.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sprethe</i> (2), to chap as of the skin, from cold.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Spry</i>, springy in leaping, or limb work.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Staddle</i>, a bed or frame for ricks.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Sta&iuml;d</i> (5, 1), steady, oldish.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Stann&egrave;ns</i>, stalls in a fair or market.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ste&auml;n</i> (1, 4) (a road), to lay it in stone.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ste&auml;rt</i> (1, 4), a tail or outsticking thing.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Stout</i>, the cowfly, <i>Tabanus</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Stitch</i> (of corn), a conical pile of sheaves.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Straw&egrave;n</i>, a strewing. All the potatoes of one mother potatoe.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Strawmote</i>, a straw or stalk.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Strent</i>, a long slent or tear.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Streech</i>, an outstretching (as of a rake in raking); a-strout stretched out stiffly like frozen linen.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Stubbard</i>, a kind of apple.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Stunpoll</i> (7), stone head, blockhead; also an old tree almost dead.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="T" id="T"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>T.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>th</i> is soft (as <i>th</i> in thee), as a heading of these words:&mdash;thatch, thief, thik, thimble, thin, think, thumb.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tack</i>, a shelf on a wall.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Taffle</i>, to tangle, as grass or corn beaten down by storms.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ta&iuml;t</i>, to play at see-saw.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tamy</i> (3, 1), <i>tammy</i> (5, 1), tough, that may be drawn out in strings, as rich toasted cheese.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Te&auml;ve</i>, (1, 3), to reach about strongly as in work or a struggle.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Teery</i>, <i>Tewly</i>, weak of growth.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tewly</i>, weakly.</li>
+<li>
+<i>The&auml;se</i>, this or these.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Theasum</i> (1, 4), these.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tidden (tidn)</i>, it is not.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tilty</i>, touchy, irritable.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Timmersome</i>, restless.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tine</i>, to kindle, also to fence in ground.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tistytosty</i>, a toss ball of cowslip blooms.</li>
+<li>
+<i>To-year</i>, this year (as to-day.)</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tranter</i>, a common carrier.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Trendel</i>, a shallow tub.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tump</i>, a little mound.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tun</i>, the top of the chimney above the roof ridge.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tut</i> (work), piecework.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tutty</i>, a nosegay.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Tweil</i>, (4, 1) toil.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Twite</i>, to twit reproach.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="U" id="U"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>U.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Unheal</i>, uncover, unroof.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="V" id="V"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>V.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>v</i> is taken for <i>f</i> as the heading of some purely English words, as vall, fall, vind, find.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Veag</i>, <i>V&#275;g</i> (2), a strong fit of anger.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Vern</i>, fern.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Ve'se</i>, vess, a verse.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Vinny cheese</i>, cheese with fen or blue-mould.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Vitty</i>, nice in appearance.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Vlanker</i>, a flake of fire.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Vlee</i>, fly.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Vo'k</i>, folk.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Vooty</i>, unhandily little.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Vuz</i>, <i>Vuzzen</i>, furze, gorse.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="W" id="W"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>W.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>wo</i> (8, 4), for the long o, 7, as bwold, bold; cwold, cold.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Wag</i>, to stir.<a name="page467" id="page467"></a><span class="left">[page&nbsp;467]</span></li>
+<li>
+<i>Wagwanton</i>, quaking grass.</li>
+<li>
+<i>We&auml;se</i>, (1, 4) a pad or wreath for the head under a milkpail.</li>
+<li>
+<i>We&auml;le</i> (1, 3), a ridge of dried hay; see <i>Ha&yuml;me&auml;k&egrave;n</i>.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Welshnut</i>, a walnut.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Werden</i>, were not or was not.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Wevet</i>, a spider's web.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Whindl&egrave;n</i>, weakly, small of growth.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Whicker</i>, to neigh.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Whiver</i>, to hover, quiver.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Whog</i>, go off; to a horse.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Whur</i>, to fling overhanded.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Wi'</i>, with.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Widdicks</i>, withes or small brushwood.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Wink</i>, a winch; crank of a well.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Withwind</i>, the bindweed,</li>
+<li>
+<i>Wont</i>, a mole.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Wops</i>, wasp.
+  <ul class="index1"><li><i>ps</i>, not <i>sp</i>, in Anglo-Saxon, and now in Holstein.</li></ul></li>
+<li>
+<i>Wotshed</i>, <i>Wetshod</i>, wet-footed.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Wride</i>, to spread out in growth.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Wride</i>, the set of stems or stalks from one root or grain of corn.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Writh</i>, a small wreath of tough wands, to link hurdles to the sowels (stakes).</li>
+<li>
+<i>Wrix</i>, wreathed or wattle work, as a fence.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="Y" id="Y"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>Y.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>Yop</i>, yelp.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a class="index" name="Z" id="Z"></a>
+<ul class="index">
+
+<li><h4>Z.</h4></li>
+<li>
+<i>z</i> for <i>s</i> as a heading of some, not all, pure Saxon
+  words, nor [or?] for <i>s</i> of inbrought foreign words.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Zand</i>, sand.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Zennit</i>, <i>Zennight</i>, seven night; "This day zennit."</li>
+<li>
+<i>Zew, azew</i>, milkless.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Zoo</i>, so.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Zive</i>, a scythe.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Zull</i> a plough to plough ground.</li>
+<li>
+<i>Zwath</i>, a swath.</li>
+</ul>
+
+ <br /><br /><br /><br />
+ <hr class="short" />
+
+
+<p class="center">
+<i>Turnbull &amp; Spears, Printers.</i></p>
+
+
+     <hr class="short" />
+
+
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<table align="center" summary="note">
+<tr>
+    <td class="note">
+Transcriber's Note:<br /><br />
+TOC: 423 corrected to 243<br />
+Page 137: Replaced missing end-quote.<br />
+Page 194: Replaced missing end-quote.<br />
+Page 197: Changed j&auml;y to ja&yuml;.<br />
+Page 235: replaced two periods with commas.<br />
+Page 243: restored title: BLE&Auml;KE'S HOUSE IN BLACKMWORE.<br />
+Page 297: Replaced missing end-quote.<br />
+Page 350: Changed j&auml;y to ja&yuml;.<br />
+Page 368: "J. L., *T. D., at Meldonley." has no following footnote.<br />
+Page 432: changed d&auml;y to da&yuml;.<br />
+Page 444: Replaced missing end-quote.<br />
+Index: Added missing stops to E, F, G, H.<br />
+
+          Realigned 'Scote' alphabetically.<br />
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<a name="oefont"></a>
+<p class="note">Old English font is available here: <br />[http://www.]  uk-genealogy.org.uk/resources/&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+<a href="#top">return</a></p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+ <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset
+Dialect, by William Barnes
+
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+</body>
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+
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+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: ASCII
+
+*** 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, TRUeBNER & 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
+Leaedy-Day, an' Ridden House                         5
+Easter Zunday                                       8
+Easter Monday                                       9
+Dock-Leaves                                         9
+The Blackbird                                      10
+Woodcom' Feaest                                     12
+The Milk-Maid o' the Farm                          13
+The Girt Woak Tree that's in the Dell              15
+Vellen o' the Tree                                 16
+Bringen Woone Gwain o' Zundays                     17
+Evenen Twilight                                    18
+Evenen 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 Coorten                     30
+
+
+SUMMER.
+
+Evenen, an' Maidens out at Door                    34
+The Shepherd o' the Farm                           35
+Vields in the Light                                36
+Whitsuntide an' Club Walken                        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
+Haven Woones Fortune a-twold                       46
+Jeaene's Wedden Day in Mornen                       47
+Rivers don't gi'e out                              49
+Meaeken up a Miff                                   50
+Hay-Meaeken                                         51
+Hay-Carren                                         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 Meaed a-mow'd                                   60
+The Sky a-cleaeren                                  61
+The Evenen Star o' Zummer                          62
+The Clote                                          63
+I got two Vields                                   65
+Polly be-en upzides wi' Tom                        66
+Be'mi'ster                                         67
+Thatchen o' the Rick                               68
+Bees a-Zwarmen                                     69
+Readen ov a Head-stwone                            70
+Zummer Evenen Dance                                71
+Eclogue:--The Veaeiries                             72
+
+
+FALL.
+
+Corn a-turnen Yollow                               76
+A-Haulen o' the Corn                               77
+Harvest Hwome:--The vu'st Peaert                    78
+Harvest Hwome:--Second Peaert                       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 Veaeiry Veet that I do meet                     87
+Mornen                                             88
+Out a-Nutten                                       90
+Teaeken in Apples                                   91
+Meaeple Leaves be Yollow                            92
+Night a-zetten in                                  93
+The Weather-beaeten Tree                            94
+Shrodon Feaeir:--The vu'st Peaert                    95
+Shrodon Feaeir:--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 Weepen Leaedy                                  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
+Keepen up o' Chris'mas                            121
+Zitten out the Wold Year                          122
+Woak wer Good Enough Woonce                       123
+Lullaby                                           124
+Meaery-Ann's Child                                 125
+Eclogue:--Father Come Hwome                       126
+Eclogue:--A Ghost                                 129
+
+
+SUNDRY PIECES.
+
+A Zong                                            133
+The Maid 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 Dreven 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 Vaices that be Gone                           152
+Poll                                              153
+Looks a-know'd Avore                              154
+The Music o' the Dead                             155
+The Pleaece a Teaele's a-twold o'                   156
+Aunt's Tantrums                                   158
+The Stwonen Pworch                                159
+Farmer's Sons                                     160
+Jeaene                                             161
+The Dree Woaks                                    162
+The Hwomestead a-vell into Hand                   164
+The Guide Post                                    166
+Gwain to Feaeir                                    167
+Jeaene 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 Maidens                                185
+My Orcha'd in Linden Lea                          186
+Bishop's Caundle                                  187
+Hay Meaeken--Nunchen Time                          189
+A Father out an' Mother Hwome                     191
+Riddles                                           192
+Day's Work a-done                                 196
+Light or Sheaede                                   197
+The Waggon a-stooded                              197
+Gwain down the Steps                              201
+Ellen Brine ov Allenburn                          202
+The Motherless Child                              203
+The Leaedy's Tower                                 204
+Fatherhood                                        208
+The Maid o' Newton                                211
+Childhood                                         212
+Meaery's Smile                                     213
+Meaery Wedded                                      214
+The Stwonen Bwoy                                  215
+The Young that died in Beauty                     217
+Faeir Emily of Yarrow Mill                         218
+The Scud                                          219
+Minden House                                      221
+The Lovely Maid ov Elwell Meaed                    222
+Our Fathers' Works                                224
+The Wold vo'k Dead                                225
+Culver Dell and the Squire                        227
+Our Be'thplace                                    229
+The Window freaemed wi' Stwone                     230
+The Waterspring in the Leaene                      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 Pleaeces                                  240
+The Wold Wall                                     242
+Bleaeke's House                                    243
+John Bleaeke at Hwome                              245
+Milken Time                                       247
+When Birds be Still                               248
+Riden Hwome at Night                              249
+Zun-zet.                                          250
+Spring                                            252
+The Zummer Hedge                                  253
+The Water Crowvoot                                254
+The Lilac                                         255
+The Blackbird                                     256
+The Slanten light o' Fall                         257
+Thissledown                                       259
+The May-tree                                      259
+The Lydlinch Bells                                260
+The Stage Coach                                   261
+Wayfeaeren                                         263
+The Leaene                                         265
+The Railroad                                      267
+The Railroad                                      268
+Seats                                             268
+Sound o' Water                                    270
+Trees be Company                                  270
+A Pleaece in Zight                                 272
+Gwain 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 Beaen-vield                                    284
+Wold Friends a-met                                286
+Fifehead                                          288
+Ivy Hall                                          289
+False Friends-like                                290
+The Bachelor                                      290
+Married Peaeir's Love-walk                         292
+A Wife a-prais'd                                  293
+The Wife a-lost                                   295
+The Thorns in the Geaete                           296
+Angels by the Door                                297
+Vo'k a-comen into Church                          298
+Woone Rule                                        299
+Good Meaester Collins                              300
+Herrenston                                        302
+Out at Plough                                     304
+The Bwoat                                         306
+The Pleaece our own agean                          307
+Eclogue:--John an' Thomas                         308
+Pentridge by the River                            310
+Wheat                                             311
+The Meaed in June                                  313
+Early risen                                       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 Gay                                       325
+The Heaere                                         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 Playmeaetes                              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 Playmeaete                                   359
+Picken 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 Neaeme Letters                                 368
+The New House a-getten Wold                       370
+Zunday                                            370
+The Pillar'd Geaete                                371
+Zummer Stream                                     373
+Zummer Stream                                     373
+Linda Deaene                                       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-tellen                            386
+Sheaedes                                           387
+Times o' Year                                     387
+Eclogue:--Racketen Joe                            388
+Zummer an' Winter                                 391
+To Me                                             392
+Two an' Two                                       393
+The Lew o' the Rick                               394
+The Wind in Woone's Feaece                         395
+Tokens                                            396
+Tweil                                             396
+Fancy                                             398
+The Broken Heart                                  399
+Evenen Light                                      400
+Vields by Watervalls                              401
+The Wheel Routs                                   402
+Nanny's new Abode                                 403
+Leaves a-vallen                                   404
+Lizzie                                            405
+Blessens a-left                                   406
+Fall Time                                         407
+Fall                                              408
+The Zilver-weed                                   409
+The Widow's House                                 409
+The Child's Greaeve                                410
+Went vrom Hwome                                   412
+The Fancy Feaeir                                   412
+Things do Come Round                              414
+Zummer Thoughts in Winter Time                    415
+I'm out o' Door                                   416
+Grief an' Gladness                                417
+Sliden                                            418
+Lwonesomeness                                     420
+A Snowy Night                                     421
+The Year-clock                                    421
+Not goo Hwome To-night                            424
+The Humstrum                                      426
+Shaftesbury Feaeir                                 427
+The Beaeten Path                                   429
+Ruth a-riden                                      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 ceaere                                       437
+Changes                                           439
+Kindness                                          440
+Withstanders                                      441
+Daniel Dwithen                                    442
+Turnen things off                                 444
+The Giants in Treaedes                             445
+The Little Worold                                 447
+Bad News                                          448
+The Turnstile                                     449
+The Better vor zeen o' you                        450
+Pity                                              451
+John Bloom in Lon'on                              453
+A Lot o' Maidens                                  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' naisy-builden 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 hangen flow'r
+  A-wetted in the zunny show'r,
+  Do grow wi' vi'lets, sweet o' smell,
+  Bezide the wood-screen'd graegle's bell;
+  Where drushes' aggs, wi' sky-blue shell,
+    Do lie in mossy nest among
+    The thorns, while they do zing their zong
+      At evenen in the zunsheen.
+
+  An' God do meaeke his win' to blow
+  An' rain to vall vor high an' low,
+  An' bid his mornen 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 veeden herds,
+  An' hear the zingen o' the birds,
+  Do soothe my sorrow mwore than words;
+    Vor I do zee that 'tis our sin
+    Do meaeke woone's soul so dark 'ithin,
+      When God would gi'e woone zunsheen.
+
+
+
+
+THE WOODLANDS.
+
+
+  O spread ageaen your leaves an' flow'rs,
+    Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands!
+  Here underneath the dewy show'rs
+    O' warm-air'd spring-time, zunny woodlands!
+  As when, in drong or open ground,
+  Wi' happy bwoyish heart I vound
+  The twitt'ren birds a-builden round
+    Your high-bough'd hedges, zunny woodlands.
+
+  You gie'd me life, you gie'd me jay,
+    Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands
+  You gie'd me health, as in my play
+    I rambled through ye, zunny woodlands!
+  You gie'd me freedom, vor to rove
+  In airy meaed or sheaedy grove;
+  You gie'd me smilen Fanney'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 ageaen unspied,
+    Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands!
+  Along your green-bough'd hedges' zide,
+    As then I rambled, zunny woodlands!
+  An' where the missen trees woonce stood,
+  Or tongues woonce rung among the wood,
+  My memory shall meaeke em good,
+    Though you've a-lost em, zunny woodlands!
+
+
+
+
+LEADY-DAY, AN' RIDDEN HOUSE.
+
+
+  Aye, back at Leaedy-Day, you know,
+  I come vrom Gullybrook to Stowe;
+  At Leaedy-Day I took my pack
+  O' rottletraps, an' turn'd my back
+  Upon the weather-beaeten door,
+  That had a-screen'd, so long avore,
+  The mwost that theaese zide o' the greaeve,
+  I'd live to have, or die to seaeve!
+  My childern, an' my vier-pleaece,
+  Where Molly wi' her cheerful feaece,
+  When I'd a-trod my wat'ry road
+  Vrom night-bedarken'd vields abrode,
+  Wi' nimble hands, at evenen, 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, strugglen hard an' clingen tight,
+  They reach'd at last my feaece's height.
+  All tryen which could soonest hold
+  My mind wi' little teaeles they twold.
+  An' ridden 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 comen 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 lumbren waggon,
+  An' when he come, we vell a-packen
+  The bedsteads, wi' their rwopes an' zacken;
+  An' then put up the wold eaerm-chair,
+  An' cwoffer vull ov e'then-ware,
+  An' vier-dogs, an' copper kittle,
+  Wi' crocks an' saucepans, big an' little;
+  An' fryen-pan, vor aggs to slide
+  In butter round his hissen zide,
+  An' gridire's even bars, to bear
+  The drippen steaeke above the gleaere
+  O' brightly-glowen coals. An' then,
+  All up o' top o' them ageaen
+  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 reaeves, along the zide,
+  The woaeken stools, his glossy meaetes,
+  Bwoth when he's beaere, or when the pleaetes
+  Do clatter loud wi' knives, below
+  Our merry feaeces 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-ceaese,
+  All dumb, athirt upon his feaece,
+  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 toward 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 teaeke,--the butter-barrel
+  An' cheese-wring, wi' his twinen screw,
+  An' all the pails an' veaets, 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-streamen weak
+  Drough empty rooms, an' meaeken sad
+  My heart, where me'th woonce meaede me glad.
+  Vor when a man do leaeve 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 ridden 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 laggens on, an' tied
+  His shoes wi' strings two vingers wide,
+      Because 'twer Easter Zunday.
+
+  An' after mornen church wer out
+  He come back hwome, an' stroll'd about
+  All down the vields, an' drough the leaene,
+  Wi' sister Kit an' cousin Jeaene,
+  A-turnen proudly to their view
+  His yollow breast an' back o' blue.
+  The lambs did play, 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 meaede the maidens squeael 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 beaet the path an' leaep 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' Jeaene, an' Kit,
+        Because 'twer Easter Monday.
+
+  An' there we play'd away at quaits,
+  An' weigh'd ourzelves wi' sceaeles an' waights;
+  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' play'd at vives ageaen the tower.
+  An' then we went an' had a tait,
+  An' cousin Sammy, wi' his waight,
+  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 play 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 feaece, in zummer's het,
+  Did sheen wi' tricklen draps o' zweat,
+  How you, a-zot bezide the bank,
+  Didst toss your little head, an' pank,
+  An' teaeke a dock-leaf in your han',
+  An' whisk en lik' a leaedy's fan;
+  While I did hunt, 'ithin your zight,
+  Vor streaky cockle-shells to fight.
+
+  In all our play-geaemes we did bruise
+  The dock-leaves wi' our nimble shoes;
+  Bwoth where we merry chaps did fling
+  You maidens in the orcha'd swing,
+  An' by the zaw-pit's dousty bank,
+  Where we did tait 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 vlee-en 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-swingen high,
+  Mid zing below a cloudless sky.
+  An' sparrows, clust'ren roun' the bough,
+  Mid chatter to the men at plough,--
+  The blackbird, whisslen in among
+  The boughs, do zing the gayest zong.
+
+  Vor we do hear the blackbird zing
+  His sweetest ditties in the spring,
+  When nippen win's noo mwore do blow
+  Vrom northern skies, wi' sleet or snow,
+  But dr[=e]ve light doust along between
+  The leaene-zide hedges, thick an' green;
+  An' zoo the blackbird in among
+  The boughs do zing the gayest zong.
+
+  'Tis blithe, wi' newly-open'd eyes,
+  To zee the mornen's ruddy skies;
+  Or, out a-haulen 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 daey long,
+  Lik' evenen wi' the blackbird's zong.
+
+  Vor when my work is all a-done
+  Avore the zetten o' the zun,
+  Then blushen Jeaene do walk along
+  The hedge to meet me in the drong,
+  An' stay till all is dim an' dark
+  Bezides the ashen tree's white bark;
+  An' all bezides the blackbird's shrill
+  An' runnen evenen-whissle's still.
+
+  An' there in bwoyhood I did rove
+  Wi' pryen eyes along the drove
+  To vind the nest the blackbird meaede
+  O' grass-stalks in the high bough's sheaede:
+  Or clim' aloft, wi' clingen knees,
+  Vor crows' aggs up in swayen trees,
+  While frighten'd blackbirds down below
+  Did chatter o' their little foe.
+  An' zoo there's noo pleaece lik' the drong,
+  Where I do hear the blackbird's zong.
+
+
+
+
+WOODCOM' FEAST.
+
+
+  Come, Fanny, come! put on thy white,
+  'Tis Woodcom' feaest, good now! to-night.
+  Come! think noo mwore, you silly maid,
+  O' chicken drown'd, or ducks a-stray'd;
+  Nor mwope to vind thy new frock's tail
+  A-tore by hitchen in a nail;
+  Nor grieve an' hang thy head azide,
+  A-thinken o' thy lam' that died.
+  The flag's a-vleen wide an' high,
+  An' ringen bells do sheaeke the sky;
+  The fifes do play, the horns do roar,
+  An' boughs be up at ev'ry door:
+  They 'll be a-dancen soon,--the drum
+  'S a-rumblen now. Come, Fanny, come!
+  Why father's gone, an' mother too.
+  They went up leaene 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 mwopen wench, come out,
+  An' go wi' me, an' show at leaest
+  Bright eyes an' smiles at Woodcom' feaest.
+
+  Come, let's goo out, an' fling our heels
+  About in jigs an' vow'r-han' reels;
+  While aell the stiff-lagg'd wolder vo'k,
+  A-zitten roun', do talk an' joke
+  An' smile to zee their own wold rigs.
+  A-show'd by our wild geaemes an' jigs.
+  Vor ever since the vwold church speer
+  Vu'st prick'd the clouds, vrom year to year,
+  When grass in meaed 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 leaest,
+  Had merry hearts at Woodcom' feaest.
+
+  Zoo keep it up, an' gi'e it on
+  To other vo'k when we be gone.
+  Come otit; vor when the zetten zun
+  Do leaeve in sheaede our harmless fun,
+  The moon a-risen in the east
+  Do gi'e us light at Woodcom' feaest.
+  Come, Fanny, come! put on thy white,
+  'Tis merry Woodcom' feaest to night:
+  There's nothen vor to mwope about,--
+  Come out, you leaezy jeaede, come out!
+  An' thou wult be, to woone at leaest,
+  The prettiest maid at Woodcom' feaest.
+
+
+
+
+THE MILK-MAID O' THE FARM.
+
+
+  O Poll's the milk-maid o' the farm!
+    An' Poll's so happy out in groun',
+  Wi' her white pail below her eaerm
+    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 sparklen bright,
+    An' zoo her cheaeks be bloomen red.
+
+  In zummer mornens, 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 evenen, when the zun
+    Do sheen ageaen the western brows
+  O' hills, where bubblen brooks do run,
+    There she do zing bezide her cows.
+
+  An' ev'ry cow of hers do stand,
+    An' never overzet her pail;
+  Nor try to kick her nimble hand,
+    Nor switch her wi' her heavy tail.
+
+  Noo leaedy, wi' her muff an' vail,
+    Do walk wi' sich a steaetely tread
+  As she do, wi' her milken pail
+    A-balanc'd on her comely head.
+
+  An' she, at mornen 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-maid o' the farm!
+    An' Poll's so happy out in groun',
+  Wi' her white pail below her eaerm,
+    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 eaecorns green, a-shed
+  In wrestlen storms vrom his broad head.
+  An' down below's the cloty brook
+  Where I did vish with line an' hook,
+  An' beaet, in playsome dips and zwims,
+  The foamy stream, wi' white-skinn'd lim's.
+  An' there my mother nimbly shot
+  Her knitten-needles, as she zot
+  At evenen down below the wide
+  Woak's head, wi' father at her zide.
+  An' I've a-played 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 leaeter years, I roved
+  Wi' thik poor maid I fondly lov'd,--
+  The maid too feaeir to die so soon,--
+  When evenen twilight, or the moon,
+  Cast light enough 'ithin the pleaece
+  To show the smiles upon her feaece,
+  Wi' eyes so clear's the glassy pool,
+  An' lips an' cheaeks 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 leaeden 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 steaetely look;
+  Nor ever roun' his ribby zides
+  Mid cattle rub ther heaeiry hides;
+  Nor pigs rout up his turf, but keep
+  His lwonesome sheaede 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 sailen wi' the girt woak tree:
+  An' I upon his planks would stand,
+  An' die a-fighten 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-stannen this mornen, 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 sheaede ov his head, when the zun at his heighth
+  Had a-drove em vrom mowen, wi' het an' wi' drith,
+  Where the hay-meaekers put all their picks an' their reaekes,
+  An' did squot down to snabble their cheese an' their ceaekes,
+  An' did vill vrom their flaggons their cups wi' their eaele,
+  An' did meaeke theirzelves merry wi' joke an' wi' teaele.
+
+  Ees, we took up a rwope an' we tied en all round
+  At the top o'n, wi' woone end a-hangen 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-stannen this mornen, an' now's a-cut down.
+
+
+
+
+BRINGEN WOONE GWAIN[A] O' ZUNDAYS.
+
+
+  Ah! John! how I do love to look
+  At theaese green hollor, an' the brook
+  Among the withies that do hide
+  The stream, a-growen at the zide;
+  An' at the road athirt the wide
+    An' shallow vword, where we young bwoys
+    Did peaert, when we did goo half-woys,
+      To bring ye gwain o' Zundays.
+
+  Vor after church, when we got hwome,
+  In evenen 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 gwain o' Zundays.
+
+  How we did scote all down the groun',
+  A-pushen woone another down!
+  Or challengen o' zides in jumps
+  Down over bars, an' vuzz, an' humps;
+  An' peaert 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 gwain o' Zundays.
+
+  O' leaeter 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 gwain o' Zundays.
+
+[Footnote A: "To bring woone gwain,"--to bring one going; to bring one
+on his way.]
+
+
+
+
+EVENEN 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' skippen veet
+      At evenen in the twilight.
+
+  The evenen air did fan, in turn,
+  The cheaeks the midday zun did burn.
+  An' zet the russlen leaves at play,
+  An' meaeke the red-stemm'd brembles sway
+  In bows below the snow-white may;
+    An' whirlen roun' the trees, did sheaeke
+    Jeaene's raven curls about her neck,
+      They evenens in the twilight.
+
+  An' there the yollow light did rest
+  Upon the bank toward the west,
+  An' twitt'ren birds did hop in drough
+  The hedge, an' many a skippen shoe
+  Did beaet the flowers, wet wi' dew,
+    As underneaeth the tree's wide limb
+    Our merry sheaepes did jumpy, dim,
+      They evenens in the twilight.
+
+  How sweet's the evenen dusk to rove
+  Along wi' woone that we do love!
+  When light enough is in the sky
+  To sheaede the smile an' light the eye
+  'Tis all but heaven to be by;
+    An' bid, in whispers soft an' light
+    'S the ruslen ov a leaf, "Good night,"
+      At evenen 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 teaeke or bring;
+    But meet, when all their work's a-done,
+    In orcha'd vor their bit o' fun
+      At evenen in the twilight.
+
+
+
+
+EVENEN 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-zenden 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 flickeren light drough the window-peaene
+    Vrom the candle's dull fleaeme do shoot,
+  An' young Jemmy the smith is a-gone down leaene,
+    A-playen his shrill-vaiced 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 May
+  The trees be green, the vields be gay;
+  The weather's warm, the winter blast,
+  Wi' all his train o' clouds, is past;
+  The zun do rise while vo'k do sleep,
+  To teaeke a higher daily zweep,
+  Wi' cloudless feaece a-flingen down
+  His sparklen light upon the groun'.
+
+  The air's a-streamen 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 gay mid sheaeme your gown:
+  An' goo an' rig wi' me a mile
+  Or two up over geaete an' stile,
+  Drough zunny parrocks that do leaed,
+  Wi' crooked hedges, to the meaed,
+  Where elems high, in steaetely ranks,
+  Do rise vrom yollow cowslip-banks,
+  An' birds do twitter vrom the spray
+  O' bushes deck'd wi' snow-white may;
+  An' gil'cups, wi' the deaeisy 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' sheaedy elems, where the rook
+  Do build her nest; an' where the brook
+  Do creep along the meaeds, an' lie
+  To catch the brightness o' the sky;
+  An' cows, in water to their knees,
+  Do stan' a-whisken off the vlees.
+
+  Mother o' blossoms, and ov all
+  That's feaeir a-yield vrom Spring till Fall,
+  The gookoo over white-weaev'd seas
+  Do come to zing in thy green trees,
+  An' buttervlees, in giddy flight,
+  Do gleaem the mwost by thy gay 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 comen on:
+  Nor mid I draw upon the e'th,
+  O' thy sweet air my leaetest breath;
+  Alassen I mid want to stay
+  Behine' for thee, O flow'ry May!
+
+
+
+
+BOB THE FIDDLER.
+
+
+  Oh! Bob the fiddler is the pride
+  O' chaps an' maidens 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' play what you do please.
+  At Maypolen, or feaest, or feaeir,
+  His eaerm wull zet off twenty peaeir,
+  An' meaeke em dance the groun' dirt-beaere,
+    An' hop about lik' vlees.
+
+  Long life to Bob! the very soul
+  O' me'th at merry feaest an' pole;
+  Vor when the crowd do leaeve his jowl,
+    They'll all be in the dumps.
+  Zoo at the dance another year,
+  At _Shillinston_ or _Hazelbur'_,
+  Mid Bob be there to meaeke 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 deaeisy-beds so white's a sheet,
+  But still avore I us'd to meet
+    The blushen cheaeks that bloom'd vor me!
+
+  An' afterward, in lightsome youth,
+    When zummer wer a-comen on,
+  An' all the trees wer white wi' blooth,
+  An' dippen zwallows skimm'd the pon';
+  Sweet hope did vill my heart wi' jay,
+  An' tell me, though thik spring wer gay,
+  There still would come a brighter May,
+    Wi' blushen cheaeks to bloom vor me!
+
+  An' when, at last, the time come roun',
+    An' brought a lofty zun to sheen
+  Upon my smilen Fanny, down
+    Drough n[=e]sh young leaves o' yollow green;
+  How charmen wer the het that glow'd,
+  How charmen wer the sheaede a-drow'd,
+  How charmen wer the win' that blow'd
+    Upon her cheaeks that bloom'd vor me!
+
+  But hardly did they times begin,
+    Avore I vound em short to stay:
+  An' year by year do now come in,
+    To peaert me wider vrom my jay,
+  Vor what's to meet, or what's to peaert,
+  Wi' maidens kind, or maidens smart,
+  When hope's noo longer in the heart,
+    An' cheaeks 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 smilen still my harmless dove,
+    So feaeir 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 feaezen brown;
+  An' zunny slopes, a-lyen nigh,
+  Be back'd by hills so blue's the sky;
+  Then, while the bells do sweetly cheem
+  Upon the champen high-neck'd team,
+  How lively, wi' a friend, do seem
+    The white road up athirt the hill.
+
+  The zwellen downs, wi' chalky tracks
+  A-climmen up their zunny backs,
+  Do hide green meaeds 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 feaest, 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 play an' joke,
+  An' in the evenen all our vo'k
+    Do bring em gwain 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' comen friends do tread
+    The white road down athirt the hill.
+
+  An' when the winden road so white,
+  A-climmen up the hills in zight,
+  Do leaed to pleaezen, east or west,
+  The vu'st a-known, an' lov'd the best,
+  How touchen in the zunsheen's glow,
+  Or in the sheaedes 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' deaeiry cows in woody nooks,
+  An' haymeaekers among their pooks,
+  An' housen that the trees do screen
+  From zun an' zight by boughs o' green!
+  Young blushen 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 cheaeks wi' zuns
+    O' zummer, in my playsome runs
+      About the woody hollow.
+
+  When evenen's risen moon did peep
+  Down drough the hollow dark an' deep,
+  Where gigglen sweethearts meaede their vows
+  In whispers under waggen boughs;
+  When whisslen bwoys, an' rott'len ploughs
+    Wer still, an' mothers, wi' their thin
+    Shrill vaices, call'd their daughters in,
+      From walken 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 feaezen now a-spweil'd;
+  Or wolder vo'k, so wise an' mild,
+    That I do miss when I do goo
+    To zee the pleaece, an' walk down drough
+      The lwonesome woody hollow?
+
+  When wrongs an' overbearen words
+  Do prick my bleeden heart lik' swords,
+  Then I do try, vor Christes seaeke,
+  To think o' you, sweet days! an' meaeke
+  My soul as 'twer when you did weaeke
+    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 feaeir?
+  She had woone white, a-gi'ed her when
+  She stood at Meaery's chrissenen;
+  She had woone brown, she had woone red,
+  A keepseaeke vrom her brother dead,
+  That she did like to wear, to goo
+  To zee his greaeve 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 heaeir
+  When vu'st I walk'd wi' her at feaeir.
+
+  The brown, I zaid, would do to deck
+  Thy heaeir; the white would match thy neck;
+  The red would meaeke thy red cheaek wan
+  A-thinken 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 heaeir
+  When vu'st I walk'd wi' thee at feaeir.
+
+  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 meaed toward the feaeir;
+  The while her mother, at the geaete,
+  Call'd out an' bid her not stay leaete,
+  An' she, a-smilen 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-worken and a-zingen lik' a bee.
+  How do it answer? what d'ye think about it?
+  D'ye think 'tis better wi' it than without it?
+  A-recknen 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' eaech'd a-cracken stwones
+  Upon the road; I wish I had zome mwore o't.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  I wish the girt woones had a-got the greaece
+  To let out land lik' this in ouer pleaece;
+  But I do fear there'll never be nwone vor us,
+  An' I can't tell whatever we shall do:
+  We be a-most starven, 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 pleaece the plan,
+  He zaid he'd let a vew odd eaecres
+  O' land to us poor leaeb'ren men;
+  An', faith, he had enough o' teaekers
+  Vor that, an' twice so much ageaen.
+  Zoo I took zome here, near my hovel,
+  To exercise my speaede an' shovel;
+  An' what wi' dungen, diggen up, an' zeeden,
+  A-thinnen, cleaenen, howen up an' weeden,
+  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' eaern a penny;
+  An' then, by worken, they do learn the vaster
+  The way to do things when they have a meaester;
+  Vor woone must know a deael about the land
+  Bevore woone's fit to lend a useful hand,
+  In geaerden or a-vield upon a farm.
+
+  RICHARD.
+
+  An' then the work do keep em out o' harm;
+  Vor vo'ks that don't do nothen wull be vound
+  Soon doen woorse than nothen, I'll be bound.
+  But as vor me, d'ye zee, with theaese 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 beaens or cabbage, greens or grass,
+  Or bit o' wheat, or, sich my happy feaete is,
+  That I can keep a little cow, or ass,
+  An' a vew pigs to eat the little teaeties.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  An' when your pig's a-fatted pretty well
+  Wi' teaeties, 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' netlens for to bwoil; or put the blood in,
+  An' meaeke 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 teazen maid!
+  How leaete you be a' come! Where have ye stay'd?
+  How long you have a-meaede me wait about!
+  I thought you werden gwain to come ageaen:
+  I had a mind to goo back hwome ageaen.
+  This idden when you promis'd to come out.
+
+  FANNY.
+
+  Now 'tidden any good to meaeke 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 stay
+  Vor me a minute longer, I do pray.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  I thought you mid be out wi' Jemmy Bleaeke,
+
+  FANNY.
+
+  An' why be out wi' him, vor goodness' seaeke?
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  You walk'd o' Zunday evenen wi'n, d'ye know,
+  You went vrom church a-hitch'd up in his eaerm.
+
+  FANNY.
+
+  Well, if I did, that werden any harm.
+  Lauk! that _is_ zome'at to teaeke 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-lenden me his eaerm.
+  An' as vor kissen 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'en 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 kissen!
+
+  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'en vo'k a drashen,
+  An' breaken bwones, an' beaeten 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' peaert.
+
+  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 scwolden 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 meaeke it up. Come, wipe off thik there tear.
+  Let's goo an' zit o' top o' theaese 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 smilen; 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-comen down the groun'
+  Towards the stile. Who is it? Come, get down
+  I must run hwome, upon my word then, now;
+  If I do stay, they'll kick up sich a row.
+  Good night. I can't stay now.
+
+JOHN.
+
+      Then good night, Fanny!
+Come out a-bit to-morrow evenen, can ye?
+
+
+
+
+SUMMER.
+
+
+
+
+EVENEN, AN' MAIDENS OUT AT DOOR.
+
+
+  Now the sheaedes o' the elems do stratch mwore an' mwore,
+  Vrom the low-zinken zun in the west o' the sky;
+  An' the maidens 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' heaeir,
+  An' their currels do hang roun' their necks lily-white,
+  An' their cheaeks they be rwosy, their shoulders be beaere,
+  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 jay under evenen'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 train'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 heaeir.
+
+  An' zoo smile, happy maidens! vor every feaece,
+  As the zummers do come, an' the years do roll by,
+  Will soon sadden, or goo vur away vrom the pleaece,
+  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 pleaezen to bloom an' to die;
+  An' the zummer will always have maidens avore
+  Their doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.
+
+  Vor daughters ha' mornen when mothers ha' night,
+  An' there's beauty alive when the feaeirest is dead;
+  As when woone sparklen weaeve do zink down vrom the light,
+  Another do come up an' catch it instead.
+
+  Zoo smile on, happy maidens! but I shall noo mwore
+  Zee the maid I do miss under evenen'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' tinklen bells an' sheep-dog's bark,
+  An' wi' my crook a-thirt my eaerm,
+    Here I do rove below the lark.
+
+  An' I do bide all day among
+    The bleaeten sheep, an' pitch their vwold;
+  An' when the evenen sheaedes be long,
+    Do zee em all a-penn'd an' twold.
+
+  An' I do zee the frisken lam's,
+    Wi' swingen tails an' woolly lags,
+  A-playen roun' their veeden dams
+    An' pullen o' their milky bags.
+
+  An' I bezide a hawthorn tree,
+    Do' zit upon the zunny down,
+  While sheaedes 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' blinken eyes,
+    An' nose a-stratch'd upon the grass;
+
+  But, in a twinklen, 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 washen pool,
+    A-sousen over head an' ears,
+  The shaggy sheep, to cleaen their wool
+    An' meaeke em ready vor the sheaers.
+
+  An' when the shearen time do come,
+    Then we do work vrom dawn till dark;
+  Where zome do shear the sheep, and zome
+    Do mark their zides wi' meaesters mark.
+
+  An' when the shearen's all a-done,
+    Then we do eat, an' drink, an' zing,
+  In meaester's kitchen till the tun
+    Wi' merry sounds do sheaeke an' ring.
+
+  Oh! I be shepherd o' the farm,
+    Wi' tinklen bells an' sheep dog's bark,
+  An' wi' my crook a-thirt my eaerm,
+    Here I do rove below the lark.
+
+
+
+
+VIELDS IN THE LIGHT.
+
+
+  Woone's heart mid leaep wi' thoughts o' jay
+  In comen manhood light an' gay
+  When we do teaeke the worold on
+  Vrom our vore-elders dead an' gone;
+  But days so feaeir in hope's bright eyes
+  Do often come wi' zunless skies:
+  Woone's fancy can but be out-done,
+  Where trees do sway an' brooks do run,
+  By risen moon or zetten zun.
+
+  Vor when at evenen I do look
+  All down theaese hangen on the brook,
+  Wi' weaeves a-leaepen clear an' bright,
+  Where boughs do sway in yollow light;
+  Noo hills nor hollows, woods nor streams,
+  A-voun' by day or zeed in dreams,
+  Can ever seem so fit to be
+  Good angel's hwomes, though they do gi'e
+  But pain an' tweil to such as we.
+
+  An' when by moonlight darksome sheaedes
+  Do lie in grass wi' dewy bleaedes,
+  An' worold-hushen 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' Meaery
+  Got up betimes to mind the deaeiry;
+  An' gi'ed the milken pails a scrub,
+  An' dress'd, an' went to zee the club.
+  Vor up at public-house, by ten
+  O'clock the pleaece wer vull o' men,
+  A-dress'd to goo to church, an' dine,
+  An' walk about the pleaece in line.
+  Zoo off they started, two an' two,
+  Wi' painted poles an' knots o' blue,
+  An' girt silk flags,--I wish my box
+  'D a-got em all in ceaepes an' frocks,--
+  A-weaeven wide an' flappen loud
+  In playsome winds above the crowd;
+  While fifes did squeak an' drums did rumble,
+  An' deep beaezzoons did grunt an' grumble,
+  An' all the vo'k in gath'ren crowds
+  Kick'd up the doust in smeechy clouds,
+  That slowly rose an' spread abrode
+  In streamen air above the road.
+  An' then at church there wer sich lots
+  O' hats a-hangen up wi' knots,
+  An' poles a-stood so thick as iver,
+  The rushes stood beside a river.
+  An' Mr Goodman gi'ed em warnen
+  To spend their evenen lik' their mornen;
+  An' not to pray wi' mornen tongues,
+  An' then to zwear wi' evenen lungs:
+  Nor vu'st sheaeke hands, to let the wrist
+  Lift up at last a bruisen vist:
+  Vor clubs were all a-meaen'd vor friends,
+  He twold em, an' vor better ends
+  Than twiten vo'k an' picken quarrels,
+  An' tipplen cups an' empten barrels,--
+  Vor meaeken 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 meaede sich stunnen clatters
+  Wi' knives an' forks, an' pleaetes an' platters;
+  An' waiters 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 ageaen, 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-poken out their poles,
+  An' pushen bwoys down into holes:
+  An' Sammy Stubbs come out o' rank,
+  An' kiss'd me up ageaen 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 evenen, zome
+  Went back to drink, an' zome went hwome.
+
+
+
+
+WOODLEY.
+
+
+  Sweet Woodley! oh! how fresh an' gay
+  Thy leaenes an' vields be now in May,
+  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' graegles wi' their hangen bells!
+
+  Though time do dreve me on, my mind
+  Do turn in love to thee behind,
+  The seaeme's a bulrush that's a-shook
+  By wind a-blowen up the brook:
+  The curlen stream would dreve en down,
+  But playsome air do turn en roun',
+  An' meaeke en seem to bend wi' love
+  To zunny hollows up above.
+
+  Thy tower still do overlook
+  The woody knaps an' winden brook,
+  An' leaene's wi' here an' there a hatch,
+  An' house wi' elem-sheaeded thatch,
+  An' vields where chaps do vur outdo
+  The Zunday sky, wi' cwoats o' blue;
+  An' maidens' frocks do vur surpass
+  The whitest deaesies 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' flappen 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 play to entertain 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-holden out my line beyond
+  The clote-leaves, wi' my withy wand,
+  How I did watch, wi' eager look,
+  My zwimmen cork, a-zunk or shook
+  By minnows nibblen at my hook,
+    A-thinken I should catch a breaece
+    O' perch, or at the leaest some deaece,
+    A-zwimmen down vrom gramfer's.
+
+  Then ten good deaeries wer a-ved
+  Along that water's winden 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-comen down vrom gramfer's.
+
+  There, in the midst ov all his land,
+  The squier's ten-tunn'd house did stand,
+  Where he did meaeke the water clim'
+  A bank, an' sparkle under dim
+  Bridge arches, villen to the brim
+    His pon', an' leaepen, white as snow,
+    Vrom rocks a-glitt'ren in a bow,
+    An' runnen 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-stannen to the rain an' zun,--
+  An' all's undone that he'd a-done;
+    The brook ha' now noo call to stay
+    To vill his pon' or clim' his bay,
+    A-runnen down to gramfer's.
+
+  When woonce, in heavy rain, the road
+  At Grenley bridge wer overflow'd,
+  Poor Sophy White, the pleaeces pride,
+  A-gwain vrom market, went to ride
+  Her pony droo to tother zide;
+    But vound the stream 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-zinken low,
+  How soft's the light his feaece do drow
+  Upon the backward road our mind
+  Do turn an' zee a-left behind;
+  When we, in childhood's days did vind
+  Our jay 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 tweilen in the zummer het,
+  An' when our daily work wer done
+  Did meet to have our evenen fun:
+  Till up above the zetten zun
+  The sky wer blushen 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' mornen, when the day do break;
+  Zoo we don't grow up peaele an' weak,
+  But we do work wi' health an' strength,
+  Vrom mornen drough the whole day's length,
+    An' sleep do come wi' the dew.
+
+  An' when, at last, our e'thly light
+  Is jist a-drawen in to night,
+  We mid be sure that God above,
+  If we be true when he do prove
+  Our stedvast faith an' thankvul love,
+  Wull do vor us what mid be best,
+  An' teaeke us into endless rest,
+    As sleep do come wi' the dew.
+
+
+
+
+SWEET MUSIC IN THE WIND.
+
+
+  When evenen is a-drawen in,
+  I'll steal vrom others' naisy din;
+  An' where the whirlen 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 leaeze
+  O' zunny evenens jis' lik' theaese,
+  In happy times I us'd to zee
+  Thy comely sheaepe about the tree,
+  Wi' pail 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' hangen eaerm an' modest look;
+  Or zitten in some woody nook
+  We lissen'd to the leaves that shook
+  Upon the poplars straight an' tall,
+  Or rottle o' the watervall,
+    Sweet music in the wind!
+
+  An' when the playvul air do vlee,
+  O' moonlight nights, vrom tree to tree,
+  Or whirl upon the sheaeken grass,
+  Or rottle at my window glass:
+  Do seem,--as I do hear it pass,--
+  As if thy vaice 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 evenens, eaerm in eaerm,
+  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-swayen.
+
+  His hat wer broad, his cwoat wer brown,
+  Wi' two long flaps a-hangen down;
+  An' vrom his knee went down a blue
+  Knit stocken to his buckled shoe;
+  An' aunt did pull her gown-tail drough
+  Her pocket-hole, to keep en neat,
+  As she mid walk, or teaeke a seat
+    By leafy boughs a-zwayen.
+
+  An' vu'st they'd goo to zee their lots
+  O' pot-eaerbs in the geaerden 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 roosten tree,
+    Wi' leafy boughs a-swayen.
+
+  An' then vrom geaerden 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-swayen.
+
+  An' then they stump'd along vrom there
+  A-vield, to zee the cows an' meaere;
+  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-chucklen, went to zee
+  The cows below the sheaedy tree,
+    Wi' leafy boughs a-swayen.
+
+  An' last ov all, they went to know
+  How vast the grass in meaed did grow
+  An' then aunt zaid 'twer time to goo
+  In hwome,--a-holden up her shoe,
+  To show how wet he wer wi' dew.
+  An' zoo they toddled hwome to rest,
+  Lik' doves a-vleen to their nest
+    In leafy boughs a-swayen.
+
+
+
+
+HAVEN WOONES FORTUNE A-TWOLD.
+
+
+  In leaene the gipsies, as we went
+  A-milken, 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 smoken vire did crack an' bleaeze,
+    Their shaggy-cwoated hoss did greaeze
+  Among the bushes vurder down.
+
+  An' zoo, when we brought back our pails,
+  The woman met us at the rails,
+  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 leaene,--
+    That I'd a-walk'd, an' should ageaen,
+  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_eaed wi' Dicky overright
+  The _M_ill, the _M_iller, at the stile,
+    Did stan' an' watch us teaeke our stroll,
+    An' then, a blabben 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_eaeir,
+  A bosom-pin o' Jimmy Heaere,
+  Young _F_ranky beaet en black an' blue.
+    'Tis _F_ vor _F_eaeir; an' 'twer about
+    A _F_earen _F_rank an' Jimmy foueght,
+  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 maidens, or as wedded wives;
+  But when we went to bundle on,
+    The gipsies' dog were at the rails
+    A-lappen milk vrom ouer pails,--
+  A pretty deael o' Poll's wer gone.
+
+
+
+
+JEANE'S WEDDEN DAY IN MORNEN.
+
+
+  At last Jeaene come down stairs, a-drest
+  Wi' wedden knots upon her breast,
+  A-blushen, while a tear did lie
+  Upon her burnen cheaek half dry;
+  An' then her Robert, drawen nigh
+  Wi' tothers, took her han' wi' pride,
+  To meaeke her at the church his bride,
+    Her wedden day in mornen.
+
+  Wi' litty voot an' beaeten heart
+  She stepp'd up in the new light cart,
+  An' took her bridemaid up to ride
+  Along wi' Robert at her zide:
+  An' uncle's meaere look'd roun' wi' pride
+  To zee that, if the cart wer vull,
+  'Twer Jenny that he had to pull,
+    Her wedden day in mornen.
+
+  An' aunt an' uncle stood stock-still,
+  An' watch'd em trotten down the hill;
+  An' when they turn'd off out o' groun'
+  Down into leaene, two tears run down
+  Aunt's feaece; an' uncle, turnen roun',
+  Sigh'd woonce, an' stump'd off wi' his stick,
+  Because did touch en to the quick
+    To peaert wi' Jeaene thik mornen.
+
+  "Now Jeaene's agone," Tom mutter'd, "we
+  Shall mwope lik' owls 'ithin a tree;
+  Vor she did zet us all agog
+  Vor fun, avore the burnen log."
+  An' as he zot an' talk'd, the dog
+  Put up his nose athirt his thighs,
+  But coulden meaeke en turn his eyes,
+    Jeaene's wedden day in mornen.
+
+  An' then the naighbours round us, all
+  By woones an' twos begun to call,
+  To meet the young vo'k, when the meaere
+  Mid bring em back a married peaeir:
+  An' all o'm zaid, to Robert's sheaere,
+  There had a-vell the feaerest feaece,
+  An' kindest heart in all the pleaece,
+    Jeaene's wedden day in mornen.
+
+
+
+
+RIVERS DON'T GI'E OUT.
+
+
+  The brook I left below the rank
+  Ov alders that do sheaede his bank,
+  A-runnen down to dreve the mill
+  Below the knap, 's a runnen still;
+  The creepen days an' weeks do vill
+    Up years, an' meaeke 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;
+  May 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 maid--as Jeaene wer--young an' feaeir,
+  An' vewer zummer-ribbons, tied
+  In Zunday knots, do feaede bezide
+  Her cheaek avore her bloom ha' died:
+    Her youth won't stay,--her rwosy look
+    'S a feaeden 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 seaeke
+    He'll gi'e us mwore than he do teaeke,--
+    His goodness don't gi'e out, John.
+
+
+
+
+MEAKEN UP A MIFF.
+
+
+  Vorgi'e me, Jenny, do! an' rise
+  Thy hangen 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 feaeir, a-walken drough
+    The pleaece the whole day long.
+
+  An' tender thoughts did melt my heart,
+  An' zwells o' viry pride did dart
+  Lik' lightnen drough my blood; a-peaert
+    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 neaeme would always be
+  The sweetest, an' my eyes would zee
+  Among all maidens 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 evenen 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 hangen boughs do meaeke a bow'r
+  Above theaese bank, wi' eltrot flow'r
+    An' robinhoods a-drest.
+
+
+
+
+HAY-MEAKEN.
+
+
+  'Tis merry ov a zummer's day,
+  Where vo'k be out a-meaeken hay;
+  Where men an' women, in a string,
+  Do ted or turn the grass, an' zing,
+  Wi' cheemen vaices, merry zongs,
+  A-tossen o' their sheenen prongs
+  Wi' eaerms a-zwangen left an' right,
+  In colour'd gowns an' shirtsleeves white;
+  Or, wider spread, a reaeken round
+  The rwosy hedges o' the ground,
+  Where Sam do zee the speckled sneaeke,
+  An' try to kill en wi' his reaeke;
+  An' Poll do jump about an' squall,
+  To zee the twisten slooworm crawl.
+
+  'Tis merry where a gay-tongued lot
+  Ov hay-meaekers be all a-squot,
+  On lightly-russlen hay, a-spread
+  Below an elem's lofty head,
+  To rest their weary limbs an' munch
+  Their bit o' dinner, or their nunch;
+  Where teethy reaekes 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 eaele,
+  Their tongues do run wi' joke an' teaele.
+
+  An' when the zun, so low an' red,
+  Do sheen above the leafy head
+  O' zome broad tree, a-rizen high
+  Avore the vi'ry western sky,
+  'Tis merry where all han's do goo
+  Athirt the groun', by two an' two,
+  A-reaeken, over humps an' hollors,
+  The russlen 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 eaerms all woys,
+  Wi' busy picks, an' proud young looks
+  A-meaeken up their tiny pooks.
+  An' zoo 'tis merry out among
+  The vo'k in hay-vield all day long.
+
+
+
+
+HAY-CARREN.
+
+
+  'Tis merry ov a zummer's day,
+  When vo'k be out a-haulen hay,
+  Where boughs, a-spread upon the ground,
+  Do meaeke the staddle big an' round;
+  An' grass do stand in pook, or lie
+  In long-back'd weaeles or parsels, dry.
+  There I do vind it stir my heart
+  To hear the frothen hosses snort,
+  A-haulen on, wi' sleek heaeir'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 eaerm,
+  That I do long to toss a pick,
+  A-pitchen or a-meaeken rick.
+
+  The bwoy is at the hosse's head,
+  An' up upon the waggon bed
+  The lwoaders, strong o' eaerm do stan',
+  At head, an' back at tail, 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 reaeky after plough.
+
+  When I do pitchy, 'tis my pride
+  Vor Jenny Hine to reaeke my zide,
+  An' zee her fling her reaeke, an' reach
+  So vur, an' teaeke in sich a streech;
+  An' I don't shatter hay, an' meaeke
+  Mwore work than needs vor Jenny's reaeke.
+  I'd sooner zee the weaeles' high rows
+  Lik' hedges up above my nose,
+  Than have light work myzelf, an' vind
+  Poor Jeaene a-beaet 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' hay do vlee.
+  While woone's unlwoaden, woone do teaeke
+  The pitches in; an' zome do meaeke
+  The lofty rick upright an' roun',
+  An' tread en hard, an' reaeke 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-carren hay.
+
+
+
+
+[Gothic: Eclogue.]
+
+THE BEST MAN IN THE VIELD.
+
+
+_Sam and Bob._
+
+
+  SAM.
+
+  That's slowish work, Bob. What'st a-been about?
+  Thy pooken don't goo on not over sprack.
+  Why I've a-pook'd my weaele, lo'k zee, clear out,
+  An' here I be ageaen a-turnen back.
+
+  BOB.
+
+  I'll work wi' thee then, Sammy, any day,
+  At any work dost like to teaeke me at,
+  Vor any money thou dost like to lay.
+  Now, Mister Sammy, what dost think o' that?
+  My weaele is nearly twice so big as thine,
+  Or else, I warnt, I shouldden be behin'.
+
+  SAM.
+
+  Ah! hang thee, Bob! don't tell sich whoppen lies.
+  _My_ weaele's the biggest, if do come to size.
+  'Tis jist the seaeme whatever bist about;
+  Why, when dost goo a-tedden grass, you sloth,
+  Another hand's a-fwo'c'd to teaeke thy zwath,
+  An' ted a half way back to help thee out;
+  An' then a-reaeken 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 teaeke a pick a-piece,
+  An' woonce theaese zummer, goo an' try
+  To meaeke 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 meaed'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-thinken that avore he should a-done en
+  He'd tumble over slap wi' him upon en.
+
+  SAM.
+
+  You yoppen dog! I warnt I meaede my rick
+  So well's thou meaed'st thy lwoad o' hay 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 vallen,
+  An' trigg'd en up wi' woone o'm's pitchen pick,
+  To zee if I could meaeke en ride to rick;
+  An' when they had the dumpy heap unboun',
+  He vell to pieces flat upon the groun'.
+
+  BOB.
+
+  Do shut thy lyen chops! What dosten mind
+  Thy pitchen to me out in Gully-plot,
+  A-meaeken o' me wait (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 beaet thee hollor.
+
+  SAM.
+
+  You snub-nos'd flopperchops! I pitch'd so quick,
+  That thou dost know thou hadst a hardish job
+  To teaeke in all the pitches off my pick;
+  An' dissen 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 meaeke me zick to hear thy braggen!
+  Why bissen strong enough to car a flagon.
+
+  SAM.
+
+  You grinnen fool! why I'd zet thee a-blowen,
+  If thou wast wi' me vor a day a-mowen.
+  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 bissen fit to goo a-vield to skimmy,
+  Or mow down docks an' thistles! Why I'll bet
+  A shillen, 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 mornen had a-drow'd
+  The grass or russlen hay abrode,
+  The lit'some maidens an' the chaps,
+  Wi' bits o' nunchens 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 meaeds, an' zummerleaezes brown,
+  An' thorns upon the zunny down,
+    While aier, vrom the rocken zedge
+    In brook, did come along the hedge,
+      Where we did keep our flagon.
+
+  There laughen chaps did try in play
+  To bury maidens up in hay,
+  As gigglen maidens 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' eaele 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' eaeperns patch'd;
+    An' she a-steaeren 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' hangen head,--
+    O' Zunday evenens 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 their tweils
+  Wi' timely bits an' draps, an' smiles;
+  An' _he_ paid all o'm at week's end,
+  Their money down to goo an' spend.
+
+  In zummer, when week's end come roun'
+  The hay-meaekers did come vrom groun',
+  An' all zit down, wi' weary bwones,
+  Within the yard a-peaeved wi' stwones,
+  Along avore the peaeles, between
+  The yard a-steaen'd an' open green.
+  There women zot wi' bare-neck'd chaps,
+  An' maidens wi' their sleeves an' flaps
+  To screen vrom het their eaerms an' polls.
+  An' men wi' beards so black as coals:
+  Girt stocky Jim, an' lanky John,
+  An' poor wold Betty dead an' gone;
+  An' cleaen-grown Tom so spry an' strong,
+  An' Liz the best to pitch a zong,
+  That now ha' nearly half a score
+  O' childern zwarmen at her door;
+  An' whindlen Ann, that cried wi' fear
+  To hear the thunder when 'twer near,--
+  A zickly maid, so peaele's the moon,
+  That voun' her zun goo down at noon;
+  An' blushen Jeaene 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 Longmeaed brook.
+
+  An' zoo, when _he_'d a-been all roun',
+  An' paid em all their wages down,
+  _She_ us'd to bring vor all, by teaele
+  A cup o' cider or ov eaele,
+  An' then a tutty meaede o' lots
+  O' blossoms vrom her flower-nots,
+  To wear in bands an' button-holes
+  At church, an' in their evenen 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 eaerly bed.
+  She didden put in honeyzuck:
+  She'd nwone, she zaid, that she could pluck
+  Avore wild honeyzucks, a-vound
+  In ev'ry hedge ov ev'ry ground.
+
+  Zoo maid an' woman, bwoy an' man,
+  Went off, while zunzet air did fan
+  Their merry zunburnt feaezen; zome
+  Down leaene, an' zome drough parrocks hwome.
+
+  Ah! who can tell, that ha'nt a-vound,
+  The sweets o' week's-end comen 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 peaert,
+  To seaeve his soul an' cheer his heart.
+
+
+
+
+THE MEAD A-MOW'D.
+
+
+  When sheaedes do vall into ev'ry hollow,
+    An' reach vrom trees half athirt the groun';
+  An' banks an' walls be a-looken yollow,
+    That be a-turn'd to the zun gwain down;
+          Drough hay in cock, O,
+          We all do vlock, O,
+    Along our road vrom the meaed a-mow'd.
+
+  An' when the last swayen 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 reaeke an' pick,
+          Wi' empty flagon,
+          Behind the waggon,
+    To teaeke our road vrom the meaed a-mow'd.
+
+  When church is out, an' we all so slowly
+    About the knap be a-spreaden wide,
+  How gay the paths be where we do strolly
+    Along the leaene an' the hedge's zide;
+          But nwone's a voun', O,
+          Up hill or down, O,
+    So gay's the road drough the meaed a-mow'd.
+
+  An' when the visher do come, a-drowen
+    His flutt'ren line over bleaedy zedge,
+  Drough groun's wi' red thissle-heads a-blowen,
+    An' watchen o't by the water's edge;
+          Then he do love, O,
+          The best to rove, O,
+    Along his road drough the meaed a-mow'd.
+
+
+
+
+THE SKY A-CLEAREN.
+
+
+  The dreven scud that overcast
+  The zummer sky is all a-past,
+  An' softer air, a-blowen drough
+  The quiv'ren boughs, do sheaeke the vew
+  Last rain drops off the leaves lik' dew;
+    An' peaeviers, now a-getten dry,
+    Do steam below the zunny sky
+      That's now so vast a-cleaeren.
+
+  The sheaedes that wer a-lost below
+  The stormy cloud, ageaen do show
+  Their mocken sheaepes below the light;
+  An' house-walls be a-looken 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-clearen.
+
+  Below the hill's an ash; below
+  The ash, white elder-flow'rs do blow:
+  Below the elder is a bed
+  O' robinhoods o' blushen red;
+  An' there, wi' nunches all a-spread,
+    The hay-meaekers, wi' each a cup
+    O' drink, do smile to zee hold up
+      The rain, an' sky a-cleaeren.
+
+  'Mid blushen maidens, wi' their zong,
+  Still draw their white-stemm'd reaekes among
+  The long-back'd weaeles an' new-meaede pooks,
+  By brown-stemm'd trees an' cloty brooks;
+  But have noo call to spweil their looks
+    By work, that God could never meaeke
+    Their weaker han's to underteaeke,
+      Though skies mid be a-cleaeren.
+
+  'Tis wrong vor women's han's to clips
+  The zull an' reap-hook, speaedes an' whips;
+  An' men abroad, should leaeve, by right,
+  Woone faithful 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-cleaeren.
+
+
+
+
+THE EVENEN STAR O' ZUMMER.
+
+
+  When vu'st along theaese road vrom mill,
+  I zeed ye hwome all up the hill,
+  The poplar tree, so straight an' tall,
+  Did rustle by the watervall;
+  An' in the leaeze the cows wer all
+    A-lyen down to teaeke their rest
+    An' slowly zunk toward the west
+      The evenen star o' zummer.
+
+  In parrock there the hay did lie
+  In weaele 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-watchen in the West
+    Woone brighter star than all the rest,--
+      The evenen 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 peaele star above
+    My smilen Jeaene, my zweet vu'st love,
+      The evenen star o' zummer.
+
+  How sweet's the mornen fresh an' new,
+  Wi' sparklen brooks an' glitt'ren dew;
+  How sweet's the noon wi' sheaedes a-drow'd
+  Upon the groun' but leaetely mow'd,
+  An' bloomen flowers all abrode;
+    But sweeter still, as I do clim',
+    Theaese woody hill in evenen dim
+      'S the evenen star o' zummer.
+
+
+
+
+THE CLOTE.
+
+_(Water-lily.)_
+
+
+  O zummer clote! when the brook's a-gliden
+    So slow an' smooth down his zedgy bed,
+  Upon thy broad leaves so seaefe a-riden
+    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-leaenen lowly
+    Above the water thy leaves do hide;
+  The benden bulrush, a-swayen 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-drinken flow'r's a-blowen,
+    The burnen zummer's a-zetten in;
+  The time o' greenness, the time o' mowen,
+    When in the hay-vield, wi' zunburnt skin,
+        The vo'k do drink, O,
+        Upon the brink, O,
+  Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!
+
+  Wi' eaerms a-spreaden, an' cheaeks a-blowen,
+    How proud wer I when I vu'st could zwim
+  Athirt the pleaece where thou bist a-growen,
+    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 meaeds a-winden,
+    Ov all the meaeds by a river's brim,
+  There's nwone so feaeir o' my own heart's vinden,
+    As where the maidens do zee thee swim,
+        An' stan' to teaeke, O,
+        Wi' long-stemm'd reaeke, O,
+  Thy flow'r afloat, goolden zummer clote!
+
+
+
+
+I GOT TWO VIELDS.
+
+
+  I got two vields, an' I don't ceaere
+  What squire mid have a bigger sheaere.
+  My little zummer-leaeze do stratch
+  All down the hangen, to a patch
+  O' meaed between a hedge an' rank
+  Ov elems, an' a river bank.
+  Where yollow clotes, in spreaden beds
+  O' floaten leaves, do lift their heads
+  By benden bulrushes an' zedge
+  A-swayen 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 slanten evenen light;
+  An' in the meaeple boughs, along
+  The hedge, do ring the blackbird's zong;
+  Or in the day, a-vleen 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 leaene do goo along the leaeze
+  O' yollow gravel, down between
+  Two mossy banks vor ever green.
+  An' trees, a-hangen overhead,
+  Do hide a trinklen gully-bed,
+  A-cover'd by a bridge vor hoss
+  Or man a-voot to come across.
+  Zoo wi' my hwomestead, I don't ceaere
+  What squire mid have a bigger sheaere!
+
+
+
+
+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 evenen, 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' teaev'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-runnen, 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' runnen, lik' a cat I vled,
+  An' out o' window put my head
+      To zee if he wer gone.
+
+  An' there he wer, a-prowlen 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 meaere to drow me off, nor tip
+  Me out o' cart ageaen, nor slip
+      Cut hoss-heaeir down my neck.
+
+
+
+
+BE'MI'STER.
+
+
+  Sweet Be'mi'ster, that bist a-bound
+  By green an' woody hills all round,
+  Wi' hedges, reachen up between
+  A thousan' vields o' zummer green,
+  Where elems' lofty heads do drow
+  Their sheaedes vor hay-meakers below,
+  An' wild hedge-flow'rs do charm the souls
+  O' maidens in their evenen strolls.
+
+  When I o' Zunday nights wi' Jeaene
+  Do saunter drough a vield or leaene,
+  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 Jeaen's gay frock o' dazzlen white;
+
+  Oh! then there's nothen that's 'ithout
+  Thy hills that I do ho about,--
+  Noo bigger pleaece, noo gayer town,
+  Beyond thy sweet bells' dyen soun',
+  As they do ring, or strike the hour,
+  At evenen 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 meaed last week,
+  A-thatchen 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 meaere, wi' neck a-freed
+  Vrom Zummer work, did snort an' veed;
+  An' in the sheaede o' leafy boughs,
+  My vew wold ragged-cwoated cows
+  Did rub their zides upon the rails,
+  Or switch em wi' their heaeiry tails.
+
+  An' as the mornen zun rose high
+  Above my mossy roof clwose by,
+  The blue smoke curreled up between
+  The lofty trees o' feaeden green:
+  A zight that's touchen when do show
+  A busy wife is down below,
+  A-worken hard to cheer woone's tweil
+  Wi' her best feaere, 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 faithvul hands when I be dead,
+  An' noo good men in ouer land
+  Think lightly o' the wedden band.
+  True happiness do bide alwone
+  Wi' them that ha' their own he'th-stwone
+  To gather wi' their childern roun',
+  A-smilen at the worold's frown.
+
+  My bwoys, that brought me thatch an' spars,
+  Wer down a-taiten on the bars,
+  Or zot a-cutten wi' a knife,
+  Dry eltrot-roots to meaeke a fife;
+  Or dreven woone another round
+  The rick upon the grassy ground.
+  An', as the aier vrom the west
+  Did fan my burnen feaece an' breast,
+  An' hoppen birds, wi' twitt'ren beaks,
+  Did show their sheenen 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 pleaece,
+  An' look the best man in the feaece.
+  What good do come to eaechen heads,
+  O' lien down in silken beds?
+  Or what's a coach, if woone do pine
+  To zee woone's naighbour's twice so fine?
+  Contentment is a constant feaest,
+  He's richest that do want the leaest.
+
+
+
+
+BEES A-ZWARMEN.
+
+
+  Avore we went a-milken, vive
+  Or six o's here wer all alive
+  A-teaeken bees that zwarm'd vrom hive;
+    An' we'd sich work to catch
+  The hummen 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 beaet a cannister, an' Nan
+  Did bang the little fryen-pan
+    Wi' thick an' thumpen blows;
+  An' Tom went on, a-carren roun'
+  A bee-pot up upon his crown,
+  Wi' all his edge a-reachen down
+    Avore his eyes an' nose.
+
+  An' woone girt bee, wi' spitevul hum,
+  Stung Dicky's lip, an' meaede it come
+  All up amost so big's a plum;
+    An' zome, a-vleen on,
+  Got all roun' Liz, an' meaede her hop
+  An' scream, a-twirlen 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' meaede en pitch
+  Right down, head-voremost, into ditch,--
+    Tom coulden zee a wink.
+  An' when the zwarm wer seaefe an' sound
+  In mother's bit o' bee-pot ground,
+  She meaede us up a treat all round
+    O' sillibub to drink.
+
+
+
+
+READEN OV A HEAD-STWONE.
+
+
+  As I wer readen ov a stwone
+  In Grenley church-yard all alwone,
+  A little maid 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 zaid,
+    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 Meaery, gi'e me greaece
+  To vind, lik' thee, a better pleaece,
+  Where I woonce mwore mid zee thy feaece;
+    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' leaed, 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 teaeke it right,
+  Do show He'll meaeke 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 EVENEN DANCE.
+
+
+  Come out to the parrock, come out to the tree,
+  The maidens an' chaps be a-waiten vor thee;
+  There's Jim wi' his fiddle to play 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 hangen among
+  The bushes, to put in thy weaest; an' the zong
+  O' the nightingeaele's heaerd in the hedges all roun';
+  An' I'll get thee a glow-worm to stick in thy gown.
+
+  There's Meaery 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-waggen his prongs.
+
+  Zoo come to the parrock, come out to the tree,
+  The maidens an' chaps be a-waiten vor thee;
+  There's Jim wi' his fiddle to play 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 veaeiry 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 meaeke it, I do wonder?
+
+  SIMON.
+
+  Be hang'd if I can tell, I'm sure! But zome
+  Do zay do come by lightnen when do thunder;
+  An' zome do say sich rings as thik ring there is,
+  Do grow in dancen-tracks o' little veaeiries,
+  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 veaeiry too, or else wold Nick!
+
+  SIMON.
+
+  Why, they do zay, that at the veaeiries' ball,
+  There's nar a fiddle that's a-heaer'd at all;
+  But they do play upon a little pipe
+  A-meaede o' kexes or o' straws, dead ripe,
+  A-stuck in row (zome short an' longer zome)
+  Wi' slime o' snails, or bits o' plum-tree gum,
+  An' meaeke sich music that to hear it sound,
+  You'd stick so still's a pollard to the ground.
+
+  SAMEL.
+
+  What do em dance? 'Tis plain by theaese green wheels,
+  They don't frisk in an' out in dree-hand reels;
+  Vor else, instead o' theaese here girt round O,
+  The'd cut us out a figure aight (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 veaeiries, then, in theaesem gambols.
+
+  SIMON.
+
+  Why, yes; but they be off lik' any shot,
+  So soon's a man's a-comen near the spot
+
+  SAMEL.
+
+  But in the day-time where do veaeiries hide?
+  Where be their hwomes, then? where do veaeiries bide?
+
+  SIMON.
+
+  Oh! they do get away down under ground,
+  In hollow pleaezen where they can't be vound.
+  But still my gramfer, many years agoo,
+  (He liv'd at Grenley-farm, an milk'd a deaeiry),
+  If what the wolder vo'k do tell is true,
+  Woone mornen eaerly vound a veaeiry.
+
+  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 veaeiries 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 utteren 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 meaed a-stannen by.
+  An' woone o'm drink'd so much, he coulden mind
+  The word he wer to zay to meaeke en small;
+  He got a-dather'd zoo, that after all
+  Out tothers went an' left en back behind.
+  An' after he'd a-beaet about his head,
+  Ageaen 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 en)
+  Bolt out o' door, an' down the road lik' lightenen.
+
+
+
+
+FALL.
+
+
+
+
+CORN A-TURNEN YOLLOW.
+
+
+  The windless copse ha' sheaedy boughs,
+    Wi' blackbirds' evenen whistles;
+  The hills ha' sheep upon their brows,
+    The zummerleaeze ha' thistles:
+  The meaeds be gay in grassy May,
+    But, oh! vrom hill to hollow,
+  Let me look down upon a groun'
+    O' corn a-turnen yollow.
+
+  An' pease do grow in tangled beds,
+    An' beaens be sweet to snuff, O;
+  The teaeper 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-turnen 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 leaezers 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 Zidelen 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 eaernest, ev'ry woone
+      A-haulen o' the corn.
+
+  The hosses, wi' the het an' lwoad,
+    Did froth, an' zwang vrom zide to zide,
+  A-gwain along the dousty road,
+    An' seem'd as if they would a-died.
+  An' wi' my collar all undone,
+  An' neck a-burnen wi' the zun,
+  I got, wi' work, an' doust, an' het,
+  So dry at last, I coulden spet,
+        A-haulen o' the corn.
+
+  At uncle's orcha'd, gwain 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 squail'd her, though, an' meaede her run;
+  An' zoo she gie'd me, vor a treat,
+  A lot o' stubberds vor to eat.
+        A-haulen o' the corn.
+
+  An' up at rick, Jeaene took the flagon,
+    An' gi'ed us out zome eaele; 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' nodden poppies bright an' red,
+  As we wer catchen vrom our laps,
+  Below a woak, our bits an' draps,
+        A-haulen o' the corn.
+
+
+
+
+HARVEST HWOME.
+
+_The vu'st peaert. The Supper._
+
+
+  Since we wer striplens naighbour 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 jumpen mad
+      Wi' feaesten an' wi' fun.
+
+  At uncle's, I do mind, woone year,
+  I zeed a vill o' hearty cheer;
+  Fat beef an' pudden, eaele 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 teaeble-bwoard o' planks,
+      Wi' uncle at the top.
+
+  An' there, in platters, big and brown,
+  Wer red fat beaecon, an' a roun'
+  O' beef wi' gravy that would drown
+      A little rwoasten pig;
+  Wi' beaens an' teaeties vull a zack,
+  An' cabbage that would meaeke a stack,
+  An' puddens brown, a-speckled black
+      Wi' figs, so big's my wig.
+
+  An' uncle, wi' his elbows out,
+  Did carve, an' meaeke the gravy spout;
+  An' aunt did gi'e the mugs about
+      A-frothen to the brim.
+  Pleaetes 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' beaet the bwoard,
+  An' swung their eaerms about, an' roar'd,
+      Enough to crack woone's head.
+
+
+
+
+HARVEST HWOME.
+
+_Second Peaert. What they did after Supper._
+
+
+  Zoo after supper wer a-done,
+  They clear'd the teaebles, 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 teaeles, an' laugh an' joke,
+  A-looken at the younger vo'k,
+    That got up vor a hop.
+
+  Woone screaep'd away, wi' merry grin,
+  A fiddle stuck below his chin;
+  An' woone o'm took the rollen pin,
+      An' beaet the fryen pan.
+  An' tothers, dancen to the soun',
+  Went in an' out, an' droo an' roun',
+  An' kick'd, an' beaet the tuen down,
+      A-laughen, maid an' man.
+
+  An' then a maid, 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-playen blindman's buff,
+  An' sard the maidens pretty rough,
+      When woonce they had a-got em.
+
+  An' zome did drink, an' laugh, an' roar,
+  An' lots o' teaeles 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' meaeke the girt wold kitchen ring;
+  Till uncle's cock, wi' flappen wing,
+      Stratch'd out his neck an' crow'd.
+
+
+
+
+A ZONG OV HARVEST HWOME.
+
+
+  The ground is clear. There's nar a ear
+    O' stannen corn a-left out now,
+  Vor win' to blow or rain to drow;
+    'Tis all up seaefe 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 Meaeker 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 nothen 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'ren meal:
+    Mid's water never overflow
+    His dousty mill, nor zink too low,
+    Vrom now till wheat ageaen 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 pay the malter's pains;
+  An' mid noo hurt bevall the wort,
+    A-bweilen vrom the brewer's grains.
+    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' jay the beaeker pay,
+    As he do hear his vier roar,
+  Or nimbly catch his hot white batch,
+    A-reeken 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' jay o' heart mid shooters start
+    The whirren 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 eaerms,
+    In goolden zunsheen free o' storms,
+    Rejaicen 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 jail
+  A-hangen up upon a nail,
+  Ageaen the elem tree, avore
+  The house, jist over-right the door,
+  An' twitted vo'k a-passen by
+  A-most so plain as you or I;
+  Vor hardly any day did pass
+  'Ithout Tom's teachen 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 leaene a-whisslen 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 ageaen the door.
+  Zoo out run Poll an' Tom, to zee
+  What all the meaenen o't mid be;
+  "Now who did that?" zaid Poll. "Who whurr'd
+  Theaese clot?" "Girt Soft-poll!" cried the bird.
+
+  An' when Tom catch'd a glimpse o' Jim,
+  A-looken all so red an' slim,
+  An' slinken on, he vled, red hot,
+  Down leaene 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-smilen at the hatch.
+  An' zoo he vollow'd en for two
+  Or dree stwones' drows, an' let en goo.
+
+
+
+
+THE IVY.
+
+
+  Upon theaese knap I'd sooner be
+  The ivy that do climb the tree,
+  Than bloom the gayest rwose a-tied
+  An' trimm'd upon the house's zide.
+  The rwose mid be the maidens' 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 creepen sheaede 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 rain do wet.
+    An' evenen air do bring along
+    The merry deaeiry-maiden's zong,
+      The zong of free light hearts, John.
+
+  Oh! why do vo'k so often chain
+  Their pinen minds vor love o' gain,
+  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 nothen in his zight
+      'Ithout an honest heart, John.
+
+  An ugly feaece can't bribe the brooks
+  To show it back young han'some looks,
+  Nor crooked vo'k intice the light
+  To cast their zummer sheaedes upright:
+  Noo goold can blind our Meaeker'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 evenen the zun's a-zinken,
+    A drowen sheaedes vrom the yollow west,
+  An' mother, weary, 's a-zot a thinken,
+    Wi' vwolded eaerms by the vire at rest,
+          Then we do zwarm, O,
+          Wi' such a charm, O,
+    So vull o' glee by the welshnut tree.
+
+  A-leaeven father in-doors, a-leinen'
+    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 play 'thread the woman's needle.'
+    An' slap the maidens a-darten 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-stealen by,
+  Where there's a dark cunnen pleaece, 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-most to vlee to the welshnut tree.
+
+  An' when, at last, at the drashel, mother
+    Do call us, smilen, 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-reaeven west winds; as you do roar on,
+    The elems do rock an' the poplars do ply,
+  An' weaeve do dreve weaeve in the dark-water'd pon',--
+    Oh! where do ye rise vrom, an' where do ye die?
+
+  O wild-reaeven 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 theaese rock I could hear,
+    In the soft-zwellen sounds you do leaeve 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-reaeven 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-thinken o' hwome.
+
+
+
+
+GRENLEY WATER.
+
+
+  The sheaedeless 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 laggen moon mid fail 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 evenen sheaedes that trees cast down
+  Vrom lofty stems athirt the groun';
+  An' in at house the mug went roun',
+    While ev'ry merry man prais'd up
+    The pretty maid that vill'd his cup,
+      The maid o' Grenley Water.
+
+  There I do seem ageaen 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 blushen look,
+    Car on her pail, or come to dip
+    Wi' ceaereful step, her pitcher's lip
+      Down into Grenley Water.
+
+  If I'd a farm wi' vower ploughs,
+  An' vor my deaeiry 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 growen pride
+    Should ever meaeke me cast azide
+      The maid 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 sheaedy nook;
+    Then softly, in the evenen, down
+    The knap do steal along the groun'
+      The veaeiry veet that I do meet
+      Below the row o' beech trees.
+
+  'Tis jist avore the candle-light
+  Do redden windows up at night,
+  An' peaeler stars do light the vogs
+  A-risen vrom the brooks an' bogs,
+  An' when in barkens yoppen dogs
+    Do bark at vo'k a-comen near,
+    Or growl a-lis'enen to hear
+      The veaeiry veet that I do meet
+      Below the row o' beech trees.
+
+  Dree times a-year do bless the road
+  O' womanhood a-gwain abrode:
+  When vu'st her litty veet do tread
+  The eaerly May's white deaeisy bed:
+  When leaves be all a-scattered dead;
+    An' when the winter's vrozen grass
+    Do glissen in the zun lik' glass
+      Vor veaeiry veet that I do meet
+      Below the row o' beech trees.
+
+
+
+
+MORNEN.
+
+
+  When vu'st the breaken day is red,
+    An' grass is dewy wet,
+  An' roun' the blackberry's a-spread
+    The spider's gliss'nen net,
+  Then I do dreve the cows across
+    The brook that's in a vog,
+  While they do trot, an' bleaere, an' toss
+    Their heads to hook the dog;
+  Vor the cock do gi'e me warnen,
+        An' light or dark,
+        So brisk's a lark,
+    I'm up at break o' mornen.
+
+  Avore the maiden's sleep's a-broke
+    By window-striken zun,
+  Avore the busy wife's vu'st smoke
+    Do curl above the tun,
+  My day's begun. An' when the zun
+    'S a-zinken in the west,
+  The work the mornen brought's a-done,
+    An' I do goo to rest,
+  Till the cock do gi'e me warnen;
+        An' light or dark,
+        So brisk's a lark,
+    I'm up ageaen nex' mornen.
+
+  We can't keep back the daily zun,
+    The wind is never still,
+  An' never ha' the streams a-done
+    A-runnen 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 wait vor man,
+  As the cock do gi'e me warnen;
+        When, light or dark,
+        So brisk's a lark,
+    I'm up so rathe in mornen.
+
+  We've leaezes where the air do blow,
+    An' meaeds wi' deaeiry cows,
+  An' copse wi' lewth an' sheaede below
+    The overhangen boughs.
+ An' when the zun, noo time can tire,
+    'S a-quench'd below the west,
+  Then we've, avore the bleaezen vire,
+    A settle vor to rest,--
+  To be up ageaen nex' mornen
+        So brisk's a lark,
+        When, light or dark,
+    The cock do gi'e us warnen.
+
+
+
+
+OUT A-NUTTEN.
+
+
+  Last week, when we'd a haul'd the crops,
+  We went a-nutten out in copse,
+  Wi' nutten-bags to bring hwome vull,
+  An' beaky nutten-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-gwain a-nutten.
+
+  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 nutten.
+
+  We voun' zome bushes that did feaece
+  The downcast zunlight's highest pleaece,
+  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 sneaeke,
+  An' jump'd off into zome girt breaeke,
+  An' tore the bag where she'd a-put
+  Her sheaere, an' shatter'd ev'ry nut.
+  An' out in vield we all zot roun'
+  A white-stemm'd woak upon the groun',
+  Where yollor evenen light did strik'
+  Drough yollow leaves, that still wer thick
+      In time o' nutten,
+
+  An' twold ov all the luck we had
+  Among the bushes, good an' bad!
+  Till all the maidens left the bwoys,
+  An' skipp'd about the leaeze 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-nutten.
+
+
+
+
+TEAKEN IN APPLES.
+
+
+  We took the apples in last week,
+  An' got, by night, zome eaechen backs
+  A-stoopen 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' loppen Jim,
+  An' little Dick, an' Fan, an' I.
+
+  An' there the lwoaded tree bent low,
+  Behung wi' apples green an' red;
+  An' springen grass could hardly grow,
+  Drough windvalls down below his head.
+  An' when the maidens come in roun'
+  The heavy boughs to vill their laps,
+  We slily shook the apples down
+  Lik' hail, an' gi'ed their backs some raps.
+
+  An' zome big apple, Jimmy flung
+  To squail me, gi'ed me sich a crack;
+  But very shortly his ear rung,
+  Wi' woone I zent to pay en back.
+  An' after we'd a-had our squails,
+  Poor Tom, a-jumpen in a bag,
+  Wer pinch'd by all the maiden's nails,
+  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-straight, 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 sparklen zun is down:
+  The zummer's gone, an' days so feaeir
+  As theaese be now a-getten reaere.
+  The night, wi' mwore than daylight's sheaere
+    O' wat'ry sky, do wet wi' dew
+    The ee-grass up above woone's shoe,
+      An' meaeple leaves be yollow.
+
+  The last hot doust, above the road,
+  An' vu'st dead leaves ha' been a-blow'd
+  By playsome win's where spring did spread
+  The blossoms that the zummer shed;
+  An' near blue sloos an' conkers red
+    The evenen zun, a zetten soon,
+    Do leaeve a-quiv'ren to the moon,
+      The meaeple leaves so yollow.
+
+  Zoo come along, an' let's injay
+  The last fine weather while do stay;
+  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 meaeple leaves be yollow.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT A-ZETTEN IN.
+
+
+  When leaezers wi' their laps o' corn
+    Noo longer be a-stoopen,
+  An' in the stubble, all vorlorn,
+    Noo poppies be a-droopen;
+  When theaese young harvest-moon do weaene,
+    That now've his horns so thin, O,
+  We'll leaeve off walken in the leaene,
+    While night's a zetten in, O.
+
+  When zummer doust is all a-laid
+    Below our litty shoes, O;
+  When all the rain-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 leaeve off walken in the road,
+    When night's a-zetten in, O.
+
+  But now, while barley by the road
+    Do hang upon the bough, O,
+  A-pull'd by branches off the lwoad
+    A-riden 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-zetten in, O.
+
+  While down at vword the brook so small,
+    That leaetely wer so high, O,
+  Wi' little tinklen sounds do vall
+    In roun' the stwones half dry, O;
+  While twilight ha' sich air in store,
+    To cool our zunburnt skin, O,
+  We'll have a ramble out o' door,
+    When night's a-zetten in, O.
+
+
+
+
+THE WEATHER-BEATEN TREE.
+
+
+  The woaken tree, a-beaet 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'ren bennets, beaere to all
+  The dreven winds o' dark'nen fall.
+  An' zoo in tryen hardships we
+  Be lik' the weather beaeten tree.
+
+  But He will never meaeke our sheaere
+  O' sorrow mwore than we can bear,
+  But meaeke 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-dancen roun' the woaken tree.
+
+  True love's the ivy that do twine
+  Unwith'ren roun' his mossy rine,
+  When winter's zickly zun do sheen
+  Upon its leaves o' glossy green,
+  So patiently a-holden vast
+  Till storms an' cwold be all a-past,
+  An' only liven vor to be
+  A-meaeted to the woaken tree.
+
+
+
+
+SHRODON FEAeIR.
+
+_The vu'st Peaert._
+
+
+  An' zoo's the day wer warm an' bright,
+  An' nar a cloud wer up in zight,
+  We wheedled father vor the meaere
+  An' cart, to goo to Shrodon feaeir.
+  An' Poll an' Nan run off up stairs,
+  To shift their things, as wild as heaeres;
+  An' pull'd out, each o'm vrom her box,
+  Their snow-white leaece an' newest frocks,
+  An' put their bonnets on, a-lined
+  Wi' blue, an' sashes tied behind;
+  An' turn'd avore the glass their feaece
+  An' back, to zee their things in pleaece;
+  While Dick an' I did brush our hats
+  An' cwoats, an' cleaen ourzelves lik' cats.
+  At woone or two o'clock, we vound
+  Ourzelves at Shrodon seaefe an' sound,
+  A-strutten in among the rows
+  O' tilted stannens an' o' shows,
+  An' girt long booths wi' little bars
+  Chock-vull o' barrels, mugs, an' jars,
+  An' meat a-cooken 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' bawlen merrymen did tumble;
+  An' woone did all but want an edge
+  To peaert 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 ageaen so white as snow.
+  An' after that, he fried a fat
+  Girt ceaeke inzide o' my new hat;
+  An' yet, vor all he did en brown,
+  He didden even zweal the crown.
+
+
+
+
+SHRODON FEAeR.
+
+_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 meaede leaest, wi' all his sheaekes,
+  An' paid the money vor the ceaekes,
+  But wer so lwoth to put it down
+  As if a penny wer a poun'.
+  Then up come zidelen Sammy Heaere,
+  That's fond o' Poll, an' she can't bear,
+  A-holden out his girt scram vist,
+  An' ax'd her, wi' a grin an' twist,
+  To have zome nuts; an' she, to hide
+  Her laughen, 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-riden round
+  Drough Okford, who d'ye think we vound
+  But Sam ageaen, a-gwaein vrom feaeir
+  Astride his broken-winded meaere.
+  An' zoo, a-hetten her, he tried
+  To keep up clwose by ouer zide:
+  But when we come to Hayward-brudge,
+  Our Poll gi'ed Dick a meaenen nudge,
+  An' wi' a little twitch our meaere
+  Flung out her lags so lights a heaere,
+  An' left poor Sammy's skin an' bwones
+  Behind, a-kicken o' the stwones.
+
+
+
+
+MARTIN'S TIDE.
+
+
+  Come, bring a log o' cleft wood, Jack,
+  An' fling en on ageaen 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 feaeir,
+  When Jeaene an' I, a happy peaeir,
+  Vu'st walk'd, a-keepen up the tide,
+  Among the stan'ens, zide by zide;
+  An' thik day twel'month, never failen,
+  She gi'ed me at the chancel railen
+  A heart--though I do sound her praise--
+  As true as ever beaet in stays.
+  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 play'd
+  In fun, to outwit chap or maid.
+  An' out avore the bleaezen he'th,
+  Our naisy tongues, in winter me'th,
+  'V a-shook the warmen-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' meaede 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 fleaemes, arisen up so high
+  'S the tun, did snap, an' roar, an' ply,
+    Lik' vier in an' oven.
+
+  An' zome wi' hissen squibs did run,
+  To pay off zome what they'd a-done,
+  An' let em off so loud's a gun
+    Ageaen their smoken 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-tail gone,
+  An' tother jist a-hangen 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 gwain to market, I do zee.
+  Why, you be quite a-lwoaded wi' your geese.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  Ees, Thomas, ees.
+  Why, I'm a-getten rid ov ev'ry goose
+  An' goslen 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 pay twenty shillens 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 mean to teaeke 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 gwain 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' meaeke a little rick;
+  An' in the zummer, while do grow,
+  My cow do run in common vor to pick
+  A bleaede or two o' grass, if she can vind em,
+  Vor tother cattle don't leaeve much behind em.
+  Zoo in the evenen, 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 zeaele 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 feaest,--vor we be eaeble
+  To clap the giblets up a-top o' teaeble.
+
+  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' nothen else to do,
+  Why I can teaeke my hook an' gloves, an' goo
+  To cut a lot o' vuzz and briars
+  Vor heten ovens, or vor lighten viers.
+  An' when the childern be too young to eaern
+  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 teaeke it vrom en.
+  But I wer twold back tother day,
+  That they be got into a way
+  O' letten 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 meaester soon, then, I do vind;
+  He's gwain to leaeve his farm, as I do larn,
+  At Mielmas; an' I be zorry vor'n.
+  What, is he then a little bit behind?
+
+  THOMAS.
+
+  O no! at Mielmas his time is up,
+  An' thik there sly wold fellow, Farmer Tup,
+  A-fearen 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 meaester zoo?
+
+  THOMAS.
+
+  Why, he an' meaester had a word or two.
+
+  ROBERT.
+
+  Is Farmer Tup a-gwain to leaeve his farm?
+  He han't a-got noo young woones vor to zwarm.
+  Poor over-reachen 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 eaecre
+  Or two o' ground a-rented by the beaeker,
+  An' what the butcher had to keep his hoss;
+  An' vo'k do beaenhan' now, that meaester's lot
+  Will be a-drowd along wi' what he got.
+
+  ROBERT.
+
+  That's it. In theaese here pleaece 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 been 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 leaeb'ren men;
+  An' many leaeb'ren 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' teaeke 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 skeae'ce, woone got no scope;
+  If woone could seaeve 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-drashen half the winter drough;
+  An' now, woone's drashels be'n't a bit o' good.
+  They got machines to drashy wi', plague teaeke em!
+  An' he that vu'st vound out the way to meaeke em,
+  I'd drash his busy zides vor'n if I could!
+  Avore they took away our work, they ought
+  To meaeke us up the bread our leaebour bought.
+
+  ROBERT.
+
+  They hadden need meaeke poor men's leaebour less,
+  Vor work a'ready is uncommon skeae'ce.
+
+  THOMAS.
+
+  Ah! Robert! times be badish vor the poor;
+  An' worse will come, I be a-fear'd, if Moore
+  In theaese 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 sheaedes do lie below
+  The winter ricks a-tipp'd wi' snow,
+  An' lively birds, wi' waggen tails,
+  Do hop upon the icy rails,
+  An' rime do whiten all the tops
+  O' bush an' tree in hedge an' copse,
+    In wind's a-cutten keen.
+
+  Come, maidens, come: the groun's a-vroze
+  Too hard to-night to spweil your clothes.
+  You got noo pools to waddle drough,
+  Nor clay a-pullen 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-cutten keen.
+
+  Vor young men's hearts an' maiden'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'ren red
+  Drough vrosty window-peaenes, do spread
+  Vrom wall to wall, vrom he'th to door,
+  Vor us to goo an' zit avore,
+    Vrom winds a-cutten keen.
+
+
+
+
+A BIT O' FUN.
+
+
+  We thought you woulden leaeve us quite
+  So soon as what you did last night;
+  Our fun jist got up to a height
+    As you about got hwome.
+  The frisken chaps did skip about,
+  An' cou'se the maidens in an' out,
+  A-meaeken such a randy-rout,
+    You coulden hear a drum.
+
+  An' Tom, a-springen 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-hoppen back vor fear
+  O' Tom, struck uncle zomewhere near,
+  An' meaede 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-jumpen in a zack.
+
+  An' in a twinklen tother chaps
+  Jist hung en to a crook wi' straps,
+  An' meaede en bear the maidens' slaps,
+    An' prickens wi' a pin.
+  An' Jim, a-catchen 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' meaede a circle roun' the he'th,
+  A-keepen 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 maidens 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-meaeken fun!
+  What playsome anticks zome [=o]'s done!
+    An' how, a-reelen roun' an' roun',
+    We beaet the merry tuen down,
+      While music wer a-sounden!
+
+  The maidens' eyes o' black an' blue
+  Did glisten lik' the mornen dew;
+  An' while the cider-mug did stand
+  A-hissen by the bleaezen brand,
+  An' uncle's pipe wer in his hand,
+    How little he or we did think
+    How peaele the zetten stars did blink
+      While music wer a-sounden.
+
+  An' Fanny's last young _teen_ begun,
+  Poor maid, wi' thik day's risen 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-sounden.
+
+  An' then we did all kinds o' tricks
+  Wi' han'kerchiefs, an' strings, an' sticks:
+  An' woone did try to overmatch
+  Another wi' zome cunnen catch,
+  While tothers slyly tried to hatch
+    Zome geaeme; but yet, by chap an' maid.
+    The dancen wer the mwost injay'd,
+      While music wer a-sounden.
+
+  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 maidens screamen out,
+    A-thinken, wi' his strides an' stamps,
+    He'd squot their veet wi' his girt clamps,
+      While music wer a-sounden.
+
+  Then up jump'd uncle vrom his chair,
+  An' pull'd out aunt to meaeke a peaeir;
+  An' off he zet upon his tooe,
+  So light's the best that beaet a shoe,
+  Wi' aunt a-crien "Let me goo:"
+    While all ov us did laugh so loud,
+    We drown'd the tuen o' the croud,
+      While music wer a-sounden.
+
+  A-comen out o' passage, Nan,
+  Wi' pipes an' cider in her han',
+  An' watchen 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-sounden.
+
+
+
+
+WHAT DICK AN' I DID.
+
+
+  Last week the Browns ax'd nearly all
+    The naighbours 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, looken roun', Dick whisper'd "How
+    Is theaese job to be done, min:
+  Why we do want a faggot now,
+    Vor stoppen up the tun, min."
+
+  "Stan' still," I answer'd; "I'll teaeke ceaere
+    O' that: why dussen zee
+  The little grinden stwone out there,
+    Below the apple-tree?
+  Put up the ladder; in a crack
+    Shalt zee that I wull run, min,
+  An' teaeke 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 ageaen, 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 maidens 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-runnen 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 grinden-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-chucklen 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 wedden shoes,
+  An' her flat spreaden 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 stockens o' gramfer's a-knit wi' clocks,
+  An' a token she kept under lock an' key,--
+  A small lock ov his heaeir 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 wedden shoes.
+
+  She could tell us such teaeles about heavy snows,
+  An' o' rains 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' peaerties 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 heaer em zing
+  The wold carols she heaerd many years a-gone,
+  While she warm'd em zome cider avore the bron';
+        An' she'd look an' smile
+        At our dancen, 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 meaeke twoast an' eaele upon Chris'mas eves;
+        But she's now, drough greaece,
+        In a better pleaece,
+  Though we'll never vorget her, poor soul, nor lose
+  Gramfer's token ov heaeir, nor her wedden 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-dreven rain an' mist,
+  Do now drow sheaedes out, long an' still;
+  But roaren watervals do vill
+  Their whirlen pools below the hill,
+    Where, wi' her pail upon the stile,
+    A-gwain a-milken Jeaene do smile
+      To zunsheen o' the winter.
+
+  The birds do sheaeke, wi' playsome skips,
+  The rain-drops off the bushes' tips,
+  A-chirripen wi' merry sound;
+  While over all the grassy ground
+  The wind's a-whirlen 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 teaeles 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 feaece the winter zun,
+  Noo leaves can vall, noo flow'rs can feaede,
+  Noo snow can hide the grasses bleaede,
+  Noo vrost can whiten in the sheaede,
+    Noo day can come, but what do bring
+    To mind ageaen their early spring,
+      That's now a-turn'd to winter.
+
+
+
+
+THE WEEPEN LEADY.
+
+
+  When, leaete o' nights, above the green
+  By thik wold house, the moon do sheen,
+  A leaedy there, a-hangen low
+  Her head, 's a-walken to an' fro
+  In robes so white's the driven snow,
+    Wi' woone eaerm down, while woone do rest
+    All lily-white athirt the breast
+      O' thik poor weepen leaedy.
+
+  The whirlen wind an' whis'len squall
+  Do sheaeke the ivy by the wall,
+  An' meaeke the plyen tree-tops rock,
+  But never ruffle her white frock;
+  An' slammen door an' rattlen lock,
+    That in thik empty house do sound,
+    Do never seem to meaeke look round
+      Thik ever downcast leaedy.
+
+  A leaedy, as the teaele 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 weepen leaedy:
+
+  That she herzelf should leaeve his door,
+  To darken it ageaen noo mwore;
+  Or that her little playsome chile,
+  A-zent away a thousand mile,
+  Should never meet her eyes to smile
+    An' play ageaen; till she, in sheaeme,
+    Should die an' leaeve a tarnish'd neaeme,
+      A sad vorseaeken leaedy.
+
+  "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 weepen leaedy.
+
+  An' she do keep a-comen on
+  To zee her father dead an' gone,
+  As if her soul could have noo rest
+  Avore her teaery cheaek's a-prest
+  By his vorgiven kiss. Zoo blest
+    Be they that can but live in love,
+    An' vind a pleaece o' rest above
+      Unlik' the weepen leaedy.
+
+
+
+
+THE HAPPY DAYS WHEN I WER YOUNG.
+
+
+  In happy days when I wer young,
+  An' had noo ho, an' laugh'd an' zung,
+  The maid 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' daily health, an' daily 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 meaed an' woody nook,
+  An' waters o' the winden brook,
+  That sprung below the vu'st dark sky
+  That rain'd, to run till seas be dry;
+  An' hills a-stannen on while all
+  The works o' man do rise an' vall;
+  An' trees the toddlen child do vind
+  At vu'st, an' leaeve at last behind;
+  I wish that you could now unvwold
+  The peace an' jaey 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' taint our thought?
+  Clear brook! thy water coulden bring
+  Such venom vrom thy rocky spring;
+  Nor could it come in zummer blights,
+  Or reaeven 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 peaece, 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 pleaece,
+    There's woone where I do like to call
+    By day or night the best ov all,
+  To zee my Fanny's smilen feaece;
+  An' there the steaetely trees do grow,
+  A-rocken as the win' do blow,
+  While she do sweetly sleep below,
+    In the stillness o' the night.
+
+  An' there, at evenen, I do goo
+    A-hoppen over geaetes an' bars,
+    By twinklen 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' peaert wi' whispers at the hatch
+    In the stillness o' the night.
+
+  An' zometimes she do goo to zome
+    Young naighbours' housen down the pleaece,
+    An' I do get a clue to treaece
+  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! naighbour 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 teaeke 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 ageaen the sky
+  Drough chimney, where our vo'k did hitch
+  The zalt-box an' the beaecon-vlitch,
+  An' watch the smoke on out o' vier,
+  All up an' out o' tun, an' higher.
+  An' there wer beaecon up on rack,
+  An' pleaetes an' dishes on the tack;
+  An' roun' the walls wer heaerbs a-stowed
+  In peaepern 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 pleaece vor dogs an' sticks,
+  An' only left a little hole
+  To teaeke a little greaete 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 teaeke em vor a seat:
+  They be so fine, that vo'k mus' pleaece
+  All over em an' outer ceaese,
+  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 ageaen.
+  Zoo we did come vrom muck an' mire,
+  An' walk in straight avore the vier;
+  But now, a man's a-kept at door
+  At work a pirty while, avore
+  He's screaep'd an' rubb'd, an' cleaen 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-smacken 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-heaeir'd team,
+  An' smack my limber whip an' zing,
+    While all their bells do gaily cheeme.
+
+  An' I do always know the pleaece
+    To gi'e the hosses breath, or drug;
+  An' ev'ry hoss do know my feaece,
+    An' mind my '_mether ho_! an' _whug_!
+
+  An' merry hay-meaekers do ride
+    Vrom vield in zummer wi' their prongs,
+  In my blue waggon, zide by zide
+    Upon the reaeves, a-zingen zongs.
+
+  An' when the vrost do catch the stream,
+    An' oves wi' icicles be hung,
+  My panten hosses' breath do steam
+    In white-grass'd vields, a-haulen 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 nothen when do come
+    Behind their lags; an' they do teaeke
+  A roller as they would a drum,
+    An' harrow as they would a reaeke.
+
+  O! I be a carter, wi' my whip
+    A-smacken 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 leaeve thy fiddle-bag behind;
+  We'll sheaeke a lag, an' drink a cup
+  O' eaele, to keep wold Chris'mas up.
+
+  An' let thy sister teaeke thy eaerm,
+  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 feaece,
+  But only naighbours o' the pleaece,
+  An' Stowe, an' Combe; an' two or dree
+  Vrom uncle's up at Rookery.
+
+  An' thou wu'lt vind a rwosy feaece,
+  An' peaeir ov eyes so black as sloos,
+  The prettiest woones in all the pleaece,--
+  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' meaeke a vier to the bar.
+
+  An' ev'ry woone shall tell his teaele,
+  An' ev'ry woone shall zing his zong,
+  An' ev'ry woone wull drink his eaele
+  To love an' frien'ship all night long.
+
+  We'll snap the tongs, we'll have a ball,
+  We'll sheaeke the house, we'll lift the ruf,
+  We'll romp an' meaeke the maidens squall,
+  A catchen o'm at blind-man's buff.
+
+  Zoo come to-morrow night; an' mind,
+  Don't leaeve thy fiddle-bag behind;
+  We'll sheaeke a lag, an' drink a cup
+  O' eaele, 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 uppen-stock,
+  An' hung a bough o' misseltoo,
+  An' ax'd a merry friend or two,
+    To keepen 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-comen 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 meaeke en think I wer a ghost.
+  But he wer up to't, an' did scwold
+  To vind me stannen in the cwold,
+    A keepen up o' Chris'mas.
+
+  We play'd at forfeits, an' we spun
+  The trencher roun', an' meaede such fun!
+  An' had a geaeme o' dree-ceaerd loo,
+  An' then begun to hunt the shoe.
+  An' all the wold vo'k zitten near,
+  A-chatten roun' the vier pleaece,
+  Did smile in woone another's feaece.
+  An' sheaeke right hands wi' hearty cheer,
+  An' let their left hands spill their beer,
+    A keepen up o' Chris'mas.
+
+
+
+
+ZITTEN OUT THE WOLD YEAR.
+
+
+  Why, rain or sheen, or blow or snow,
+    I zaid, if I could stand so's,
+  I'd come, vor all a friend or foe,
+    To sheaeke ye by the hand, so's;
+  An' spend, wi' kinsvo'k near an' dear,
+  A happy evenen, 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 gigglen little slut,
+        I hope will shoot
+        Another voot
+    The year that's comen in, so's.
+
+  An' there, upon his mother's knee,
+     So peaert 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,
+  Gwain up or down along the hill,
+        To meet in glee
+        Ageaen 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 peaeir vor you;
+        We'll meaeke em swing,
+        An' meaeke 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-striken 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 woaken bwoard,
+  As good as thik that took my cup
+  An' trencher all my growen up.
+  Ah! I do mind en in the hall,
+  A-reachen all along the wall,
+  Wi' us at father's end, while tother
+  Did teaeke the maidens wi' their mother;
+  An' while the risen steam did spread
+  In curlen clouds up over head,
+  Our mouths did wag, an' tongues did run,
+  To meaeke the maidens laugh o' fun.
+
+  A woaken bedstead, black an' bright,
+  Did teaeke my weary bwones at night,
+  Where I could stratch an' roll about
+  Wi' little fear o' vallen out;
+  An' up above my head a peaeir
+  Ov ugly heads a-carv'd did steaere,
+  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' neaemes in nails, a-left behind
+  By kinsvo'k dead an' out o' mind;
+  Zoo we did get on well enough
+  Wi' things a-meaede 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-sleepen 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 ruffen
+  Their young vrom the storm,
+  An' zome wi' nest-hoodens o' moss
+  And o' wool, do lie warm.
+  An' we wull look well to the houseruf
+  That o'er thee mid leaek,
+  An' the blast that mid beaet on thy winder
+  Shall not smite thy cheaek.
+         Lullaby, Lilibrow.   Lie asleep;
+         Blest be thy rest.
+
+
+
+
+MEARY-ANN'S CHILD.
+
+
+  Meary-Ann wer alwone wi' her beaeby in eaerms,
+    In her house wi' the trees over head,
+  Vor her husban' wer out in the night an' the storms,
+    In his business a-tweilen 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' nai'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 darlen, an' life, an' her hope, an' her all.
+
+  But she vound in the evenen 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 ailen mid be;
+  An' she thought o'en last in her prayers 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 ageaen her warm bosom so tight,
+    An' she rock'd en so sorrowfully;
+  An' there laid a-nestlen the poor little bwoy,
+  Till his struggles grew weak, an' his cries died awoy.
+
+  An' the moon wer a-sheenen down into the pleaece,
+      (Under the dark elem tree),
+  An' his mother could zee that his lips an' his feaece
+    Wer so white as cleaen 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 feaece 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 pain a-zet free;
+  Vor his soul, we do know, is to heaven a-vled,
+  Where noo pain is a-known, an' noo tears be a-shed.
+
+
+
+
+[Gothic: Eclogue.]
+
+FATHER COME HWOME.
+
+
+_John, Wife, an' Child._
+
+
+  CHILD.
+
+  O mother, mother! be the teaeties done?
+  Here's father now a-comen down the track,
+  Hes got his nitch o' wood upon his back,
+  An' such a speaeker 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-colepecksen wi' by an' by.
+
+  WIFE.
+
+  The teaeties must be ready pretty nigh;
+  Do teaeke woone up upon the fork' an' try.
+  The ceaeke upon the vier, too, 's a-burnen,
+  I be afeaerd: 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 teaeties here a-doen in the pot;
+  I wish wi' all my heart I had some meat.
+  I got a little ceaeke too, here, a-beaeken o'n
+  Upon the vier. 'Tis done by this time though.
+  He's nice an' moist; vor when I wer a-meaeken o'n
+  I stuck some bits ov apple in the dough.
+
+  CHILD.
+
+  Well, father; what d'ye think? The pig got out
+  This mornen; an' avore we zeed or heaerd en,
+  He run about, an' got out into geaerden,
+  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' meaede myzelf so wetshod as a pig.
+
+  CHILD.
+
+  Father, teaeke off your shoes, then come, and I
+  Will bring your wold woones vor ye, nice an' dry.
+
+  WIFE.
+
+  An' have ye got much hedgen 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' trenchen 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 trenchen by the tut.
+
+  CHILD.
+
+  An' nex' week, father, I'm a-gwain to goo
+  A-picken stwones, d'ye know, vor Farmer True.
+
+  WIFE.
+
+  An' little Jack, you know, 's a-gwain to eaern
+  A penny too, a-keepen birds off corn.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  O brave! What wages do 'e meaen 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 teaeke an' cut
+  A stick or two to meaeke his hut.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  You wench! why you be always up a-baggen.
+  I be too tired now to-night, I'm sure,
+  To zet a-doen 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 evenen; b'ye a-feaerd
+  O' zights? Theaese leaene's a-haunted, I've a heaerd.
+
+  DICK.
+
+  No, I be'nt much a-feaer'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-lighten till the cock did crow;
+  But never met wi' nothen bad enough
+  To be much wo'se than what I be myzuf;
+  Though I, lik' others, have a-heaerd 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 heaerd at night such scuffens an' such jumpens,
+  Such ugly naises an' such rottlen thumpens.
+
+  DICK.
+
+  Aye, I do mind I heaerd 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 sheaepes 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 feaece so peaele as milk,
+  A smileless leaedy, all a-deck'd in silk.
+  His heaeir, 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 leaene, an' over in the meaed,
+  A-comen zometimes lik' a slinken hound,
+  Or rollen lik' a vleece along the ground.
+  An' woonce, when gramfer wi' his wold grey meaere
+  Wer riden down the leaene vrom Shroton feaeir,
+  It roll'd so big's a pack ov wool across
+  The road just under en, an' leaem'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 naighbour's house to spend
+  A merry hour, an' mid a-took a cup
+  Or two o' eaele a-keepen Chris'mas up;
+  Zoo I do lot 'twer leaete avore the peaerty
+  'D a-burnt their bron out; I do lot, avore
+  They thought o' turnen out o' door
+  'Twer mornen, vor their friendship then wer hearty.
+  Well; clwose ageaen the vootpath that do leaed
+  Vrom higher parish over withy-meaed,
+  There's still a hollow, you do know: they tried there,
+  In former times, to meaeke 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 theaese lwonesome spot,
+  Jack zeed a girt big house-dog wi' a collar,
+  A-stannen down in thik there hollor.
+  Lo'k there, he zaid, there's zome girt dog a-prowlen:
+  I'll just goo down an' gi'e'n a goodish lick
+  Or two wi' theaese here groun'-ash stick,
+  An' zend the shaggy rascal hwome a-howlen.
+  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 eaerm begun to zwell,
+  An' in the night a-bed he vound
+  The skin o't peelen off all round.
+  'Twer near a month avore he got it well.
+
+  JEM.
+
+  That wer vor hetten [=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 peaert me vrom you.
+  My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I do slight
+  The zwell o' thy bosom, thy eyes' sparklen light.
+
+  My kinsvo'k would fain zee me teaeke vor my meaete
+  A maid that ha' wealth, but a maid I should heaete;
+  But I'd sooner leaebour 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 peaert me vrom you.
+  My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I do slight
+  The zwell o' thy bosom, thy eyes' sparklen light.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAID VOR MY BRIDE.
+
+
+  Ah! don't tell o' maidens! the woone vor my bride
+  Is little lik' too many maidens bezide,--
+  Not branten, nor spitevul, nor wild; she've a mind
+  To think o' what's right, an' a heart to be kind.
+
+  She's straight 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 feaece,
+  An' a queen, to be steaetely, must walk wi' her peaece.
+
+  Her frocks be a-meaede all becomen an' plain,
+  An' cleaen as a blossom undimm'd by a stain;
+  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 steaere 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-beginnen to speak.
+
+  Her skin is so white as a lily, an' each
+  Ov her cheaeks is so downy an' red as a peach;
+  She's pretty a-zitten; 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 eaerm in mine, an' wi' woone a-hung down,
+  I do think, an' do veel mwore o' sheaeme than o' pride,
+  That do meaeke me look ugly to walk by her zide.
+
+  Zoo don't talk o' maiden's! the woone vor my bride
+  Is but little lik' too many maidens bezide,--
+  Not branten, 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 geaerden groun' to dig,
+  A parrock, an' a cow an' pig;
+  I got zome cider vor to swig,
+    An' eaele o' malt an' hops.
+
+  I'm landlord o' my little farm,
+    I'm king 'ithin my little pleaece;
+  I don't break laws, an' don't do harm,
+    An' bent a-feaer'd o' noo man's feaece.
+  When I'm a-cover'd wi' my thatch,
+  Noo man do deaere to lift my latch;
+  Where honest han's do shut the hatch,
+    There fear do leaeve the pleaece.
+
+  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-runnen down
+  The pretty maiden's o' the town,
+    Nor wishen o'm noo harm;
+  But she that I would marry vu'st,
+  To sheaere my good luck or my crust,
+    'S a-bred up at a farm.
+  In town, a maid do zee mwore life,
+    An' I don't under-reaete her;
+  But ten to woone the sprackest wife
+    'S a farmer's woldest d[=a]'ter.
+
+  Vor she do veed, wi' tender ceaere,
+  The little woones, an' peaert their heaeir,
+    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'len wife,
+    An' childern well look'd after,
+  The maid 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 wi' young or wold,
+    An' zalt an' roll the butter;
+  An' meaeke 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 looken [=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' liven blushes, that do spread
+  Upon her healthy feaece o' red,
+    Do heighten all her beauty;
+  So quick's a bird, so neat's a cat,
+    So cheerful in her neaetur,
+  The best o' maidens 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 leaezes an' the bits o' mead,
+      Besides the orcha'd in his prime,
+      An' copse-wood vor the winter time.
+      His wold black meaere, that draw'd his cart,
+      An' he, wer seldom long apeaert;
+      Vor he work'd hard an' paid 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 feaece a friend or stranger;
+  I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peaeir
+  Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meaere."
+
+      His meaere's long vlexy vetlocks grow'd
+      Down roun' her hoofs so black an' brode;
+      Her head hung low, her tail reach'd down
+      A-bobben nearly to the groun'.
+      The cwoat that uncle mwostly wore
+      Wer long behind an' straight avore,
+
+      An' in his shoes he had girt buckles,
+      An' breeches button'd round his huckles;
+          An' he zung wi' pride,
+          By's wold meaere's zide,
+      "I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger,
+      An' I can feaece a friend or stranger;
+  I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peaeir
+  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 hay, to sar his vew
+      Milch cows in corners dry an' lew;
+      Or dreve a zyve, or work a pick,
+      To pitch or meaeke 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 eaerms, an' zung
+      "I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger,
+      An' I can feaece a friend or stranger;
+  I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peaeir
+  Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare."
+
+      An' when his meaere an' he'd a-done
+      Their work, an' tired ev'ry bwone,
+      He zot avore the vire, to spend
+      His evenen wi' his wife or friend;
+      An' wi' his lags out-stratch'd vor rest,
+      An' woone hand in his wes'coat breast,
+      While burnen sticks did hiss an' crack,
+      An' fleaemes did bleaezy up the back,
+          There he zung so proud
+          In a bakky cloud,
+      "I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger,
+      An' I can feaece a friend or stranger;
+  I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peaeir
+  Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare."
+
+      From market how he used to ride,
+      Wi' pot's a-bumpen by his zide
+      Wi' things a-bought--but not vor trust,
+      Vor what he had he paid vor vu'st;
+      An' when he trotted up the yard,
+      The calves did bleaery 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 feaece a friend or stranger;
+  I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peaeir
+  Vor the vu'st that do meddle wi' me or my meare."
+
+      When he wer joggen 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, herren ribs,
+      Jump'd out an' ax'd en vor his dibs;
+      But he soon gi'ed en such a mawlen,
+      That there he left en down a-sprawlen,
+          While he jogg'd along
+          Wi' his own wold zong,
+      "I'm out o' debt an' out o' danger,
+      An' I can feaece a friend or stranger;
+  I've a vist vor friends, an' I'll vind a peaeir
+  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' eaese vrom all woone's ceaere an' tweil,
+  The welcome evenen, 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' pleaece
+  To gather us, an' gi'e us greaece,--
+    The church an' happy Zunday.
+
+  There, under leaenen 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 maidens, mild an' true,
+  That meaede their sweet-hearts happy brides,
+  An' come to kneel down at their zides
+    At church o' happy Zundays.
+
+  'Tis good to zee woone's naighbours come
+  Out drough the churchyard, vlocken hwome,
+  As woone do nod, an' woone do smile,
+  An' woone do toss another's chile;
+  An' zome be sheaeken han's, the while
+  Poll's uncle, chucken her below
+  Her chin, do tell her she do grow,
+    At church o' happy Zundays.
+
+  Zoo while our blood do run in vains
+  O' liven souls in theaesum plains,
+  Mid happy housen smoky round
+  The church an' holy bit o' ground;
+  An' while their wedden bells do sound,
+  Oh! mid em have the meaens o' greaece,
+  The holy day an' holy pleaece,
+    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 geaete,
+  Below the elems' spreaeden boughs,
+  A-rubb'd by all the pigs an' cows.
+  An' I've a-clom his head an' zides,
+  A-riggen up or jumpen down
+  A-playen, or in happy rides
+  Along the leaene or drough the groun',
+  An' many souls be in their greaeves,
+  That rod' together on his reaeves;
+  An' he, an' all the hosses too,
+  'V a-ben a-done vor years agoo.
+
+  Upon his head an' tail wer pinks,
+  A-painted all in tangled links;
+  His two long zides wer blue,--his bed
+  Bent slightly upward at the head;
+  His reaeves 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 meaere _Smiler_, strong enough
+  To pull a house down by herzuf,
+
+  So big, as took my widest strides
+  To straddle halfway down her zides;
+  An' champen _Vi'let_, sprack an' light,
+  That foam'd an' pull'd wi' all her might:
+  An' _Whitevoot_, leaezy in the treaece,
+  Wi' cunnen looks an' show-white feaece;
+  Bezides a bay woone, short-tail _Jack_,
+  That wer a treaece-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 rails.
+  An' bayens wi' their bushy tails;
+  An' loose-ear'd barley, hangen down
+  Outzide the wheels a'most to groun',
+  An' lwoads o' hay so sweet an' dry,
+  A-builded straight, an' long, an' high;
+  An' hay-meaekers, a-zitten roun'
+  The reaeves, a-riden hwome vrom groun',
+  When Jim gi'ed Jenny's lips a-smack,
+  An' jealous Dicky whipp'd his back,
+  An' maidens 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 DREVEN 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-limpen, o'er the ground.
+
+  There we heaerd the whickr'en meaere
+  Wi' her vaice a-quiv'ren high;
+  Where the cow did loudly bleaere
+  By the donkey's vallen cry.
+  While a-stoopen 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 hayward drove the stock
+  In a herd to zome oone pleaece,
+  Thither vo'k begun to vlock,
+  Each to own his beaestes feaece.
+  While the geese, bezide the stream,
+  Zent vrom gapen bills a scream,
+  An' the cattle then avound,
+  Without right o' greaezen there,
+  Went to bleaere bray 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 runnen 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-skippen 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 play'd, or when they foueght,
+    Di'st stand a-looken 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 hayward come, wi' all his men,
+  To dreve the common, an' to pen
+    Strange cattle in the pound;
+  The cows did bleaere, the men did shout
+  An' toss their eaerms 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 feaezen to our eyes ageaen,
+  Do meaeke us look behind, John,
+  Do bring wold times to mind, John,
+    Do meaeke hearts veel, if they be steel,
+  All warm, an' soft, an' kind, John.
+
+  When we do lose, still gay an' young,
+    A vaice that us'd to call woone's neaeme,
+  An' after years ageaen his tongue
+    Do sound upon our ears the seaeme,
+  Do kindle love anew, John,
+  Do wet woone's eyes wi' dew, John,
+    As we do sheaeke, vor friendship's seaeke,
+  His vist an' vind en true, John.
+
+  What tender thoughts do touch woone's soul,
+    When we do zee a meaed or hill
+  Where we did work, or play, or stroll,
+    An' talk wi' vaices that be still;
+  'Tis touchen vor to treaece, John,
+  Wold times drough ev'ry pleaece, John;
+    But that can't touch woone's heart so much,
+  As zome wold long-lost feaece, 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 meaede her come,
+  Vorseaeken, to her maiden hwome.
+  But Jenny's merry tongue wer dum';
+    An' round her comely neck she wore
+    A murnen 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 maiden frocks,
+  The spike, to put 'ithin her box,
+  Wi' columbines an' hollyhocks;
+    The jilliflow'r an' nodden pink,
+    An' rwose that touch'd her soul to think
+      Ov woone that deck'd her breast.
+
+  Vor at her wedden, just avore
+  Her maiden hand had yet a-wore
+  A wife's goold ring, wi' hangen head
+  She walk'd along thik flower-bed,
+  Where stocks did grow, a-stained wi' red,
+    An' meaerygoolds did skirt the walk,
+    An' gather'd vrom the rwose's stalk
+      A bud to deck her breast.
+
+  An' then her cheaek, wi' youthvul blood
+  Wer bloomen as the rwoses bud;
+  But now, as she wi' grief do pine,
+  'Tis peaele's the milk-white jessamine.
+  But Robert have a-left behine
+    A little beaeby wi' his feaece,
+    To smile, an' nessle in the pleaece
+      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 milken us'd to stan'
+  A-veeden o' her, vrom her han',
+    Wi' grass or hay; an' she know'd Ann,
+    An' in the evenen she did come
+    The vu'st, a-beaeten uep 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 feaece so sharp's a pin:
+  Her eyes wer vull, her ears wer thin,
+    An' she wer red vrom head to tail,
+    An' didden start nor kick the pail,
+      When Nanny zot to milk her.
+
+  But losses zoon begun to vall
+  On Nanny's father, that wi' all
+  His tweil he voun', wi' breaken heart,
+  That he mus' leaeve his ground, an' peaert
+  Wi' all his beaest 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 vorzeaeke 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 vaice o' the busy wold sheep dog is still,
+    An' the sheep-bells do tinkle all round;
+    Where noo tree vor a sheaede but the thorn is a-vound,
+          There, a zingen a zong,
+          Or a-whislen 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 lightnen 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-zingen a zong,
+          Or a-whislen among
+  The sheep, the poor shep'erd do bide all day long.
+
+  When the shearen's a-come, an' the shearers do pull
+    In the sheep, hangen back a-gwain in,
+  Wi' their roun' zides a-heaven in under their wool,
+    To come out all a-clipp'd to the skin;
+    When the feaesten, an' zingen, an fun do begin,
+          Vor to help em, an' sheaere
+        All their me'th an' good feaere,
+  The poor little shep'erd is sure to be there.
+
+
+
+
+HOPE A-LEFT BEHIND.
+
+
+  Don't try to win a maiden's heart,
+    To leaeve her in her love,--'tis wrong:
+  'Tis bitter to her soul to peaert
+    Wi' woone that is her sweetheart long.
+    A maid's vu'st love is always strong;
+  An' if do fail, 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 peaele 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 jumpen off the stile;
+    Thy life's avore thee vor a while,
+  But thou wilt turn thy mind in time,
+  An' zee the deed as 'tis,--a crime,
+      An' hope a-left behind thee.
+
+  Zoo never win a maiden's heart,
+    But her's that is to be thy bride,
+  An' play drough life a manly peaert,
+    An' if she's true when time ha' tried
+    Her mind, then teaeke her by thy zide.
+  True love will meaeke thy hardships light,
+  True love will meaeke 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 beaene,
+  An' zoo would bring thee back ageaen
+    'Ithin the ways o' truth.
+
+  An' mind en still when in the end
+    His leaebour'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 leaebour back.
+
+  An' when his bwones be in the dust,
+    Then honour still his neaeme, John;
+  An' as his godly soul wer just,
+    Let thine be voun' the seaeme, 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 ageaen.
+
+
+
+
+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 seaefe an' sound.
+
+  Back when the builders vu'st begun
+  The church,--as still the teaele 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 sparklen 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 pains,
+  Could hardly wag wi' bars an' chains;
+  An' yet he never used to stay
+  O' Zaturdays, to teaeke his pay.
+
+  Woone day the men wer out o' heart,
+  To have a beam a-cut too short;
+  An' in the evenen, when they shut
+  Off work, they left en where 'twer put;
+  An' while dumb night went softly by
+  Towards the vi'ry western sky,
+  A-lullen birds, an' shutten up
+  The deaeisy an' the butter cup,
+  They went to lay their heavy heads
+  An' weary bwones upon their beds.
+
+  An' when the dewy mornen broke,
+  An' show'd the worold, fresh awoke,
+  Their godly work ageaen, they vound
+  The beam they left upon the ground
+  A-put in pleaece, where still do bide,
+  An' long enough to reach outzide.
+  But he unknown to tother men
+  Wer never there at work ageaen:
+  Zoo whether he mid be a man
+  Or angel, wi' a helpen han',
+  Or whether all o't wer a dream,
+  They didden deaere to cut the beam.
+
+
+
+
+THE VAICES THAT BE GONE.
+
+
+  When evenen sheaedes o' trees do hide
+  A body by the hedge's zide,
+  An' twitt'ren birds, wi' playsome flight,
+  Do vlee to roost at comen night,
+  Then I do saunter out o' zight
+    In orcha'd, where the pleaece woonce rung
+    Wi' laughs a-laugh'd an' zongs a-zung
+      By vaices 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 heaere below,
+  Wi' merry skippens to an' fro
+    Bezide the banks, where Jim did zit
+    A-playen o' the clarinit
+      To vaices that be gone.
+
+  How mother, when we us'd to stun
+  Her head wi' all our naisy fun,
+  Did wish us all a-gone vrom hwome:
+  An' now that zome be dead, an' zome
+  A-gone, an' all the pleaece is dum',
+    How she do wish, wi' useless tears,
+    To have ageaen about her ears
+      The vaices that be gone.
+
+  Vor all the maidens 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 evenen-tide,
+    I still do saunter out, wi' tears,
+    Down drough the orcha'd, where my ears
+      Do miss the vaices gone.
+
+
+
+
+POLL.
+
+
+  When out below the trees, that drow'd
+  Their scraggy lim's athirt the road,
+  While evenen zuns, a'most a-zet,
+  Gi'ed goolden light, but little het,
+  The merry chaps an' maidens met,
+    An' look'd to zomebody to neaeme
+    Their bit o' fun, a dance or geaeme,
+      'Twer Poll they cluster'd round.
+
+  An' after they'd a-had enough
+  O' snappen tongs, or blind-man's buff,
+  O' winter nights, an' went an' stood
+  Avore the vire o' bleaezen wood,
+  Though there wer maidens kind an' good,
+    Though there wer maidens feaeir 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' skippen tott'ren veet
+  An' thought noo other kiss so sweet
+    As hers; an' nwone could vind em out
+    Such geaemes to meaeke em jump an' shout,
+      As Poll they cluster'd round.
+
+  An' now, since she've a-left em, all
+  The pleaece do miss her, girt an' small.
+  In vain vor them the zun do sheen
+  Upon the lwonesome rwoad an' green;
+  Their zwing do hang vorgot between
+    The leaenen trees, vor they've a-lost
+    The best o' maidens, to their cost,
+      The maid they cluster'd round.
+
+
+
+
+LOOKS A-KNOW'D AVORE.
+
+
+  While zome, a-gwain from pleaece to pleaece,
+  Do daily meet wi' zome new feaece,
+  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 rejaice
+    In zome wold naighbour's welcome vaice,
+      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 bleaezed for wold
+  An' young vo'k, now vor ever cwold,
+  Be met wi' jay 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 feaeir, among
+  The chatten, laughen, shiften drong,
+  When wold an' young, an' high an' low,
+  Do streamy round, an' to an' fro;
+  But what new feaece that we don't know,
+    Can ever meaeke 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 bubblen shoals!
+  An' oh! that zome o' them young souls,
+    That we, in jay, did play wi' then
+    Could come back now, an' bring ageaen
+      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 feaezen do but goo
+  To be a-vollow'd still by new;
+  But souls that be a-tried an' true
+    Shall meet ageaen 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 feaeirest lights,
+  Do zee but inward fancy's zights;
+  When creepen years, wi' with'ren blights,
+    'V a-took off them that wer so dear,
+    How touchen 'tis if we do hear
+      The tuens o' the dead, John.
+
+  When I, a-stannen in the lew
+  O' trees a storm's a-beaeten drough,
+  Do zee the slanten 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 gwain along
+  The brook, I heaerd the milk-maid's zong
+  A-ringen out so clear an' shrill
+  Along the meaeds an' roun' the hill.
+  I catch'd the tuen, an' stood still
+    To hear 't; 'twer woone that Jeaene did zing
+    A-vield a-milken in the spring,--
+      Sweet music o' the dead, John.
+
+  Don't tell o' zongs that be a-zung
+  By young chaps now, wi' sheaemeless tongue:
+  Zing me wold ditties, that would start
+  The maiden's tears, or stir my heart
+  To teaeke in life a manly peaert,--
+    The wold vo'k's zongs that twold a teaele,
+    An' vollow'd round their mugs o' eaele,
+      The music o' the dead, John.
+
+
+
+
+THE PLEAeCE A TEAeLE'S A-TWOLD O'.
+
+  Why tidden vields an' runnen 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 pleaece a teaele's a-twold o'.
+
+  At Burn, where mother's young friends know'd
+    The vu'st her maiden neaeme,
+  The zunny knaps, the narrow road
+    An' green, be still the seaeme;
+  The squier's house, an' ev'ry ground
+    That now his son ha' zwold, O,
+  An' ev'ry wood he hunted round
+    'S a pleaece a teaele's a-twold o'.
+
+  The maid a-lov'd to our heart's core,
+    The dearest of our kin,
+  Do meaeke us like the very door
+    Where they went out an' in.
+  'Tis zome'hat touchen that bevel
+    Poor flesh an' blood o' wold, O,
+  Do meaeke us like to zee so well
+    The pleaece a teaele's a-twold o'.
+
+  When blushen Jenny vu'st did come
+    To zee our Poll o' nights,
+  An' had to goo back leaetish hwome,
+    Where vo'k did zee the zights,
+  A-chatten loud below the sky
+    So dark, an' winds so cwold, O,
+  How proud wer I to zee her by
+    The pleaece the teaele's a-twold o'.
+
+  Zoo whether 'tis the humpy ground
+    That wer a battle viel',
+  Or mossy house, all ivy-bound,
+    An' vallen 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 pleaece a teaele's a-twold o'.
+
+
+
+
+AUNT'S TANTRUMS.
+
+
+  Why ees, aunt Anne's a little staid,
+  But kind an' merry, poor wold maid!
+  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-steppen out
+  Such strides, an' fling the pails 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 heaeir above my crown,
+  An' whizz'd on down upon the groun',
+  An' knock'd the bantam cock right down,
+    But up he sprung, a-teaeken flight
+    Wi' tothers, clucken 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 STWONEN PWORCH.
+
+
+  A new house! Ees, indeed! a small
+  Straight, upstart thing, that, after all,
+  Do teaeke in only half the groun'
+  The wold woone did avore 'twer down;
+  Wi' little windows straight an' flat,
+  Not big enough to zun a-cat,
+  An' dealen door a-meaede 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 meaeke 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 stwonen pworch avore
+  The nail-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' meaede 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 jay than thik wold pworch bestow'd!
+  For there, when yollow evenen shed
+  His light ageaen the elem's head,
+  An' gnots did whiver in the zun,
+  An' uncle's work wer all a-done,
+  His whiffs o' melten smoke did roll
+  Above his benden pipe's white bowl,
+  While he did chat, or, zitten dumb,
+  Injay his thoughts as they did come.
+
+  An' Jimmy, wi' his crowd below
+  His chin, did dreve his nimble bow
+  In tuens vor to meaeke us spring
+  A-reelen, or in zongs to zing,
+  An' there, between the dark an' light,
+  Zot Poll by Willy's zide at night
+  A-whisp'ren, while her eyes did zwim
+  In jay 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-paeinted up so fine.
+  If I'd a wold grey house o' mine,
+  Gi'e me vor all it should be small,
+  A stwonen pworch instead [=o]'t all.
+
+
+
+
+FARMER'S SONS.
+
+
+  Ov all the chaps a-burnt so brown
+    By zunny hills an' hollors,
+  Ov all the whindlen 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 waight up that would squot
+    A weakly fellow flat.
+  He wont gi'e up when things don't fay,
+    But turn em into fun, min;
+  An' what's hard work to zome, is play
+    Avore a farmer's son, min.
+
+  His bwony eaerm an' knuckly vist
+    ('Tis best to meaeke 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 maid
+    Would never goo a nun, min;
+  She'd have noo call to be afraid
+    Bezide a farmer's son, min.
+
+  He'll turn a vurrow, drough his langth,
+    So straight 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 maiden's be but dead alive
+    'Ithout a farmer's son, min.
+
+  Zoo jay be in his heart so light,
+    An' manly feaece so brown;
+  An' health goo wi' en hwome at night,
+    Vrom meaed, 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 worken farmer's son, min.
+
+
+
+
+JEAeNE.
+
+
+  We now mid hope vor better cheer,
+  My smilen wife o' twice vive year.
+  Let others frown, if thou bist near
+    Wi' hope upon thy brow, Jeaene;
+  Vor I vu'st lov'd thee when thy light
+  Young sheaepe vu'st grew to woman's height;
+  I loved thee near, an' out o' zight,
+    An' I do love thee now, Jeaene.
+
+  An' we've a-trod the sheenen bleaede
+  Ov eegrass in the zummer sheaede,
+  An' when the leaeves begun to feaede
+    Wi' zummer in the weaene, Jeaene;
+  An' we've a-wander'd drough the groun'
+  O' swayen wheat a-turnen brown,
+  An' we've a-stroll'd together roun'
+    The brook an' drough the leaene, Jeane.
+
+  An' nwone but I can ever tell
+  Ov all thy tears that have a-vell
+  When trials meaede thy bosom zwell,
+    An' nwone but thou o' mine, Jeaene;
+  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' leaeve them times behine, Jeaene.
+
+
+
+
+THE DREE WOAKS.
+
+
+  By the brow o' thik hangen 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 sheaede to the green;
+  An' there, as in zummer we play'd at our geaemes,
+        We [=e]ach own'd a tree,
+        Vor we wer but dree,
+  An' zoo the dree woaks wer a-call'd by our neaemes.
+
+  An' two did grow scraggy out over the road,
+    An' they wer call'd Jimmy's an' mine;
+  An' tother wer Jeaennet's, much kindlier grow'd,
+    Wi' a knotless an' white ribbed rine.
+  An' there, o' fine nights avore gwaein in to rest,
+        We did dance, vull o' life,
+        To the sound o' the fife,
+  Or play at some geaeme that poor Jeaennet lik'd best.
+
+  Zoo happy wer we by the woaks o' the green,
+    Till we lost sister Jeaennet, our pride;
+  Vor when she wer come to her last blushen _teen_,
+    She suddenly zicken'd an' died.
+  An' avore the green leaves in the fall wer gone by,
+        The lightnen struck dead
+        Her woaken tree's head,
+  An' left en a-stripp'd to the wintery sky.
+
+  But woone ov his eaecorns, 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 Jeaennet, 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-neaemen her childern to vo'ks,
+    Meaede 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 maid 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 ramblen happy chile,
+    An' chap so strong an' bwold,
+  An' bloomen maid wi' playsome 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 sway wi' moss about their rind
+    Their heads a-nodden 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-worken in our little patch
+    O' parrock, rathe or leaete, John,
+  We little ho'd how vur mid stratch
+    The squier's wide esteaete, 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-swayen 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-growen 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-wanten bread,
+    Zome, better off, ha' died,
+        Noo mwore to ho,
+        Vor homes below
+  The trees a-swayen to an' fro.
+
+  An' I could leaed 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 burnen 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 eaerms astrout,
+  A-zenden 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-meaede, at last, a'most
+  A friend o' thik wold guiden post.
+
+  An' there, wi' woone white eaerm he show'd,
+  Down over bridge, the Leyton road;
+  Wi' woone, the leaene a-leaeden 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 guiden post.
+
+  The Leyton road ha' lofty ranks
+  Ov elem trees upon his banks;
+  The woone athirt the hill do show
+  Us miles o' hedgy meaeds below;
+  An' he to Rushiburn is wide
+  Wi' strips o' green along his zide,
+  An' ouer brown-ruf'd house a-most
+  In zight o' thik wold guiden post.
+
+  An' when the hay-meaekers did zwarm
+  O' zummer evenens out vrom farm.
+  The merry maidens an' the chaps,
+  A-peaerten there wi' jokes an' slaps,
+  Did goo, zome woone way off, an' zome
+  Another, all a-zingen hwome;
+  Vor vew o'm had to goo, at mwost,
+  A mile beyond the guiden post.
+
+  Poor Nanny Brown, woone darkish night,
+  When he'd a-been a-painted white,
+  Wer frighten'd, near the gravel pits,
+  So dead's a hammer into fits,
+  A-thinken '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 guiden post.
+
+
+
+
+GWAIN TO FEAeIR.
+
+
+  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 feaeir; an' zoo,
+  If you wull let us gi'e ye a eaerm
+  Along the road, or in the zwarm
+  O' vo'k, we'll keep ye out o' harm,
+    An' gi'e ye a feaeiren too.
+
+  We won't stay leaete there, I'll be boun';
+  We'll bring our sheaedes off out o' town
+  A mile, avore the zun is down,
+    If he's a sheenen 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 nothen there to fear.
+
+
+
+
+JEAeNE 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,
+  Maidens feaeirest to the zight;
+  I'd a-chose among em still,
+  Pretty Jeaene o' Grenley Mill.
+
+  She wer feaeirer, by her cows
+    In her work-day frock a-drest,
+  Than the rest wi' scornvul brows
+    All a-flanten in their best.
+  Gay did seem, at feaest or feaeir,
+  Zights that I had her to sheaere;
+  Gay would be my own heart still,
+  But vor Jeaene o' Grenley Mill.
+
+  Jeaene--a-checken ov her love--
+    Leaen'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-treaten ill
+  Pretty Jeaene o' Grenley Mill.
+
+  Oh! poor Jenny! thou'st a tore
+    Hopen love vrom my poor heart,
+  Losen vrom thy own small store,
+    All the better, sweeter peaert.
+  Hearts a-slighted must vorseaeke
+  Slighters, though a-doom'd to break;
+  I must scorn, but love thee still,
+  Pretty Jeaene 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 ageaen thy pride,
+  How should I ha' lov'd thee still,
+  Pretty Jeaene o' Grenley Mill.
+
+
+
+
+THE BELLS OV ALDERBURNHAM.
+
+
+  While now upon the win' do zwell
+    The church-bells' evenen peal, O,
+  Along the bottom, who can tell
+    How touch'd my heart do veel, O.
+  To hear ageaen, as woonce they rung
+  In holidays when I wer young,
+        Wi' merry sound
+        A-ringen round,
+    The bells ov Alderburnham.
+
+  Vor when they rung their gayest 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 roaren weir,
+  Or in the wood, or in the gleaere
+        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 peaeirs, how soon be zome
+    A-wedded an' a-peaerted!
+  Vor woone ov jay, what peals mid come
+    To zome o's broken-hearted!
+  The stronger mid the sooner die,
+  The gayer 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 bleaezen kitchen-vier,
+  That cook'd vor poor-vo'k an' a squier.
+  The very last ov all the reaece
+  That liv'd the squier o' the pleaece,
+  Died off when father wer a-born,
+  An' now his kin be all vorlorn
+  Vor ever,--vor he left noo son
+  To teaeke 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' rocken 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 sheaede or zun:
+  Woone where the zun did glitter drough,
+  When vu'st he struck the mornen dew;
+  Woone feaeced the evenen sky, an' woone
+  Push'd out a pworch to zweaty noon:
+  Zoo woone stood out to break the storm,
+  An' meaede another lew an' warm.
+  An' there the timber'd copse rose high,
+  Where birds did build an' heaeres did lie,
+  An' beds o' graegles in the lew,
+  Did deck in May the ground wi' blue.
+  An' there wer hills an' slopen grounds,
+  That they did ride about wi' hounds;
+  An' drough the meaed did creep the brook
+  Wi' bushy bank an' rushy nook,
+  Where perch did lie in sheaedy holes
+  Below the alder trees, an' shoals
+  O' gudgeon darted by, to hide
+  Theirzelves in hollows by the zide.
+  An' there by leaenes a-winden deep,
+  Wer mossy banks a-risen steep;
+  An' stwonen steps, so smooth an' wide,
+  To stiles an' vootpaths at the zide.
+  An' there, so big's a little ground,
+  The geaerden wer a-wall'd all round:
+  An' up upon the wall wer bars
+  A-sheaeped 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' peaevement, broad
+  Enough to meaeke a carriage-road,
+  Where steaetely leaedies 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-comen hwome or gwain abroad.
+  The zummer air o' theaese 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 pleaece to meaeke 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 sheaepes 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 pleaece, 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 meaeke ther speechless sheaedes 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-withren blight
+  A-cast on vo'k by Molly's mutter'd spite;
+  She did, woone time, a dreadvul deael 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 meaeke their milk an' eaele 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 ageaen to curds an' whey;
+  The little pigs, a-runnen wi' the zow,
+  Did zicken, zomehow, noobody know'd how,
+  An' vall, an' turn their snouts toward the sky.
+  An' only gi'e woone little grunt, and die;
+  An' all the little ducks an' chicken
+  Wer death-struck out in yard a-picken
+  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 seaeve 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-nailen up at door a hosses shoe;
+  An' I've a-heaerd 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-comen by:
+  But she could never vetch a drap,
+  For pins would ply an' needless snap
+  Ageaen her skin; an' that, in coo'se,
+  Did meaeke 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 neaeme
+  Among the leaguers, then, as I've a heaerd.
+
+  TOM.
+
+  Aye, John, I have, John; an' I ben't afeaerd
+  To own it. Why, who woulden do the seaeme?
+  We shant goo on lik' this long, I can tell ye.
+  Bread is so high an' wages be so low,
+  That, after worken lik' a hoss, you know,
+  A man can't eaern enough to vill his belly.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  Ah! well! Now there, d'ye know, if I wer sure
+  That theaesem men would gi'e me work to do
+  All drough the year, an' always pay me mwore
+  Than I'm a-eaernen 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 meaeke a shillen 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' theaesem men can meaeke 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 meaeke the laws at Lon'on, too,
+  As many that do hold their noses higher.
+  Why shoulden fellows meaeke 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 voten o' the taxes?
+  An' when the poor've a-got a sheaere
+  In meaeken laws, they'll teaeke good ceaere
+  To meaeke some good woones vor the poor.
+  Do stan' by reason, John; because
+  The men that be to meaeke the laws,
+  Will meaeke 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' voten, than the woone we got. A man,
+  As things be now, d'ye know, can't goo an' vote
+  Ageaen another man, but he must know't.
+  We'll have a box an' balls, vor voten 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 ageaen. He woon't be led
+  To choose a man to teaeke 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 meaen "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 pinchen me, so well as you,
+  But I can't tell what ever they can do.
+
+  TOM.
+
+  Why meaeke the farmers gi'e their leaebouren men
+  Mwore wages,--half or twice so much ageaen
+  As what they got.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+               But, Thomas, you can't meaeke
+  A man pay mwore away than he can teaeke.
+  If you do meaeke en gi'e, to till a vield,
+  So much ageaen as what the groun' do yield,
+  He'll shut out farmen--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.
+  Leaebour, the seaeme'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 theaesem vo'k could come an' meaeke mwore lands,
+  If they could teaeke wold England in their hands
+  An' stratch it out jist twice so big ageaen,
+  They'd be a-doen some'hat vor us then.
+
+  TOM.
+
+  But if they wer a-zent to Parli'ment
+  To meaeke 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 theaese men wer all to hold together,
+  They coulden meaeke new laws to change the weather!
+  They ben't so mighty as to think o' frightenen
+  The vrost an' rain, the thunder an' the lightenen!
+  An' as vor me, I don't know what to think
+  O' them there fine, big-talken, cunnen,
+  Strange men, a-comen down vrom Lon'on.
+  Why they don't stint theirzelves, but eat an' drink
+  The best at public-house where they do stay;
+  They don't work gratis, they do get their pay.
+  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-paid, because they be a-zent
+  By corn-law vo'k that be the poor man's friends,
+  To tell us all how we mid gain our ends,
+  A-zenden peaepers up to Parli'ment.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  Ah! teaeke ceaere how dost trust em.  Dost thou know
+  The funny feaeble o' the pig an' crow?
+  Woone time a crow begun to strut an' hop
+  About some groun' that men'd a-been a-drillen
+  Wi' barley or some wheat, in hopes o' villen
+  Wi' good fresh corn his empty crop.
+  But lik' a thief, he didden like the pains
+  O' worken hard to get en a vew grains;
+  Zoo while the sleeky rogue wer there a-hunten,
+  Wi' little luck, vor corns that mid be vound
+  A-pecken vor, he heaerd a pig a-grunten
+  Just tother zide o' hedge, in tother ground.
+  "Ah!" thought the cunnen rogue, an' gi'ed a hop,
+  "Ah! that's the way vor me to vill my crop;
+  Aye, that's the plan, if nothen don't defeaet 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 straight upon a woak,
+  An' bowen, lik' a man at hustens, spoke:
+  "My friend," zaid he, "that's poorish liven vor ye
+  In thik there leaeze. Why I be very zorry
+  To zee how they hard-hearted vo'k do sarve ye.
+  You can't live there. Why! do they meaen to starve ye?"
+  "Ees," zaid the pig, a-grunten, "ees;
+  What wi' the hosses an' the geese,
+  There's only docks an' thissles here to chaw.
+  Instead o' liven well on good warm straw,
+  I got to grub out here, where I can't pick
+  Enough to meaeke me half an ounce o' flick."
+  "Well," zaid the crow, "d'ye know, if you'll stan' that,
+  You mussen think, my friend, o' getten 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
+  Theaese gap up here, why you mid vill your belly.
+  Why, they've a-been a-drillen corn, d'ye know,
+  In theaese 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, believen ev'ry single word
+  That wer a-twold en by the cunnen 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' main,
+  Right up a drill, a-routen up the grain;
+  An' as the cunnen crow did gi'e a caw
+  A-praisen [=o]'n, oh! he did veel so proud!
+  An' work'd, an' blow'd, an' toss'd, an' ploughed
+  The while the cunnen crow did vill his maw.
+  An' after worken till his bwones
+  Did eaeche, 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 heaeiry plougher.
+  A-brislen up an' looken 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 leaeve 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-zwingen 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 teaele 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' cunnen rooks.
+  If we be grubben 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 blessens, shoulden let theirzelves vorget
+  How 'tis where the vo'k do never zet
+  A bit o' meat within their rusty pot.
+  The man a-zitten in his easy chair
+  To flesh, an' vowl, an' vish, should try to speaere
+  The poor theaese 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 feaeir meaens, then we wull by might.
+  We'll meaeke 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 meaeke things wo'se, i'-ma'-be, by a riot.
+  You'll get into a mess, Tom, I'm afeaerd;
+  You'll goo vor wool, an' then come hwome a-sheaer'd.
+
+
+
+
+POEMS OF RURAL LIFE.
+
+
+SECOND COLLECTION.
+
+
+
+
+BLACKMWORE MAIDENS.
+
+
+  The primrwose in the sheaede do blow,
+  The cowslip in the zun,
+  The thyme upon the down do grow,
+  The clote where streams do run;
+  An' where do pretty maidens 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 gait,
+  An' pretty feaeces' smiles,
+  A-trippen on so light o' waight,
+  An' steppen off the stiles;
+  A-gwain to church, as bells do swing
+  An' ring 'ithin the tow'r,
+  You'd own the pretty maidens' pleaece
+  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 maidens to your mind,
+  In Blackmwore by the Stour."
+
+  An' if you look'd 'ithin their door,
+  To zee em in their pleaece,
+  A-doen housework up avore
+  Their smilen mother's feaece;
+  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 May,
+  There out upon the beaeten grass
+  Wer maidens at their play;
+  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 gleaeded,
+    By the woak tree's mossy moot,
+  The sheenen grass-bleaedes, timber-sheaeded,
+    Now do quiver under voot;
+  An' birds do whissle over head,
+  An' water's bubblen in its bed,
+  An' there vor me the apple tree
+  Do leaen down low in Linden Lea.
+
+  When leaves that leaetely wer a-springen
+    Now do feaede 'ithin the copse,
+  An' painted birds do hush their zingen
+    Up upon the timber's tops;
+  An' brown-leav'd fruit's a-turnen red,
+  In cloudless zunsheen, over head,
+  Wi' fruit vor me, the apple tree
+  Do leaen down low in Linden Lea.
+
+  Let other vo'k meaeke money vaster
+    In the air o' dark-room'd towns,
+  I don't dread a peevish meaester;
+    Though noo man do heed my frowns,
+  I be free to goo abrode,
+  Or teaeke ageaen my hwomeward road
+  To where, vor me, the apple tree
+  Do leaen down low in Linden Lea.
+
+
+
+
+BISHOP'S CAUNDLE.
+
+
+  At peace day, who but we should goo
+  To Caundle vor an' hour or two:
+  As gay 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 peaece,
+  The wold dun tow'r avore our feaece,
+  The air, at last, begun to come
+  Wi' drubbens ov a beaeten drum;
+  An' then we heaerd the horns' loud droats
+  Play off a tuen's upper notes;
+  An' then ageaen a-risen cheaerm
+  Vrom tongues o' people in a zwarm:
+  An' zoo, at last, we stood among
+  The merry feaeces o' the drong.
+  An' there, wi' garlands all a-tied
+  In wreaths an' bows on every zide,
+  An' color'd flags, a fluttren high
+  An' bright avore the sheenen sky,
+  The very guide-post wer a-drest
+  Wi' posies on his eaerms an' breast.
+  At last, the vo'k zwarm'd in by scores
+  An' hundreds droo the high barn-doors,
+  To dine on English feaere, in ranks,
+  A-zot on chairs, or stools, or planks,
+  By bwoards a-reachen, row an' row,
+  Wi' cloths so white as driven snow.
+  An' while they took, wi' merry cheer,
+  Their pleaeces at the meat an' beer,
+  The band did blow an' beaet aloud
+  Their merry tuens to the crowd;
+  An' slowly-zwingen flags did spread
+  Their hangen colors over head.
+  An' then the vo'k, wi' jay an' pride,
+  Stood up in stillness, zide by zide,
+  Wi' downcast heads, the while their friend
+  Rose up avore the teaeble's end,
+  An' zaid a timely greaece, an' blest
+  The welcome meat to every guest.
+  An' then arose a mingled naise
+  O' knives an' pleaetes, an' cups an' trays,
+  An' tongues wi' merry tongues a-drown'd
+  Below a deaf'nen 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' whirlen eaerms to dree times dree.
+  An' when the bwoards at last wer beaere
+  Ov all the cloths an' goodly feaere,
+  An' froth noo longer rose to zwim
+  Within the beer-mugs sheenen rim,
+  The vo'k, a-streamen drough the door,
+  Went out to geaemes they had in store
+  An' on the blue-reaev'd waggon's bed,
+  Above his vower wheels o' red,
+  Musicians zot in rows, an' play'd
+  Their tuens up to chap an' maid,
+  That beaet, wi' playsome tooes an' heels,
+  The level ground in nimble reels.
+  An' zome ageaen, a-zet in line,
+  An' starten at a given sign,
+  Wi' outreach'd breast, a-breathen quick
+  Droo op'nen lips, did nearly kick
+  Their polls, a-runnen sich a peaece,
+  Wi' streamen heaeir, to win the reaece.
+  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' smilen friends in happy knots,
+  That I do think, that drough the feaest
+  In Caundle, vor a day at leaest,
+  You woudden vind a scowlen feaece
+  Or dumpy heart in all the pleaece.
+
+
+
+
+HAY MEAKEN--NUNCHEN TIME.
+
+_Anne an' John a-ta'ken 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' heaerd your zongs a-ringen sh'ill,
+     Who woudden like to come, an' fling
+     A peaeir o' prongs where you did zing?"
+
+  J. Aye, aye, he woudden vind it play,
+     To work all day a-meaeken hay,
+     Or pitchen o't, to eaerms a-spread
+     By lwoaders, yards above his head,
+     'T'ud meaeke en wipe his drippen brow.
+
+  A. Or else a-reaeken after plow.
+
+  J. Or worken, wi' his nimble pick,
+     A-stiffled wi' the hay, at rick.
+
+  A. Our Company would suit en best,
+     When we do teaeke our bit o' rest,
+     At nunch, a-gather'd here below
+     The sheaede theaese wide-bough'd woak do drow,
+     Where hissen froth mid rise, an' float
+     In horns o' eaele, to wet his droat.
+
+  J. Aye, if his zwellen han' could drag
+     A meat-slice vrom his dinner bag.
+     'T'ud meaeke 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 reaeke is that a-lyen there?
+     Do look a bit the woo'se vor wear.
+
+  A. Oh! I mus' get the man to meaeke
+     A tooth or two vor thik wold reaeke,
+     'Tis leaebour 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 reaeke, 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 reaeke 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' pooken, yonder, vor a bet,
+     The prongs o'n gi'ed a tump a poke,
+     An' then I vound the stem a-broke,
+     But they do meaeke the stems o' picks
+     O' stuff so brittle as a kicks.
+
+  A. There's poor wold Jeaene, wi' wrinkled skin,
+     A-tellen, wi' her peaked chin,
+     Zome teaele ov her young days, poor soul.
+     Do meaeke the young-woones smile. 'Tis droll.
+     What is it? Stop, an' let's goo near.
+     I do like theaese wold teaeles. Let's hear.
+
+
+
+
+A FATHER OUT, AN' MOTHER HWOME.
+
+
+  The snow-white clouds did float on high
+  In shoals avore the sheenen sky,
+  An' runnen weaeves in pon' did cheaese
+  Each other on the water's feaece,
+  As hufflen win' did blow between
+  The new-leav'd boughs o' sheenen green.
+  An' there, the while I walked along
+  The path, drough leaeze, above the drong,
+  A little maid, wi' bloomen feaece,
+  Went on up hill wi' nimble peaece,
+  A-leaenen to the right-han' zide,
+  To car a basket that did ride,
+  A-hangen down, wi' all his heft,
+  Upon her elbow at her left.
+  An' yet she hardly seem'd to bruise
+  The grass-bleaedes 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-bearen 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 ashen poles, a-casten straight,
+  On primrwose beds, their langthy waight;
+  Below the yollow light, a-shed
+  Drough boughs upon the vi'let's head,
+  By climen ivy, that did reach,
+  A sheenen roun' the dead-leav'd beech.
+  An' there her father zot, an' meaede
+  His hwomely meal bezide a gleaede;
+  While she, a-croopen down to ground,
+  Did pull the flowers, where she vound
+  The droopen 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 blessens soon a-lost by zome;
+  A-lost by me, an' zoo I pray'd
+  They mid be speaer'd the little maid.
+
+
+
+
+RIDDLES.
+
+_Anne an' Joey a-ta'ken._
+
+
+  A. A plague! theaese cow wont stand a bit,
+     Noo sooner do she zee me zit
+     Ageaen her, than she's in a trot,
+     A-runnen to zome other spot.
+
+  J. Why 'tis the dog do sceaere the cow,
+     He worried her a-vield benow.
+
+  A. Goo in, Ah!  _Liplap_, where's your tail!
+
+  J. He's off, then up athirt the rail.
+     Your cow there, Anne's a-come to hand
+     A goodish milcher.  A. If she'd stand,
+     But then she'll steaere an' start wi' fright
+     To zee a dumbledore in flight.
+     Last week she het the pail a flought,
+     An' flung my meal o' milk half out.
+
+  J. Ha! Ha!  But Anny, here, what lout
+     Broke half your small pail's bottom out?
+
+  A. What lout indeed!  What, do ye own
+     The neaeme?  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 leaeky as a lather.
+     Could you vill pails '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 theaese little catch.
+     Down under water an' o' top o't
+     I went, an' didden touch a drop o't,
+
+  J. Not when at mowen time I took
+     An' pull'd ye out o' Longmeaed brook,
+     Where you'd a-slidder'd down the edge
+     An' zunk knee-deep bezide the zedge,
+     A-tryen to reaeke out a clote.
+
+  A. Aye I do hear your chucklen 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 nothen but his wheels wold rim.
+
+  A. There's _horn_ vor Goodman's eye-zight seaeke;
+     There's _horn_ vor Goodman's mouth to teaeke;
+     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 hornen cup.
+
+  J. An' eaele'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 meaeke a riddle o'?
+
+  J. Your dree-lagg'd stool woone night did bear
+     Up you a milken wi' a peaeir;
+     An' there a zix-lagg'd stout did prick
+     Your vow'r-lagg'd cow, an meaeke her kick,
+     A-hetten, 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 ceaese,
+     Wi' thik broad grin athirt your feaece
+     You saucy good-vor-nothen chap,
+     I'll gi'e your grinnen feaece a slap,
+     Your drawlen tongue can only run
+     To turn a body into fun.
+
+  J. Oh! I woont do 't ageaen.  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 ceaere.
+     I'll thump your noddle,--there--there--there.
+
+
+
+
+DAY'S WORK A-DONE.
+
+
+  And oh! the jay our rest did yield,
+    At evenen by the mossy wall,
+  When we'd a-work'd all day a-vield,
+    While zummer zuns did rise an' vall;
+      As there a-letten
+      Goo all fretten,
+  An' vorgetten all our tweils,
+  We zot among our childern's smiles.
+
+  An' under skies that glitter'd white,
+    The while our smoke, arisen blue,
+  Did melt in aier, out o' zight,
+    Above the trees that kept us lew;
+      Wer birds a-zingen,
+      Tongues a-ringen,
+  Childern springen, vull o' jay,
+  A-finishen the day in play.
+
+  An' back behind, a-stannen tall,
+    The cliff did sheen to western light;
+  An' while avore the water-vall,
+    A-rottlen loud, an' foamen white.
+      The leaves did quiver,
+      Gnots did whiver,
+  By the river, where the pool,
+  In evenen air did glissen cool.
+
+  An' childern there, a-runnen wide,
+    Did play their geaemes along the grove,
+  Vor though to us 'twer jay to bide
+    At rest, to them 'twer jay to move.
+      The while my smilen
+      Jeaene, beguilen,
+  All my tweilen, wi' her ceaere,
+  Did call me to my evenen feaere.
+
+
+
+
+LIGHT OR SHEAeDE.
+
+
+  A Maytide's evenen wer a-dyen,
+  Under moonsheen, into night,
+  Wi' a streamen wind a-sighen
+  By the thorns a-bloomen white.
+  Where in sheaede, a-zinken deeply,
+  Wer a nook, all dark but lew,
+  By a bank, arisen steeply,
+  Not to let the win' come drough.
+
+  Should my love goo out, a-showen
+  All her smiles, in open light;
+  Or, in lewth, wi' wind a-blowen,
+  Stay in darkness, dim to zight?
+  Stay in sheaede o' bank or wallen,
+  In the warmth, if not in light;
+  Words alwone vrom her a-vallen,
+  Would be jay vor all the night.
+
+
+
+
+THE WAGGON A-STOODED.
+
+_Dree o'm a-ta'ken o't._
+
+  (1) Well, here we be, then, wi' the vu'st poor lwoad
+      O' vuzz we brought, a-stooded 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 pleaece we can't get drough.
+
+  (1) Well, there, the vu'st lwoad we've a-haul'd to day
+      Is here a-stooded in theaese 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 meaeres wull never pull the waggon out,
+    A-lwoaded, an' a-stooded 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' overstrain the meaeres.  '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 theaese here quag?
+      The vore-wheels be a-zunk above the nuts.
+
+  (3) What then?  I coulden leaeve the beaeten track,
+      To turn the waggon over on the back
+      Ov woone o' theaesem 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 speaede to dig wi'.
+
+  (1) An' teaeke 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-comen.  Here, my lad,
+      Dost know vor a'r a speaede, 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 speaede to dig out theaesem 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 theaese vuzzen.
+
+  (1) Well, we mus' lighten en; come, Jeaemes, then, hop
+      Upon the lwoad, an' jus' fling off the top.
+
+  (2) If I can clim' en; but 'tis my consait,
+      That I shall overzet en wi' my waight.
+
+  (1) You overzet en!  No, Jeaemes, 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! Teaeke ceaere!
+      Ho! I'm a-vallen, vuzz an' all! Hae! 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-lyen lik' a staddle,
+      An' he a-deaeb'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 teaeke me vor a nincompoop,
+      No, no.  The lwoad wer up so firm's a rock,
+      But two o' theaesem emmet-butts would knock
+      The tightest barrel nearly out o' hoop.
+
+  (3) Oh! now then, here 's the bwoy a-bringen back
+      The speaede.  Well done, my man.  That idder slack.
+
+  (2) Well done, my lad, sha't have a ho'se to ride
+      When thou'st a meaere.  (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 speaede 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 theaesem quags.
+
+  (3) You build your lwoads up tight enough to ride.
+
+  (1) I can't do less, d'ye know, wi' you vor guide.
+
+
+
+
+GWAIN DOWN THE STEPS VOR WATER.
+
+
+  While zuns do roll vrom east to west
+  To bring us work, or leaeve 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-comen on,
+  To bloom when they be weak an' wan,
+  Went down the steps vor water.
+
+  An' what do yonder ringers tell
+  A-ringen 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-blushen vor his bride,
+  A pretty maid that vu'st he spied,
+  Gwain down the steps vor water.
+
+  Though she, 'tis true, is feaeir an' kind,
+  There still be mwore a-left behind;
+  So cleaen '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 teaeke off woone that I do know,
+  A-trippen gaily 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 tails
+  Behind his pails, below his boughs:
+  An' then ageaen to win my love,
+  Why, she's as hwomely as a dove,
+  An' don't hold up herzelf above
+  Gwain down the steps vor water.
+
+  Gwain down the steps vor water! No!
+  How handsome it do meaeke her grow.
+  If she'd be straight, or walk abrode,
+  To tread her road wi' comely gait,
+  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 neaeme in woone seaeme breath
+  Wi' bachelors, the husband's he'th;
+  The happy pleaece, where vingers thin
+  Do pull woone's chin, or pat woone's feaece.
+  But still the bleaeme is their's, to slight
+  Their happiness, wi' such a zight
+  O' maidens, mornen, noon, an' night,
+  A-gwain down steps vor water.
+
+
+
+
+ELLEN BRINE OV ALLENBURN.
+
+
+  Noo soul did hear her lips complain,
+  An' she's a-gone vrom all her pain,
+  An' others' loss to her is gain
+  For she do live in heaven's love;
+  Vull many a longsome day an' week
+  She bore her ailen, still, an' meek;
+  A-worken while her strangth held on,
+  An' guiden 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 feaece, a-feaeded white,
+  Wer in a zummer's mornen light
+  In hall avore the smwold'ren vier,
+  The while the childern beaet the vloor,
+  In play, wi' tiny shoes they wore,
+  An' call'd their mother's eyes to view
+  The feaet's their little limbs could do.
+  Oh! Ellen Brine ov Allenburn,
+  They childern now mus' murn.
+
+  Then woone, a-stoppen vrom his reaece,
+  Went up, an' on her knee did pleaece
+  His hand, a-looken in her feaece,
+  An' wi' a smilen mouth so small,
+  He zaid, "You promised us to goo
+  To Shroton feaeir, an' teaeke us two!"
+  She heaerd 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 feaeir,
+  But Ellen Brine wer never there!
+  A heavy heart wer on the meaere
+  Their father rod his hwomeward road.
+  'Tis true he brought zome feaerens back,
+  Vor them two childern all in black;
+  But they had now, wi' playthings 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 zetten pleaece
+  The clouds, a-redden'd by his light,
+    Still glow'd avore my feaece.
+  An' I've a-lost my Meaery's smile,
+  I thought; but still I have her chile,
+  Zoo like her, that my eyes can treaece
+  The mother's in her daughter's feaece.
+    O little feaece 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 Meaery'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 LEAeDY'S TOWER.
+
+
+  An' then we went along the gleaedes
+  O' zunny turf, in quiv'ren sheaedes,
+  A-winden 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 steaetely tow'r did spring,
+  So high as highest larks do zing.
+
+  "Oh! Meaester Collins," then I zaid,
+  A-looken up wi' back-flung head;
+  Vor who but he, so mild o' feaece,
+  Should teaeke me there to zee the pleaece.
+  "What is it then theaese tower do meaen,
+  A-built so feaeir, an' kept so cleaen?"
+  "Ah! me," he zaid, wi' thoughtvul feaece,
+  "'Twer grief that zet theaese tower in pleaece.
+  The squier's e'thly life's a-blest
+  Wi' gifts that mwost do teaeke vor best;
+  The lofty-pinion'd rufs do rise
+  To screen his head vrom stormy skies;
+  His land's a-spreaden roun' his hall,
+  An' hands do leaebor at his call;
+  The while the ho'se do fling, wi' pride,
+  His lofty head where he do guide;
+  But still his e'thly jay'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'ren on,
+  Do do his heart zome good to show
+  His love to flesh an' blood below.
+  An' zoo he rear'd, wi' smitten soul,
+  Theaese Leaedy'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 eaeves,
+  Above their heads a-carv'd wi' leaves;
+  An' have to peaece, a-walken round
+  His voot, a hunderd veet o' ground.
+  An' there, above his upper wall,
+  A rounded tow'r do spring so tall
+  'S a springen arrow shot upright,
+  A hunderd giddy veet in height.
+  An' if you'd like to strain your knees
+  A-climen up above the trees,
+  To zee, wi' slowly wheelen feaece,
+  The vur-sky'd land about the pleaece,
+  You'll have a flight o' steps to wear
+  Vor forty veet, up steaeir by steaeir,
+  That roun' the risen tow'r do wind,
+  Like withwind roun' the saplen's rind,
+  An' reach a landen, wi' a seat,
+  To rest at last your weary veet,
+  'Ithin a breast be-screenen wall,
+  To keep ye vrom a longsome vall.
+  An' roun' the winden steaeirs do spring
+  Aight stwonen pillars in a ring,
+  A-reachen up their heavy strangth
+  Drough forty veet o' slender langth,
+  To end wi' carved heads below
+  The broad-vloor'd landen's airy bow.
+  Aight zides, as you do zee, do bound
+  The lower builden on the ground,
+  An' there in woone, a two-leav'd door
+  Do zwing above the marble vloor:
+  An' aye, as luck do zoo betide
+  Our comen, 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-painted, zide by zide,
+  In memory o' the squier's bride,
+  In zeven paintens, true to life,
+  Wer zeven zights o' wedded life."
+
+  Then Meaester Collins twold me all
+  The teaeles a-painted roun' the wall;
+  An' vu'st the bride did stan' to plight
+  Her wedden vow, below the light
+  A-shooten down, so bright's a fleaeme,
+  In drough a churches window freaeme.
+  An' near the bride, on either hand,
+  You'd zee her comely bridemaids stand,
+  Wi' eyelashes a-bent in streaeks
+  O' brown above their bloomen cheaeks:
+  An' sheenen feaeir, in mellow light,
+  Wi' flowen heaeir, an' frocks o' white.
+
+  "An' here," good Meaester Collins cried,
+  "You'll zee a creaedle at her zide,
+  An' there's her child, a-lyen deep
+  'Ithin it, an' a-gone to sleep,
+  Wi' little eyelashes a-met
+  In fellow streaeks, as black as jet;
+  The while her needle, over head,
+  Do nimbly leaed the snow-white thread,
+  To zew a robe her love do meaeke
+  Wi' happy leaebor vor his seaeke.
+
+  "An' here a-geaen's another pleaece,
+  Where she do zit wi' smilen feaece,
+  An' while her bwoy do leaen, wi' pride,
+  Ageaen her lap, below her zide,
+  Her vinger tip do leaed his look
+  To zome good words o' God's own book.
+
+  "An' next you'll zee her in her pleaece,
+  Avore her happy husband's feaece,
+  As he do zit, at evenen-tide,
+  A-resten by the vier-zide.
+  An' there the childern's heads do rise
+  Wi' laughen lips, an' beamen eyes,
+  Above the bwoard, where she do lay
+  Her sheenen tacklen, wi' the tea.
+
+  "An' here another zide do show
+  Her vinger in her scizzars' bow
+  Avore two daughters, that do stand,
+  Wi' leaernsome minds, to watch her hand
+  A-sheaepen out, wi' skill an' ceaere,
+  A frock vor them to zew an' wear.
+
+  "Then next you'll zee her bend her head
+  Above her ailen husband's bed,
+  A-fannen, wi' an inward pray'r,
+  His burnen brow wi' beaeten air;
+  The while the clock, by candle light,
+  Do show that 'tis the dead o' night.
+
+  "An' here ageaen upon the wall,
+  Where we do zee her last ov all,
+  Her husband's head's a-hangen low,
+  'Ithin his hands in deepest woe.
+  An' she, an angel ov his God,
+  Do cheer his soul below the rod,
+  A-liften up her han' to call
+  His eyes to writen on the wall,
+  As white as is her spotless robe,
+  'Hast thou remembered 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 reaedship in that.
+  Whether vo'k mid have childern or no,
+    Wou'dden meaeke mighty odds in the main;
+  They do bring us mwore jay wi' mwore ho,
+    An' wi' nwone we've less jay wi' less pain
+  We be all lik' a zull's idle sheaere out,
+  An' shall rust out, unless we do wear out,
+    Lik' do-nothen, rue-nothen,
+          Dead alive dumps.
+
+  As vor me, why my life idden bound
+    To my own heart alwone, among men;
+    I do live in myzelf, an' ageaen
+  In the lives o' my childern all round:
+  I do live wi' my bwoy in his play,
+    An' ageaen wi' my maid in her zongs;
+  An' my heart is a-stirr'd wi' their jay,
+    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 playvully, jayvully,
+          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 eaerm,
+    An' another did rub my feaece 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-en into their hive,
+  An' they meaede 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 tays I did bring;
+    Men a-kicken, 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 tays,
+  That vor pleasure the bigger woones wrung
+    Their two hands at the zight o' their jays;
+  As the bwoys' bigger vaices vell in
+  Wi' the maidens a-titteren thin,
+    An' their dancen an' prancen,
+          An' little mouth's laughs.
+
+  Though 'tis hard stripes to breed em all up,
+    If I'm only a-blest vrom above,
+    They'll meaeke me amends wi' their love,
+  Vor their pillow, their pleaete, 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 blessens 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-air'd evenen's western light,
+  An' hay 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 maid in all her bloom:
+      The feairest maid o' Newton.
+
+  She bore a basket that did ride
+  So light, she didden leaen azide;
+  Her feaece 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 maid o' Newton.
+
+  I call'd her, oh! I don't know who,
+  'Twer by a neaeme 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-zwimmen wet,
+      "No, I be woone o' Newton."
+
+  Then on I rambled to the west,
+  Below the zunny hangen'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 maid o' Newton.
+
+  By fancy led, at evenen's glow,
+  I woonce did goo, a-roven slow,
+  Down where the elems, 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 maid o' Newton.
+
+
+
+
+CHILDHOOD.
+
+
+  Aye, at that time our days wer but vew,
+  An' our lim's wer but small, an' a-growen;
+  An' then the feaeir worold wer new,
+  An' life wer all hopevul an' gay;
+  An' the times o' the sprouten o' leaves,
+  An' the cheaek-burnen seasons o' mowen,
+  An' binden o' red-headed sheaves,
+  Wer all welcome seasons o' jay.
+
+  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' veelens now feeble wer strong,
+  An' our worold did end wi' the neaemes
+  Ov the Sha'sbury Hill or Bulbarrow;
+  An' life did seem only the geaemes
+  That we play'd as the days rolled along.
+
+  Then the rivers, an' high-timber'd lands,
+  An' the zilvery hills, 'ithout buyen,
+  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-dyen,
+  An' leaeve us vor ever a-freed
+  Vrom evils our vorefathers bore.
+
+  But happy be childern the while
+  They have elders a-liven to love em,
+  An' teaeke 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 blowen storm
+  That the timber avore em must rue.
+
+
+
+
+MEAeRY'S SMILE.
+
+
+  When mornen winds, a-blowen 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 feaece ov e'th an' skies,
+      But Meaery's smile, o' Morey's Mill,
+      My rwose o' Mowy Lea.
+
+  An' when, at last, the evenen dews
+  Do now begin to wet our shoes;
+  An' night's a-riden to the west,
+  To stop our work, an' gi'e us rest,
+  Oh! let the candle's ruddy gleaere
+  But brighten up her sheenen heaeir;
+  Or else, as she do walk abroad,
+  Let moonlight show, upon the road,
+      My Meaery's smile, o' Morey's Mill,
+      My rwose o' Mowy Lea.
+
+  An' O! mid never tears come on,
+  To wash her feaece's blushes wan,
+  Nor kill her smiles that now do play
+  Like sparklen weaeves in zunny May;
+  But mid she still, vor all she's gone
+  Vrom souls she now do smile upon,
+  Show others they can vind woone jay
+  To turn the hardest work to play.
+      My Meaery's smile, o' Morey's Mill,
+      My rwose o' Mowy Lea.
+
+
+
+
+MEAeRY WEDDED.
+
+
+  The zun can zink, the stars mid rise,
+  An' woods be green to sheenen skies;
+  The cock mid crow to mornen light,
+  An' workvo'k zing to vallen night;
+  The birds mid whissle on the spray,
+  An' childern leaep in merry play,
+  But our's is now a lifeless pleaece,
+  Vor we've a-lost a smilen feaece--
+      Young Meaery Meaed o' merry mood,
+      Vor she's a-woo'd an' wedded.
+
+  The dog that woonce wer glad to bear
+  Her fondlen vingers down his heaeir,
+  Do leaen his head ageaen 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 Meaery Meaed o' merry mood,
+      Vor she's a-woo'd an' wedded.
+
+  When they do draw the evenen blind,
+  An' when the evenen light's a-tin'd,
+  The cheerless vier do drow a gleaere
+  O' light ageaen her empty chair;
+  An' wordless gaps do now meaeke thin
+  Their talk where woonce her vaice come in.
+  Zoo lwonesome is her empty pleaece,
+  An' blest the house that ha' the feaece
+      O' Meaery Meaed, 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 eaese,
+  Went snorten up the flow'ry leaese,
+  But woone, the smartest for the roaed,
+  That pull'd away the dearest lwoad--
+      Young Meaery Meaed 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-clingen to the walls,
+  In ev'ry wind the lofty tow'rs
+  Do teaeke the zun, an' bear the show'rs;
+  An' there, 'ithin a geaet 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,
+  Vorseaeken, 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-risen weak,
+  At break o' day, do smite his cheaek,
+  Or while, at noon, the leafy bough
+  Do cast a sheaede 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 rainless sheaedes, 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-blowen cool,
+  Do dreve em out athirt the pool,
+  Or Winter's clouds do gather dark
+  An' wet, wi' rain, the elem's bark,
+  You'll zee his pretty smile betwixt
+  His little sheaede-mark'd lips a-fix'd;
+  As there his little sheaepe 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 seaeme in feaece, the seaeme in lim',
+  My heaeir mid whiten as the snow,
+  My limbs grow weak, my step wear slow,
+  My droopen head mid slowly vall
+  Above the han'-staff's glossy ball,
+  An' yeet, vor all a wid'nen span
+  Ov years, mid change a liven 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-liven on, a child the seaeme
+  In look, an' sheaepe, an' size, an' neaeme.
+
+
+
+
+THE YOUNG THAT DIED IN BEAUTY.
+
+
+  If souls should only sheen so bright
+  In heaven as in e'thly light,
+  An' nothen better wer the ceaese,
+  How comely still, in sheaepe an' feaece,
+  Would many reach thik happy pleaece,--
+  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-tweilen drough a lifetime's langth,
+  An' over cheaeks a-growen wold
+  The slowly-weaesten years ha' rolled,
+  The deep'nen 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 pinen 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 prayer do rise
+  Vrom thoughtvul souls, wi' downcast eyes.
+  An' village greens, a-beaet half beaere
+  By dancers that do meet, an' weaer
+  Such merry looks at feaest an' feaeir,
+  Do gather under leatest skies,
+  Their bloomen cheaeks an' sparklen eyes,
+  Though young ha' died in beauty.
+
+  But still the dead shall mwore than keep
+  The beauty ov their eaerly sleep;
+  Where comely looks shall never weaer
+  Uncomely, under tweil an' ceaere.
+  The feaeir at death be always feaeir,
+  Still feaeir to livers' thought an' love,
+  An' feaeirer still to God above,
+  Than when they died in beauty.
+
+
+
+
+FAIR EMILY OV YARROW MILL.
+
+
+  Dear Yarrowham, 'twer many miles
+    Vrom thy green meaeds that, in my walk,
+  I met a maid wi' winnen 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 geaerden's mossy zides,
+  Thy grassy meaeds an' zedgy brook,
+    An' high-bank'd leaenes, wi' sheaedy rides,
+  Wer all a-known to me by light
+  Ov eaerly days, a-quench'd by night,
+  Avore they met the younger zight
+                Ov Emily ov Yarrow Mill.
+
+  An' now my heart do leaep to think
+    O' times that I've a-spent in play,
+  Bezide thy river's rushy brink,
+    Upon a deaeizybed o' May;
+  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' air o' zummer nights do blow
+    Athirt the vields in playsome flight,
+  'Tis then delightsome under all
+  The sheaedes o' boughs by path or wall,
+  But mwostly thine when they do vall
+                On Emily ov Yarrow Mill.
+
+
+
+
+THE SCUD.
+
+
+  Aye, aye, the leaene 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' geaete that I've a-swung,
+  An' rod as he's a-hung,
+  When I wer young, in Woakley Coomb.
+
+  'Twer there at feaest we all did pass
+  The evenen on the leaenezide grass,
+  Out where the geaete do let us drough,
+  Below the woak-trees in the lew,
+  In merry geaemes an' fun
+  That meaede us skip an' run,
+  Wi' burnen zun, an' sky o' blue.
+
+  But still there come a scud that drove
+  The titt'ren maidens vrom the grove;
+  An' there a-left wer flow'ry mound,
+  'Ithout a vaice, 'ithout a sound,
+  Unless the air did blow,
+  Drough ruslen leaves, an' drow,
+  The rain drops low, upon the ground.
+
+  I linger'd there an' miss'd the naise;
+  I linger'd there an' miss'd our jays;
+  I miss'd woone soul beyond the rest;
+  The maid that I do like the best.
+  Vor where her vaice is gay
+  An' where her smiles do play,
+  There's always jay 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 vaice do vall,
+  Wi' kindly words to all,
+  Both big an' small, the whole day drough.
+
+  An' when the evenen sky wer peaele,
+  We heaerd the warblen nightengeaele,
+  A-drawen out his lwonesome zong,
+  In winden 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 vaice wer still;
+  An' as she stood avore me, bound
+  In stillness to the flow'ry mound,
+  "The bird's a jay to zome,"
+  I thought, "but when he's dum,
+  Her vaice will come, wi' sweeter sound."
+
+
+
+
+MINDEN HOUSE.
+
+
+  'Twer when the vo'k wer out to hawl
+  A vield o' hay 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 geaete or door,--young Fanny Deaene.
+
+  The air 'ithin the geaerden wall
+  Wer deadly still, unless the bee
+  Did hummy by, or in the hall
+  The clock did ring a-hetten dree,
+  An' there, wi' busy hands, inside
+  The iron ceaesement, oben'd wide,
+  Did zit an' pull wi' nimble twitch
+  Her tiny stitch, young Fanny Deaene.
+
+  As there she zot she heaerd two blows
+  A-knock'd upon the rumblen door,
+  An' laid azide her work, an' rose,
+  An' walk'd out feaeir, athirt the vloor;
+  An' there, a-holden in his hand
+  His bridled meaere, a youth did stand,
+  An' mildly twold his neaeme and pleaece
+  Avore the feaece o' Fanny Deaene.
+
+  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 Deaene.
+
+  An' oh! his hwomeward road wer gay
+  In air a-blowen, whiff by whiff,
+  While sheenen water-weaeves did play
+  An' boughs did sway above the cliff;
+  Vor Time had now a-show'd en dim
+  The jay it had in store vor him;
+  An' when he went thik road ageaen
+  His errand then wer Fanny Deaene.
+
+  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 Deaene.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOVELY MAID OV ELWELL MEAeD.
+
+
+  A maid wi' many gifts o' greaece,
+  A maid wi' ever-smilen feaece,
+  A child o' yours my chilhood's pleaece,
+    O leaenen lawns ov Allen;
+  'S a-walken where your stream do flow,
+  A-blushen where your flowers do blow,
+  A-smilen where your zun do glow,
+    O leaenen lawns ov Allen.
+      An' good, however good's a-waigh'd,
+      'S the lovely maid ov Elwell Meaed.
+
+  An' oh! if I could teaeme an' guide
+  The winds above the e'th, an' ride
+  As light as shooten stars do glide,
+    O leaenen lawns ov Allen,
+  To you I'd teaeke my daily flight,
+  Drough dark'nen air in evenen's light,
+  An' bid her every night "Good night,"
+    O leaenen lawns ov Allen.
+      Vor good, however good's a-waigh'd,
+      'S the lovely maid ov Elwell Meaed.
+
+  An' when your hedges' slooes be blue,
+  By blackberries o' dark'nen hue,
+  An' spiders' webs behung wi' dew,
+    O leaenen lawns ov Allen
+  Avore the winter air's a-chill'd,
+  Avore your winter brook's a-vill'd
+  Avore your zummer flow'rs be kill'd,
+    O leaenen lawns ov Allen;
+      I there would meet, in white array'd,
+      The lovely maid ov Elwell Meaed.
+
+  For when the zun, as birds do rise,
+  Do cast their sheaedes vrom autum' skies,
+  A-sparklen in her dewy eyes,
+    O leaenen lawns ov Allen
+  Then all your mossy paths below
+  The trees, wi' leaves a-vallen slow,
+  Like zinken fleaekes o' yollow snow,
+    O leaenen lawns ov Allen.
+      Would be mwore teaeken where they stray'd
+      The lovely maid ov Elwell Meaed.
+
+
+
+
+OUR FATHERS' WORKS.
+
+
+  Ah! I do think, as I do tread
+  Theaese path, wi' elems overhead,
+  A-climen slowly up vrom Bridge,
+  By easy steps, to Broadwoak Ridge,
+  That all theaese 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' ceaere an' thought.
+
+  They clear'd the groun' vor grass to teaeke
+  The pleaece that bore the bremble breaeke,
+  An' drain'd the fen, where water spread,
+  A-lyen dead, a beaene 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 pleaece, where we mid seek
+  The gifts o' greaece 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' meaeke rejaice,
+  Wi' giant vaice, at our good news:
+  An' lifted stwones an' beams to keep
+  The rain an' cwold vrom us asleep.
+
+  Zoo now mid nwone ov us vorget
+  The pattern our vorefathers zet;
+  But each be faein to underteaeke
+  Some work to meaeke vor others' gain,
+  That we mid leaeve mwore good to sheaere,
+  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-comen on,
+  Do bring me still my mother's smiles
+  In light that now do show my chile's;
+  An' I've a-sheaer'd the wold vo'ks' me'th,
+  Avore the burnen Chris'mas he'th,
+  At friendly bwoards, where feaece by feaece,
+  Did, year by year, gi'e up its pleaece,
+  An' leaeve 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' fretten worms ha' slowly wound,
+  Droo beams the wold vo'k lifted sound,
+  An' trees they planted little slips
+  Ha' stems that noo two eaerms can clips;
+  An' grey an' yollow moss do spread
+  On buildens 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-climen up the brows
+  O' knaps, a-screen'd by meaeple boughs,
+  Wer all a-mark'd in sheaede an' light
+  Avore our wolder fathers' zight,
+  In zunny days, a-gied their hands
+  For happy work, a-tillen lands,
+  That now do yield their childern bread
+  Till they do rest wi' wold vo'k dead.
+
+  But liven vo'k, a-grieven on,
+  Wi' lwonesome love, vor souls a-gone,
+  Do zee their goodness, but do vind
+  All else a-stealen out o' mind;
+  As air do meaeke the vurthest land
+  Look feaeirer than the vield at hand,
+  An' zoo, as time do slowly pass,
+  So still's a sheaede upon the grass,
+  Its wid'nen speaece 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' faith, an' jay, 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 meaede em frown.
+  An' jay o' jays will dry the tear
+  O' sadness that do trickle here,
+  An' nothen 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 pleaece 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' ageaen, wi' veathery tops,
+  A-swayen up in North-Hill Copse.
+  An' on the east the mornen broke
+  Above a dewy grove o' woak:
+  An' noontide shed its burnen light
+  On ashes on the southern height;
+  An' I could vind zome teaeles 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 sheaedes
+  O' timber, or the burnen gleaedes,
+  An' come at evenen up the leaeze
+  Wi' red-eaer'd dogs bezide his knees.
+  An' hold his gun, a-hangen drough
+  His eaermpit, 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 woaek, wi' spreaden head,
+  Did sheaede the foxes' verny bed;
+  An' runnen heaeres, in zunny gleaedes,
+  Did beaet the grasses' quiv'ren' bleaedes;
+  An' speckled pa'tridges took flight
+  In stubble vields a-feaeden white;
+  Or he could zee the pheasant strut
+  In sheaedy woods, wi' painted 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 feaece
+  Is gone to vind a better pleaece;
+  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' trotten round his grounds,
+  An' we have all a-left the spot,
+  To teaeke, a-scatter'd, each his lot;
+  An' even Father, lik' the rest,
+  Ha' left our long vorseaeken nest;
+  An' we should vind it sad to dwell,
+  Ageaen at hwome in Culver Dell.
+
+  The airy mornens still mid smite
+  Our windows wi' their rwosy light,
+  An' high-zunn'd noons mid dry the dew
+  On growen groun' below our shoe;
+  The blushen evenen still mid dye,
+  Wi' viry red, the western sky;
+  The zunny spring-time's quicknen 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' geaerden that a hatch do shut,
+  Where vu'st our bloomen cheaeks 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 zingen lark aloft,
+  The while we heaerd the echo sound
+  Drough all the ringen valley round.
+
+  A lwonesome grove o' woak did rise,
+  To screen our house, where smoke did rise,
+  A-twisten blue, while yeet the zun
+  Did langthen on our childhood's fun;
+  An' there, wi' all the sheaepes an' sounds
+  O' life, among the timber'd grounds,
+  The birds upon their boughs did zing,
+  An' milkmaids by their cows did zing,
+  Wi' merry sounds, that softly died,
+  A-ringen down the valley zide.
+
+  By river banks, wi' reeds a-bound,
+  An' sheenen pools, wi' weeds a-bound,
+  The long-neck'd gander's ruddy bill
+  To snow-white geese did cackle sh'ill;
+  An' striden peewits heaesten'd by,
+  O' tiptooe wi' their screamen cry;
+  An' stalken cows a-lowen loud,
+  An' strutten cocks a-crowen 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 sleepen eyes all dark,
+  An' zuns a-rollen round to bring
+  The seasons on, vrom Spring to Spring,
+  Ha' vled, wi' never-resten flight,
+  Drough green-bough'd day, an' dark-tree'd night;
+  Till now our childhood's pleaeces there,
+  Be gay wi' other feaeces there,
+  An' we ourselves do vollow on
+  Our own vorelivers dead an' gone.
+
+
+
+
+THE WINDOW FREAeM'D WI' STWONE.
+
+
+  When Pentridge House wer still the nest
+  O' souls that now ha' better rest,
+  Avore the vier burnt to ground
+  His beams an' walls, that then wer sound,
+  'Ithin a nail-bestudded door,
+  An' passage wi' a stwonen vloor,
+  There spread the hall, where zun-light shone
+  In drough a window freaem'd wi' stwone.
+
+  A clavy-beam o' sheenen woak
+  Did span the he'th wi' twisten smoke,
+  Where fleaemes did shoot in yollow streaks,
+  Above the brands, their flashen peaks;
+  An' aunt did pull, as she did stand
+  O'-tip-tooe, wi' her lifted hand,
+  A curtain feaeded wi' the zun,
+  Avore the window freaem'd wi' stwone.
+
+  When Hwome-ground grass, below the moon,
+  Wer damp wi' evenen dew in June,
+  An' aunt did call the maidens in
+  Vrom walken, 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 freaem'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 meaede em all to spy
+  In Stwonylands their friends draw nigh,
+  As they did know em all by neaeme
+  Out drough the window's stwonen freaeme.
+
+  O evenen zun, a-riden drough
+  The sky, vrom Sh'oton Hill o' blue,
+  To leaeve the night a-brooden dark
+  At Stalbridge, wi' its grey-wall'd park;
+  Small jay to me the vields do bring,
+  Vor all their zummer birds do zing,
+  Since now thy beams noo mwore do fleaeme
+  In drough the window's stwonen freaeme.
+
+
+
+
+THE WATER-SPRING IN THE LEANE.
+
+
+  Oh! aye! the spring 'ithin the leaene,
+  A-leaeden down to Lyddan Brook;
+  An' still a-nesslen in his nook,
+  As weeks do pass, an' moons do weaene.
+        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-blushen in her prime;
+  The widow wi' her eyezight dim;
+        Maidens dippen,
+        Childern sippen,
+  Water drippen, at the cool
+  Dark wallen ov the little pool.
+
+  Behind the spring do lie the lands
+  My father till'd, vrom Spring to Spring,
+  Awaeiten on vor time to bring
+  The crops to pay his weary hands.
+        Wheat a-growen,
+        Beaens a-blowen,
+  Grass vor mowen, where the bridge
+  Do leaed to Ryall's on the ridge.
+
+  But who do know when liv'd an' died
+  The squier o' the mwoldren hall;
+  That lined en wi' a stwonen wall,
+  An' steaen'd so cleaen his wat'ry zide?
+        We behind en,
+        Now can't vind en,
+  But do mind en, an' do thank
+  His meaeker vor his little tank.
+
+
+
+
+THE POPLARS.
+
+
+  If theaese day's work an' burnen 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 evenen aier cool my het,
+  When dew do wet the grasses bleaedes,
+  A-quiv'ren in the dusky sheaedes.
+
+  There yonder poplar trees do play
+  Soft music, as their heads do sway,
+  While wind, a-rustlen soft or loud,
+  Do stream ageaen their lofty sh'oud;
+  An' seem to heal the ranklen 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 naighbours' 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 teaeke
+  Mwore ceaere o'm vor the wold vo'k's seaeke.
+
+  An' there, wi' stems a-growen tall
+  Avore the houses mossy wall,
+  The while the moon ha' slowly past
+  The leafy window, they've a-cast
+  Their sheaedes 'ithin the window peaene;
+  While childern have a-grown to men,
+  An' then ageaen ha' left their beds,
+  To bear their childern's heavy heads.
+
+
+
+
+THE LINDEN ON THE LAWN.
+
+
+  No! Jenny, there's noo pleaece to charm
+  My mind lik' yours at Woakland farm,
+  A-peaerted vrom the busy town,
+  By longsome miles ov airy down,
+  Where woonce the meshy wall did gird
+  Your flow'ry geaerden, an' the bird
+  Did zing in zummer wind that stirr'd
+  The spreaeden linden on the lawn.
+
+  An' now ov all the trees wi' sheaedes
+  A-wheelen round in Blackmwore gleaedes,
+  There's noo tall poplar by the brook,
+  Nor elem that do rock the rook,
+  Nor ash upon the shelven 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 air did blow,
+  An' sheaeke the dewy rwose a-tied
+  Up roun' the window's stwonen zide.
+  An' while the carter rod' along
+  A-zingen, down the dusky drong,
+  There you did zing a sweeter zong
+  Below the linden on the lawn.
+
+  An' while your warbled ditty wound
+  Drough playsome flights o' mellow sound,
+  The nightengeaele'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 stwonen-window'd hall,
+  Avore your father's blinken eyes,
+  His evenen whiff o' smoke did rise,
+  An' vrom the bedroom window's height
+  Your little John, a-cloth'd in white,
+  An' gwain 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 geaebled house's pworched door,
+  Noo laughen child a-cloth'd in white,
+  Look'd drough the stwonen window's light,
+  An' noo vaice 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 feaece
+  My smile should yield a frown its pleaece,
+  Then, Jenny, only laugh an' call
+  My mind 'ithin the geaerden wall,
+  Where we did play 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 evenen he'th's a-glowen warm,
+    Drough wringen vrost, an' roaren storm,
+  Though winds mid meaeke the wold beams sheaeke,
+      In our abode in Arby Wood.
+
+    An' there, though we mid hear the timber
+      Creake avore the windy rain;
+    An' climen ivy quiver, limber,
+      Up ageaen the window peaene;
+    Our merry vaices then do sound,
+    In rollen glee, or dree-vaice 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' teaeles
+  Vrom vaice o' maid or youth,
+  An' sweeter than the nightengeaele'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 peaece
+  O' comen days a-head,
+  That now do seem as in a reaece
+  Wi' air-birds to ha' vled.
+
+
+
+
+THE VIER-ZIDE.
+
+
+  'Tis zome vo'ks jay to teaeke the road,
+  An' goo abro'd, a-wand'ren wide,
+  Vrom shere to shere, vrom pleaece to pleaece,
+  The swiftest peaece that vo'k can ride.
+  But I've a jay 'ithin the door,
+  Wi' friends avore the vier-zide.
+
+  An' zoo, when winter skies do lour,
+  An' when the Stour's a-rollen wide,
+  Drough bridge-voot rails, a-painted white,
+  To be at night the traveller's guide,
+  Gi'e me a pleaece that's warm an' dry,
+  A-zitten 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'nen door
+  Would leaed noo mwore where he did bide
+  An' where I heaerd his vaices sound,
+  In me'th around the vier-zide.
+
+  As I've a-zeed how vast do vall
+  The mwold'ren 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 feaeces there! Ah! zome ha' died,
+  An' zome be gone to leaeve wi' gaps
+  O' missen 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 speaere
+  To zit an' sheaere 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 pleaece to pleaece, John,
+  Zome would goo from feaece to feaece, John,
+  But I be happy in my hwomely nest;
+  An' slight's the hope vor any pleaece bezide,
+  To leaeve the plain abode where love do bide.
+
+  Where the shelven knap do vall, John,
+  Under trees a-springen tall, John;
+  'Tis there my house do show his sheenen zide,
+  Wi' his walls vor ever green, John,
+  Under ivy that's a screen, John,
+  Vrom wet an' het, an' ev'ry changen tide,
+  An' I do little ho vor goold or pride,
+  To leaeve the plain abode where love do bide.
+
+  There the benden 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-looken out o' mill:
+  The while 'ithin his lightly-sheaeken door.
+  His wheaten flour do whiten all his floor.
+
+  When my daily work's a-done, John,
+  At the zetten o' the zun, John,
+  An' I all day 've a-play'd a good man's peaert,
+  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 plain 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 heaeir;
+  While a zingen drush do sway, John,
+  Up an' down upon a spray, John,
+  An' cast his sheaede 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 maid a-zingen by the stream, John,
+  Or carter whislen wi' his team, John,
+  Or zingen birds, or water at the hatch;
+  An' zoo wi' sounds o' vaice, 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-burnen on my bwoard,
+  Then vor pleasures out o' door, John,
+  I've enough upon my vloor, John:
+  My Jenny's loven deed, an' look, an' word,
+  An' we be lwoth, lik' culvers zide by zide,
+  To leaeve the plain abode where love do bide.
+
+
+
+
+HALLOWED PLEAeCES.
+
+
+  At Woodcombe farm, wi' ground an' tree
+  Hallow'd by times o' youthvul glee,
+  At Chris'mas time I spent a night
+  Wi' feaeces dearest to my zight;
+  An' took my wife to tread, woonce mwore,
+  Her maiden hwome's vorseaeken vloor,
+  An' under stars that slowly wheel'd
+  Aloft, above the keen-air'd vield,
+  While night bedimm'd the rus'len 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' zitten round,
+  The brimvul mug o' cider stood
+  An' hiss'd avore the bleaezen wood;
+  An' zome, a-zitten knee by knee,
+  Did tell their teaeles wi' hearty glee,
+  An' others gamboll'd in a roar
+  O' laughter on the stwonen 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' neaemes
+  That rung there woonce, in evenen geaemes;
+  An' while the swayen cypress bow'd,
+  In chilly wind, his darksome sh'oud
+  An' honeyzuckles, beaere o' leaeves,
+  Still reach'd the window-sheaeden eaves
+  Up where the clematis did trim
+  The stwonen arches mossy rim,
+  The hall, a-hung wi' holly, rung
+  Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young.
+
+  There, in the geaerden's wall-bound square,
+  Hallow'd by times o' strollen there,
+  The winter wind, a-hufflen loud,
+  Did sway the pear-tree's leafless sh'oud,
+  An' beaet the bush that woonce did bear
+  The damask rwose vor Jenny's heaeir;
+  An' there the walk o' peaeven stwone
+  That burn'd below the zummer zun,
+  Struck icy-cwold drough shoes a-wore
+  By maidens vrom the hetted vloor
+  In hall, a-hung wi' holm, where rung
+  Vull many a tongue o' wold an' young.
+
+  There at the geaete that woonce wer blue
+  Hallow'd by times o' passen drough,
+  Light strawmotes rose in flaggen flight,
+  A-floated by the winds o' night,
+  Where leafy ivy-stems did crawl
+  In moonlight on the windblown wall,
+  An' merry maidens' vaices vled
+  In echoes sh'ill, vrom wall to shed,
+  As shiv'ren 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 leaene an' drong
+  Hallow'd by times o' gwain 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 peaele upon her mother's breast,
+  Her waxen eyelids seal'd her eyes
+  Vrom darksome trees, an' sheenen skies,
+  An' halls a-hung wi' holm, that rung
+  Wi' many a tongue, o' wold an' young.
+
+
+
+
+THE WOLD WALL.
+
+
+  Here, Jeaene, we vu'st did meet below
+  The leafy boughs, a-swingen slow,
+  Avore the zun, wi' evenen glow,
+  Above our road, a-beamen red;
+  The grass in zwath wer in the meaeds,
+  The water gleam'd among the reeds
+  In air a-steaelen 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' blushen pride,
+  Where softly-wheelen streams did glide,
+  Drough sheaedes o' poplars at my zide,
+  An' there wi' love that still do live,
+  Your feaece 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 rain do vall,
+  An' wind do beaet ageaen 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.
+
+
+
+
+BLEAeKE'S HOUSE IN BLACKMWORE.
+
+
+  John Bleaeke 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' pay noo rent."
+  An' Meaery gi'ed en her consent.
+  "Do, do,"--the maidens cried
+  "True, true,"--his wife replied.
+  "Done, done,--a house o' brick or stwone,"
+  Cried merry Bleaeke 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 treaedesman cried,
+  "True, true,"--woone mwore replied.
+  "Aye, aye,--good work, an' have good pay,"
+  Cried merry Bleaeke o' Blackmwore.
+
+  The work begun, an' trowels rung,
+  An' up the bricken wall did rise,
+  An' up the slanten refters sprung,
+  Wi' busy blows, an' lusty cries!
+  An' woone brought planks to meaeke 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 weaeste the time,
+  Vor merry Bleaeke o' Blackmwore."
+
+  The house wer up vrom groun' to tun,
+  An' thatch'd ageaen the rainy 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 feaeir,"
+  Cried merry Bleaeke o' Blackmwore.
+
+  Then John he ax'd his friends to warm
+  His house, an' they, a goodish batch,
+  Did come alwone, or eaerm in eaerm,
+  All roads, a-meaeken vor his hatch:
+  An' there below the clavy beam
+  The kettle-spout did zing an' steam;
+  An' there wer ceaekes, an' tea wi' cream.
+  "Lo! lo!"--the women cried;
+  "Ho! ho!"--the men replied;
+  "Health, health,--attend ye wi' your wealth,
+  Good merry Bleaeke o' Blackmwore."
+
+  Then John, a-prais'd, flung up his crown,
+  All back a-laughen in a roar.
+  They prais'd his wife, an' she look'd down
+  A-simperen towards the vloor.
+  Then up they sprung a-dancen reels,
+  An' up went tooes, an' up went heels,
+  A-winden roun' in knots an' wheels.
+  "Brisk, brisk,"--the maidens cried;
+  "Frisk, frisk,"--the men replied;
+  "Quick, quick,--there wi' your fiddle-stick,"
+  Cried merry Bleaeke o' Blackmwore.
+
+  An' when the morrow's zun did sheen,
+  John Bleaeke beheld, wi' jay an' pride,
+  His bricken house, an' pworch, an' green,
+  Above the Stour's rushy zide.
+  The zwallows left the lwonesome groves,
+  To build below the thatchen 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 Bleaeke o' Blackmwore.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN BLEAeKE AT HWOME AT NIGHT.
+
+
+  No: where the woak do overspread,
+  The grass begloom'd below his head,
+  An' water, under bowen zedge,
+  A-springen 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 sheaedes, the clear-feaeced pool,
+  My chimny smoke, 'ithin the lew
+  O' trees is there arisen blue;
+  Avore the night do dim our zight,
+  Or candle-light, a-sheenen 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'ren on the chilly land;
+  The while the zun, wi' zetten rim,
+  Do leaeve the workman's pathway dim;
+  An' sweet-breath'd childern's hangen 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-sparklen drough the window.
+
+  If winter's whistlen winds do vreeze
+  The snow a-gather'd on the trees,
+  An' sheaedes o' poplar stems do vall
+  In moonlight up athirt the wall;
+  An' icicles do hang below
+  The oves, a-glitt'ren in a row,
+  An' risen stars do slowly ride
+  Above the ruf's upslanten 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-beamen drough the window.
+
+
+
+
+MILKEN TIME.
+
+
+  'Twer when the busy birds did vlee,
+  Wi' sheenen wings, vrom tree to tree,
+  To build upon the mossy lim',
+  Their hollow nestes' rounded rim;
+  The while the zun, a-zinken low,
+  Did roll along his evenen 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 pails
+  Wi' heaeiry tufts o' swingen tails;
+  An' there wer Jenny Coom a-gone
+  Along the path a vew steps on.
+  A-beaeren on her head, upstraight,
+  Her pail, wi' slowly-riden waight,
+  An' hoops a-sheenen, lily-white,
+  Ageaen the evenen's slanten light;
+  An' zo I took her pail, an' left
+  Her neck a-freed vrom all his heft;
+  An' she a-looken up an' down,
+  Wi' sheaepely head an' glossy crown,
+  Then took my zide, an' kept my peaece
+  A-talken on wi' smilen feaece,
+  An' zetten things in sich a light,
+  I'd fain ha' heaer'd her talk all night;
+  An' when I brought her milk avore
+  The geaete, she took it in to door,
+  An' if her pail 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 leaeve 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 rizen stars,
+  The dark'nen day mid leaeve behind
+  Woone tongue that I shall always vind,
+  A-whisperen 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' leaeve behind
+  An' hour to stroll along the gleaedes,
+  Where night do drown the beeches' sheaedes,
+  On grasses' bleaedes, when birds be still.
+
+  Vor when the night do lull the sound
+  O' cows a-bleaeren out in ground,
+  The sh'ill-vaic'd dog do stan' an' bark
+  'Ithin the dark, bezide the road;
+  An' when noo cracklen waggon's lwoad
+  Is in the leaene, the wind do bring
+  The merry peals that bells do ring
+  O ding-dong-ding, when birds be still.
+
+  Zoo teaeke, vor me, the town a-drown'd,
+  'Ithin a storm o' rumblen sound,
+  An' gi'e me vaices that do speak
+  So soft an' meek, to souls alwone;
+  The brook a-gurglen round a stwone,
+  An' birds o' day a-zingen clear,
+  An' leaves, that I mid zit an' hear
+  A-rustlen near, when birds be still.
+
+
+
+
+RIDEN HWOME AT NIGHT.
+
+
+  Oh! no, I quite injay'd the ride
+    Behind wold Dobbin's heavy heels,
+  Wi' Jeaene a-prattlen at my zide,
+    Above our peaeir o' spinnen wheels,
+  As grey-rin'd ashes' swayen tops
+  Did creak in moonlight in the copse,
+  Above the quiv'ren grass, a-beaet
+  By wind a-blowen drough the geaet.
+
+  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-waiten vor the zun to rise,
+  Ha' too much love to let em know
+  The ling'ren 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' eaerms a-spread;
+  An' foam o' water, round a rock,
+  Wer then a drownen leaedy's frock.
+
+  Zome staddle stwones to bear a mow,
+    Wer dancen veaeries on the lag;
+  An' then a snow-white sheeted cow
+    Could only be, she thought, their flag,
+  An owl a-vleen drough the wood
+  Wer men on watch vor little good;
+  An' geaetes 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'ren dew;
+  An' brooks that gleam'd below the light,
+    An' dim vield paths 'ithout a shoe.
+  An' gaily talk'd bezide my ears,
+  A-laughen 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 heaesten'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 ageaen her breast,
+  A-smilen 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-slighten, work-vorgetten.
+      Gambol'd wi' the zun a-zetten.
+
+  There, by flow'ry bows o' bramble,
+    Under hedge, in ash-tree sheaedes,
+  The dun-heair'd ho'se did slowly ramble
+    On the grasses' dewy bleaedes,
+      Zet free o' lwoads,
+      An' stwony rwoads,
+      Vorgetvul o' the lashes fretten,
+      Grazen wi' the zun a-zetten.
+
+  There wer rooks a-beaeten by us
+    Drough the air, in a vlock,
+  An' there the lively blackbird, nigh us,
+    On the meaeple bough did rock,
+      Wi' ringen droat,
+      Where zunlight smote
+      The yollow boughs o' zunny hedges
+      Over western hills' blue edges.
+
+  Waters, drough the meaeds a-purlen,
+    Glissen'd in the evenen's light,
+  An' smoke, above the town a-curlen,
+    Melted slowly out o' zight;
+      An' there, in glooms
+      Ov unzunn'd rooms,
+      To zome, wi' idle sorrows fretten,
+      Zuns did set avore their zetten.
+
+  We were out in geaemes and reaeces,
+    Loud a-laughen, wild in me'th,
+  Wi' windblown heaeir, an' zunbrown'd feaeces,
+    Leaepen on the high-sky'd e'th,
+      Avore the lights
+      Wer tin'd o' nights,
+      An' while the gossamer's light netten
+      Sparkled to the zun a-zetten.
+
+
+
+
+SPRING.
+
+
+  Now the zunny air's a-blowen
+  Softly over flowers a-growen;
+  An' the sparklen light do quiver
+  On the ivy-bough an' river;
+  Bleaeten lambs, wi' woolly feaeces,
+  Now do play, a-runnen reaeces;
+        An' the springen
+        Lark's a-zingen,
+  Lik' a dot avore the cloud,
+  High above the ashes sh'oud.
+
+  Housen, 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'ren 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 vier, leaetely needvul,
+  Over grass o' slopen leaezes,
+  Zingen zongs in zunny breezes;
+  Out to work in copse, a-mooten,
+  Where the primrwose is a-shooten,
+        An in gladness,
+        Free o' sadness,
+  In the warmth o' Spring vorget
+  Leafless winter's cwold an' wet.
+
+
+
+
+THE ZUMMER HEDGE.
+
+
+  As light do gleaere in ev'ry ground,
+  Wi' boughy hedges out a-round
+  A-climmen up the slopen brows
+  O' hills, in rows o' sheaedy 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 sheaede, 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 dazzlen flow'rs,
+  The while the climmen zun ha' glow'd
+  Drough mwore than half his daily road:
+  Then where the sheaedes 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 sheaede, or warm's the lewth,
+  Bezide a zummer hedge in blooth.
+
+  But oh! below woone hedge's zide
+  Our jay 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' rain do vall, an' zuns do burn,
+  An' each in season, and in turn,
+  To cool the sheaede or warm the lewth
+  Ov our own zummer hedge in blooth.
+
+  How soft do sheaeke 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' feaeir the flow'rs do bloom, to feaede
+  Behind the swayen mower's bleaede;
+  An' sweet be merry looks o' jay,
+  By weaeles an' pooks o' June's new hay,
+  Wi' smilen age, an laughen youth,
+  Bezide the zummer hedge in blooth.
+
+
+
+
+THE WATER CROWVOOT.
+
+
+  O' small-feaec'd flow'r that now dost bloom
+  To stud wi' white the shallow Frome,
+  An' leaeve the clote to spread his flow'r
+  On darksome pools o' stwoneless Stour,
+  When sof'ly-rizen airs do cool
+  The water in the sheenen pool,
+  Thy beds o' snow-white buds do gleam
+  So feaeir upon the sky-blue stream,
+  As whitest clouds, a-hangen high
+  Avore the blueness o' the sky;
+  An' there, at hand, the thin-heaeir'd cows,
+  In airy sheaedes o' withy boughs,
+  Or up bezide the mossy rails,
+  Do stan' an' zwing their heavy tails,
+  The while the ripplen stream do flow
+  Below the dousty bridge's bow;
+  An' quiv'ren water-gleams do mock
+  The weaeves, upon the sheaeded rock;
+  An' up athirt the copen stwone
+  The laitren bwoy do leaen alwone,
+  A-watchen, wi' a stedvast look,
+  The vallen waters in the brook,
+  The while the zand o' time do run
+  An' leaeve his errand still undone.
+  An' oh! as long's thy buds would gleam
+  Above the softly-sliden stream,
+  While sparklen zummer-brooks do run
+  Below the lofty-climen zun,
+  I only wish that thou could'st stay
+  Vor noo man's harm, an' all men's jay.
+  But no, the waterman 'ull weaede
+  Thy water wi' his deadly bleaede,
+  To slay thee even in thy bloom,
+  Fair small-feaeced flower o' the Frome.
+
+
+
+
+THE LILAC.
+
+
+  Dear lilac-tree, a-spreaden 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 sheaere wi' thee
+  Thy open air, my bloomen tree,
+  Or zee thy blossoms vrom the gloom,
+  'Ithin my zunless worken-room,
+  My heart do leaep, but leaep wi' sighs,
+  At zight o' thee avore my eyes,
+  For when thy grey-blue head do sway
+  In cloudless light, 'tis Spring, 'tis May.
+
+  'Tis Spring, 'tis May, as May woonce shed
+  His glowen light above thy head--
+  When thy green boughs, wi' bloomy tips,
+  Did sheaede my childern's laughen lips;
+  A-screenen vrom the noonday gleaere
+  Their rwosy cheaeks an' glossy heaeir;
+  The while their mother's needle sped,
+  Too quick vor zight, the snow-white thread,
+  Unless her han', wi' loven ceaere,
+  Did smooth their little heads o' heaeir;
+
+  Or wi' a sheaeke, tie up anew
+  Vor zome wild voot, a slippen shoe;
+  An' I did leaen bezide thy mound
+  Ageaen the deaesy-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-ringen 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 spray,
+  Drough all the days o' zunny May.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLACKBIRD.
+
+
+  'Twer out at Penley I'd a-past
+  A zummer day that went too vast,
+  An' when the zetten 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 sheaedes o' darksome yews,
+  Did vlee the maidens on their tooes,
+  A-laughen sh'ill wi' merry feaece
+  When we did vind their hiden pleaece.
+  'Ithin the loose-bough'd ivys gloom,
+  Or lofty lilac, vull in bloom,
+  Or hazzle-wrides that gi'ed em room
+  Below the zingen blackbird.
+
+  Above our heads the rooks did vlee
+  To reach their nested elem-tree,
+  An' splashen vish did rise to catch
+  The wheelen gnots above the hatch;
+  An' there the miller went along,
+  A-smilen, up the sheaedy drong,
+  But yeet too deaf to hear the zong
+  A-zung us by the blackbird.
+
+  An' there the sh'illy-bubblen brook
+  Did leaeve behind his rocky nook,
+  To run drough meaeds a-chill'd wi' dew,
+  Vrom hour to hour the whole night drough;
+  But still his murmurs wer a-drown'd
+  By vaices that mid never sound
+  Ageaen together on that ground,
+  Wi' whislens o' the blackbird.
+
+
+
+
+THE SLANTEN LIGHT O' FALL.
+
+
+  Ah! Jeaene, my maid, I stood to you,
+    When you wer christen'd, small an' light,
+  Wi' tiny eaerms o' red an' blue,
+    A-hangen in your robe o' white.
+  We brought ye to the hallow'd stwone,
+  Vor Christ to teaeke ye vor his own,
+  When harvest work wer all a-done,
+  An' time brought round October zun--
+      The slanten 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 smilen mother's eaerms.
+  The whindlen grass did quiver light,
+  Among the stubble, feaeded white,
+  An' if at times the zunlight broke
+  Upon the ground, or on the vo'k,
+      'Twer slanten light o' Fall.
+
+  An' when we brought ye drough the door
+    O' Knapton Church, a child o' greaece,
+  There cluster'd round a'most a score
+    O' vo'k to zee your tiny feaece.
+  An' there we all did veel so proud,
+  To zee an' op'nen in the cloud,
+  An' then a stream o' light break drough,
+  A-sheenen brightly down on you--
+      The slanten light o' Fall.
+
+  But now your time's a-come to stand
+    In church, a-blushen at my zide,
+  The while a bridegroom vrom my hand
+    Ha' took ye vor his faithvul bride.
+  Your christen neaeme we gi'd ye here,
+  When Fall did cool the weaesten year;
+  An' now, ageaen, we brought ye drough
+  The doorway, wi' your surneaeme new,
+      In slanten light o' Fall.
+
+  An' zoo vur, Jeaene, your life is feaeir,
+    An' God ha' been your steadvast friend,
+  An' mid ye have mwore jay than ceaere,
+    Vor ever, till your journey's end.
+  An' I've a-watch'd ye on wi' pride,
+  But now I soon mus' leaeve your zide,
+  Vor you ha' still life's spring-tide zun,
+  But my life, Jeaene, is now a-run
+    To slanten light o' Fall.
+
+
+
+
+THISSLEDOWN.
+
+
+  The thissledown by wind's a-roll'd
+    In Fall along the zunny plain,
+  Did catch the grass, but lose its hold,
+    Or cling to bennets, but in vain.
+
+  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-bescreenen ledge.
+
+  The plain 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 beaer my peaert,
+    Ov all the trials vo'k do rue,
+  Than have a deadness o' the heart,
+    Wi' nothen mwore to veel or do.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAY-TREE.
+
+
+  I've a-come by the May-tree all times o' the year,
+          When leaves wer a-springen,
+          When vrost wer a-stingen,
+  When cool-winded mornen did show the hills clear,
+  When night wer bedimmen the vields vur an' near.
+
+  When, in zummer, his head wer as white as a sheet,
+          Wi' white buds a-zwellen,
+          An' blossom, sweet-smellen,
+  While leaves wi' green leaves on his bough-zides did meet,
+  A-sheaeden the deaeisies down under our veet.
+
+  When the zun, in the Fall, wer a-wanderen wan,
+          An' haws on his head
+          Did sprinkle en red,
+  Or bright drops o' rain 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 feaece o' the water below,
+  His limbs wer a-fringed wi' the vrost or the snow.
+
+
+
+
+LYDLINCH BELLS.
+
+
+  When skies wer peaele wi' twinklen stars,
+  An' whislen air a-risen keen;
+  An' birds did leaeve 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-ringen changes up in tow'r;
+  Vor Lydlinch bells be good vor sound,
+  An' liked by all the naighbours round.
+
+  An' while along the leafless boughs
+  O' ruslen hedges, win's did pass,
+  An' orts ov hay, a-left by cows,
+  Did russle on the vrozen grass,
+  An' maidens' pails, wi' all their work
+  A-done, did hang upon their vurk,
+  An' they, avore the fleaemen brand,
+  Did teaeke their needle-work in hand,
+  The men did cheer their heart an hour
+  A-ringen changes up in tow'r;
+  Vor Lydlinch bells be good vor sound,
+  An' liked by all the naighbours round.
+
+  There sons did pull the bells that rung
+  Their mothers' wedden peals avore,
+  The while their fathers led em young
+  An' blushen vrom the churches door,
+  An' still did cheem, wi' happy sound,
+  As time did bring the Zundays round,
+  An' call em to the holy pleaece
+  Vor heav'nly gifts o' peace an' greaece;
+  An' vo'k did come, a-streamen slow
+  Along below the trees in row,
+  While they, in merry peals, did sound
+  The bells vor all the naighbours round.
+
+  An' when the bells, wi' changen peal,
+  Did smite their own vo'ks window-peaenes,
+  Their sof'en'd sound did often steal
+  Wi' west winds drough the Bagber leaenes;
+  Or, as the win' did shift, mid goo
+  Where woody Stock do nessle lew,
+  Or where the risen moon did light
+  The walls o' Thornhill on the height;
+  An' zoo, whatever time mid bring
+  To meaeke their vive clear vaices zing,
+  Still Lydlinch bells wer good vor sound,
+  An' liked by all the naighbours round.
+
+
+
+
+THE STAGE COACH.
+
+
+  Ah! when the wold vo'k went abroad
+    They thought it vast enough,
+  If vow'r good ho'ses beaet 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 rails 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 teaeke en up or down:
+      While the reins vell slack
+      On the ho'ses' back,
+  Till the wheels did rottle round ageaen;
+          Till the wheels did rottle round.
+
+  An' there, when wintry win' did blow,
+    Athirt the plain an' hill,
+  An' the zun wer peaele 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 rumblen coach did pass
+    Where hufflen winds did roar,
+  They'd stop to teaeke a warmen 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' gaily 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 pleaeces 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 droopen flowers drough the day,
+  As I did beaet the dousty road
+    Vrom hinder hills, a-feaeden 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 winden road do guide
+    The thirsty vootman where mid flow
+  The water vrom a rock bezide
+    His vootsteps, in a sheenen bow;
+    The hand a-hollow'd up
+    Do beaet a goolden cup,
+  To catch an' drink it, bright an' cool,
+  A-vallen light 'ithin the pool.
+
+  Zoo when, at last, I hung my head
+    Wi' thirsty lips a-burnen dry,
+  I come bezide a river-bed
+    Where water flow'd so blue's the sky;
+    An' there I meaede me up
+    O' coltsvoot leaf a cup,
+  Where water vrom his lip o' gray,
+  Wer sweet to sip thik burnen day.
+
+  But when our work is right, a jay
+    Do come to bless us in its train,
+  An' hardships ha' zome good to pay
+    The thoughtvul soul vor all their paein:
+    The het do sweeten sheaede,
+    An' weary lim's ha' meaede
+  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 sway
+    In sheaedes o' lim's above em still,
+    An' blue sky show'd between
+    The flutt'ren leaeves o' green;
+  I woulden gi'e that gloom an' sheaede
+  Vor any room that weaelth ha' meaede.
+
+  But oh! that vo'k that have the roads
+    Where weary-vooted souls do pass,
+  Would leaeve 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 deaeisy-heads.
+
+
+
+
+THE LEANE.
+
+
+  They do zay that a travellen chap
+    Have a-put in the newspeaeper 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 leaeve a green spot where a flower can grow,
+    Or a voot-weary walker mid rest.
+  Tis hedge-grubben, Thomas, an' ledge-grubben,
+        Never a-done
+  While a sov'ren 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 leaeve sich a thin strip o' groun',
+    That, if a man's veet in his shoes
+  Wer a-burnen an' zore, why he coulden zit down
+    But the wheels would run over his tooes.
+  Vor 'tis meaeke money, Thomas, an' teaeke money,
+        What's zwold an' bought
+  Is all that is worthy o' thought.
+
+  Years agoo the leaene-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 goslens do creep vrom the agg,
+  They must mwope in the geaerden, 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;
+  Meaeke money wherever you can.
+
+  The childern wull soon have noo pleaece
+    Vor to play in, an' if they do grow,
+  They wull have a thin musheroom feaece,
+    Wi' their bodies so sumple as dough.
+  But a man is a-meaede ov a child,
+    An' his limbs do grow worksome by play;
+  An' if the young child's little body's a-spweil'd,
+    Why, the man's wull the sooner decay.
+  But wealth is wo'th now mwore than health is wo'th;
+        Let it all goo,
+  If't 'ull bring but a sov'ren or two.
+
+  Vor to breed the young fox or the heaere,
+    We can gi'e up whole eaecres 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 locken up, Thomas, an' blocken up,
+        Stranger or brother,
+  Men mussen come nigh woone another.
+
+  Woone day I went in at a geaete,
+    Wi' my child, where an echo did sound,
+  An' the owner come up, an' did reaete
+    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 geaete
+    I did rub roun' the eye on the hook.
+  But 'tis dreven out, Thomas, an' heven out.
+        Trample noo grounds,
+  Unless you be after the hounds.
+
+  Ah! the Squier o' Culver-dell Hall
+    Wer as diff'rent as light is vrom dark,
+  Wi' zome vo'k that, as evenen 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 rails, a stage or two,
+  An' while the heavy wheels did spin
+  An' rottle, wi' a deafnen din,
+  In clouds o' steam, the zweepen train
+  Did shoot along the hill-bound plain,
+  As sheaedes o' birds in flight, do pass
+  Below em on the zunny grass.
+  An' as I zot, an' look'd abrode
+  On leaenen land an' winden 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, beholden vrom above
+  Our lowly road, wi' yearnen 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 train,
+  A-riden on athirt the plain,
+  A-cleaeren swifter than a hound,
+  On twin-laid rails, the zwimmen 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' feaeir be sought,
+  In word or deed, or heart or thought,
+  An' all the rest wheel round it.
+
+
+
+
+SEATS.
+
+
+  When starbright maidens 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 feaeir;
+  But we, in zun-dried vield an' wood,
+    Ha' seats as good's a goolden chair.
+
+  Vor here, 'ithin the woody drong,
+    A ribbed elem-stem do lie,
+  A-vell'd in Spring, an' stratch'd along
+    A bed o' graegles up knee-high,
+  A sheaedy seat to rest, an' let
+    The burnen het o' noon goo by.
+
+  Or if you'd look, wi' wider scope,
+    Out where the gray-tree'd plain do spread,
+  The ash bezide the zunny slope,
+    Do sheaede a cool-air'd deaeisy bed,
+  An' grassy seat, wi' spreaden eaves
+    O' rus'len leaves, above your head.
+
+  An' there the train mid come in zight,
+    Too vur to hear a-rollen by,
+  A-breathen quick, in heaesty flight,
+    His breath o' tweil, avore the sky,
+  The while the waggon, wi' his lwoad,
+    Do crawl the rwoad a-winden nigh.
+
+  Or now theaese happy holiday
+    Do let vo'k rest their weaery lim's,
+  An' lwoaded hay's a-hangen gray,
+    Above the waggon-wheels' dry rims,
+  The meaed ha' seats in weaeles or pooks,
+    By winden brooks, wi' crumblen brims.
+
+  Or if you'd gi'e your thoughtvul mind
+    To yonder long-vorseaeken hall,
+  Then teaeke a stwonen 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 theaese lawn;
+  Not where pent air 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 benden rush, or sheenen zedge,
+    Or sounds o' flowen water.
+
+  The air that I've a-breath'd did sheaeke
+  The draps o' rain upon the breaeke,
+  An' bear aloft the swingen 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' nightingeaeles.
+    An' sounds o' flowen water.
+
+  An' when the zun, wi' vi'ry rim,
+  'S a-zinken low, an' wearen dim,
+  Here I, a-most too tired to stand,
+  Do leaeve my work that's under hand
+  In pathless wood or oben land,
+  To rest 'ithin my thatchen oves,
+  Wi' ruslen win's in leafy groves,
+    An' sounds o' flowen water.
+
+
+
+
+TREES BE COMPANY.
+
+
+  When zummer's burnen het's a-shed
+  Upon the droopen grasses head,
+  A-dreven under sheaedy 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' air 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-reachen into blue
+  Than roads a-winden in the glen,
+  An' ringen 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' sheaedes o' stems do overstratch
+  The mossy path 'ithin the hatch;
+  If leaves be bright up over head,
+    When May do shed its glitt'ren 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 feaece we long'd to greet
+    Could come to meet our lwonesome treaece
+  Or if noo peaece o' weary veet,
+    However fleet, could reach its pleaece--
+      However lwonesome we mid be,
+     The trees would still be company.
+
+
+
+
+A PLEAeCE 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 teaeke my zight
+  Vrom dawn till night, the mwost ov all.
+
+  An' there, in May, 'ithin the lewth
+  O' boughs in blooth, be sheaedy walks,
+  An' cowslips up in yollow beds
+  Do hang their heads on downy stalks;
+  An' if the weather should be feaeir
+  When I've a holiday to speaere,
+  I'll teaeke the chance o' getten 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 meaeke out the high-bough'd grove
+  An' narrow drove by Redcliff ground;
+  An' there by trees a-risen tall,
+  The glowen zunlight now do vall,
+  Wi' shortest sheaedes o' middle day,
+  Upon the gray wold house's wall.
+
+  An' I can zee avore the sky
+  A-risen 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' Jeaene 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' hangen vetterlocks
+  A-sheaeken roun' his heavy hocks,
+  An' us, a lwoad not much too small,
+  A-riden 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 rollen winds athirt the ground;
+  While sheenen-ribbons' color'd streaeks
+  Did flutter roun' the maidens' cheaeks,
+  As they did zit, wi' smilen lips,
+  A-reachen out their vinger-tips
+  Toward zome teaeken pleaece or zight
+  That they did shew us, left or right;
+  An' woonce, when Jimmy tried to pleaece
+  A kiss on cousin Polly's feaece,
+  She push'd his hat, wi' wicked leers,
+  Right off above his two red ears,
+  An' there he roll'd along the groun'
+  Wi' spreaden brim an' rounded crown,
+  An' vound, at last, a cowpon's brim,
+  An' launch'd hizzelf, to teaeke a zwim;
+  An' there, as Jim did run to catch
+  His neaeked noddle's bit o' thatch,
+  To zee his strainens 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 stwonen tun
+  Avore the dazzlen mornen zun,
+  Wer still the rollen 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 meaete an' he bwoth died,
+  Wi' hand in hand, an' zide by zide;
+  Between the seaeme 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 ageaen below
+  A mother's love, or father's ho:
+  Dree little maidens, small in feaece,
+  An' woone small bwoy, the fourth in pleaece
+  Zoo when their heedvul father died,
+  He call'd his brother to his zide,
+  To meaeke 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 weaested 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-rottlen on, an' meaede
+  Our way along to Brookwell Sleaede;
+  An' then we vound ourselves draw nigh
+  The Leaedy's Tow'r that rose on high,
+  An' seem'd a-comen on to meet,
+  Wi' growen height, wold Dobbin's veet.
+
+
+
+
+BROOKWELL.
+
+
+  Well, I do zay 'tis wo'th woone's while
+  To beaet the doust a good six mile
+  To zee the pleaece the squier plann'd
+  At Brookwell, now a-meaede by hand;
+  Wi' oben lawn, an' grove, an' pon',
+  An' gravel-walks as cleaen as bron;
+  An' grass a'most so soft to tread
+  As velvet-pile o' silken thread;
+  An' mounds wi' maesh, an' rocks wi' flow'rs,
+  An' ivy-sheaeded zummer bow'rs,
+  An' dribblen water down below
+  The stwonen arches lofty bow.
+  An' there do sound the watervall
+  Below a cavern's maeshy wall,
+  Where peaele-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 zitten all alwone,
+  A little maid o' marble stwone
+  Do leaen her little cheaek azide
+  Upon her lily han', an' bide
+  Bezide the vallen stream to zee
+  Her pitcher vill'd avore her knee.
+  An' then the brook, a-rollen dark
+  Below a leaenen yew-tree's bark,
+  Wi' playsome ripples that do run
+  A-flashen to the western zun,
+  Do shoot, at last, wi' foamy shocks,
+  Athirt a ledge o' craggy rocks,
+  A-casten in his heaesty flight,
+  Upon the stwones a robe o' white;
+  An' then ageaen do goo an' vall
+  Below a bridge's arched wall,
+  Where vo'k agwain 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-pweinten to the stream
+  His little vinger-tip, do seem
+  A-showen to his playmeaetes' eyes,
+  Where he do zee the vishes rise;
+  An' woone ageaen, wi' smilen 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-holden back his pretty hand
+  Behind his little ear, to drow
+  A stwone upon the stream below.
+  An' then the housen, that be all
+  Sich pretty hwomes, vrom big to small,
+  A-looken south, do cluster round
+  A zunny ledge o' risen ground,
+  Avore a wood, a-nestled warm,
+  In lewth ageaen the northern storm,
+  Where smoke, a-wreathen blue, do spread
+  Above the tuns o' dusky red,
+  An' window-peaenes do glitter bright
+  Wi' burnen streams o' zummer light,
+  Below the vine, a-train'd to hem
+  Their zides 'ithin his leafy stem,
+  An' rangle on, wi' flutt'ren leaves,
+  Below the houses' thatchen eaves.
+  An' drough a lawn a-spread avore
+  The windows, an' the pworched door,
+  A path do wind 'ithin a hatch,
+  A-vasten'd wi' a clicken latch,
+  An' there up over ruf an' tun,
+  Do stan' the smooth-wall'd church o' stwone,
+  Wi' carved windows, thin an' tall,
+  A-reachen up the lofty wall;
+  An' battlements, a-stannen round
+  The tower, ninety veet vrom ground,
+  Vrom where a teaep'ren speer do spring
+  So high's the mornen lark do zing.
+  Zoo I do zay 'tis wo'th woone's while
+  To beaet the doust a good six mile,
+  To zee the pleaece the squier plann'd
+  At Brookwell, now a-meaede by hand.
+
+
+
+
+THE SHY MAN.
+
+
+  Ah! good Meaester 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 maidens a-titt'ren, 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 dazzlen feaeir maid 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 smilen an' kind,
+  Why he wrote her zome lains, 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 stannen 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 air look'd so dim as a smoke.
+
+  Well! he vound a good naighbour to goo in his pleaece
+  Vor to buy the goold ring, vor he hadden the feaece.
+  An' when he went up vor to put in the banns,
+  He did sheaeke in his lags, an' did sheaeke in his han's.
+  Then they ax'd vor her neaeme, an' her parish or town,
+  An' he gi'ed em a leaf, wi' her neaeme 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 feaeir,
+  An' he thought, though his pleaece mid be pleazen to zome,
+  He could all but ha' wish'd that he hadden a-come.
+  The bride wer a-smilen 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 peaert 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 asheaem'd that he thought he would rather
+  He werden the bridegroom, but only the father.
+  But, though 'tis so funny to zee en so shy,
+  Yeet his mind is so lowly, his aims be so high,
+  That to do a meaen 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 pail wer at her veet, O;
+  An' she wer kind, an' she wer feaeir,
+  An' she wer young, an' free o' ceaere;
+  Vew winters had a-blow'd her heaeir,
+    Bezide the Winter's Willow.
+
+  She idden woone a-rear'd in town
+    Where many a gayer lass, O,
+  Do trip a-smilen up an' down,
+    So peaele wi' smoke an' gas, O;
+  But here, in vields o' greaezen herds,
+  Her vaeice ha' mingled sweetest words
+  Wi' evenen cheaerms o' busy birds,
+    Bezide the Winter's Willow.
+
+  An' when, at last, wi' beaeten breast,
+    I knock'd avore her door, O,
+  She ax'd me in to teaeke the best
+    O' pleaeces on the vloor, O;
+  An' smilen feaeir avore my zight,
+  She blush'd bezide the yollow light
+  O' bleaezen brands, while winds o' night
+    Do sheaeke the Winter's Willow.
+
+  An' if there's readship in her smile,
+    She don't begrudge to speaere, 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' rollen 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 milken pail's white hoop,
+  Or zit a-milken where do droop,
+    The wet-stemm'd Winter's Willow.
+
+  An' I've a cow or two in leaeze,
+    Along the river-zide, O,
+  An' pails to zet avore her knees,
+    At dawn an' evenen-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-beaet 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 feaece, though winds did blow
+    Ageaen the Winter's Willow.
+
+
+
+
+I KNOW WHO.
+
+
+  Aye, aye, vull rathe the zun mus' rise
+  To meaeke us tired o' zunny skies,
+  A-sheenen on the whole day drough,
+  From mornen's dawn till evenen's dew.
+  When trees be brown an' meaeds 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' heaerd her zing bezide the cows,
+  By yollow leaves o' meaeple boughs;
+  But Fall or Spring is feaeir to view
+  When day do bring me--I know who.
+
+  An' when, wi' wint'r a-comen roun',
+  The purple he'th's a-feaeden brown,
+  An' hangen vern's a-sheaeken dead,
+  Bezide the hill's besheaeded head:
+  An' black-wing'd rooks do glitter bright
+  Above my head, in peaeler 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 benden 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-sheenen wide, wi' winden brim.
+
+  How feaeir, I thought, avore the sky
+    The slowly-zwimmen clouds do look;
+  How soft the win's a-streamen by;
+    How bright do roll the weaevy brook:
+  When there, a-passen on my right,
+  A-waiken slow, an' treaden light,
+  Young Jessie Lee come by, an' there
+  Took all my ceaere, an' all my zight.
+
+  Vor lovely wer the looks her feaece
+    Held up avore the western sky:
+  An' comely wer the steps her peaece
+    Did meaeke a-walken slowly by:
+  But I went east, wi' beaeten 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 maeshy 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 evenen air, in green-treed Spring,
+  Do sheaeke the new-sprung pa'sley bed,
+  An' wither'd ash-tree keys do swing
+  An' vall a-flutt'ren 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 pleaece
+  Your vaice an' feaece can meaeke vor me.
+
+  Below the budden 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 zetten zun, or moon
+  A-risen, time wull vlee too soon
+  Wi' Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaece
+  Her vaice an' feaece can meaeke vor me.
+
+  Down where the darksome brook do flow,
+  Below the bridge's arched wall,
+  Wi' alders dark, a-leanen low,
+  Above the gloomy watervall;
+  There I've a-led ye hwome at night,
+  Wi' noo feaece else 'ithin my zight
+  But yours so feaeir, an' sweet's the pleaece
+  Your vaice an' feaece ha' meaede me there.
+
+  An' oh! when other years do come,
+  An' zetten zuns, wi' yollow gleaere,
+  Drough western window-peaenes, at hwome,
+  Do light upon my evenen chair:
+  While day do weaene, an' dew do vall,
+  Be wi' me then, or else in call,
+  As time do vlee, vor sweet's the pleaece
+  Your vaice an' feaece do meaeke vor me.
+
+  Ah! you do smile, a-thinken light
+  O' my true words, but never mind;
+  Smile on, smile on, but still your flight
+  Would leaeve me little jay behind:
+  But let me not be zoo a-tried
+  Wi' you a-lost where I do bide,
+  O Jessie Lee, in any pleaece
+  Your vaice an' feaece ha' blest vor me.
+
+  I'm sure that when a soul's a-brought
+  To this our life ov air 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 pleaece
+  Her vaice an' feace can meaeke vor me.
+
+
+
+
+THE BEAN VIELD.
+
+
+  'Twer where the zun did warm the lewth,
+  An' win' did whiver in the sheaede,
+  The sweet-air'd beaens were out in blooth,
+  Down there 'ithin the elem gleaede;
+  A yollow-banded bee did come,
+  An' softly-pitch, wi' hushen hum,
+  Upon a beaen, an' there did sip,
+  Upon a swayen 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 meaester then come by wi' pride,
+  To zee the beaens that he'd a-got;
+  An' as he zot upon his ho'se,
+  The ho'se ageaen 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 seaeme's the bee,
+  "Theaese beaens be all a-zent vor me."
+
+  Zoo let the worold's riches breed
+  A strife o' claims, 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' maidens, 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 passen on,
+  'Tis here to-day, to-morrow gone.
+  But there's a blessen 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' gay do rise my happy soul,
+  An' well they mid, vor here our veet
+  Avore woone vier ageaen do meet;
+  Vor you've avoun' my feaece, to greet
+  Wi' welcome words my startlen 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 feaece woonce mwore
+  Ha' brought us vrom another shore.
+  An' I'll heave on a brand avore
+  The vier back, to meaeke good cheer,
+  O' roaren fleaemes, 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 leaeve 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 twinklen eyes,
+  An' elbows down upon his thighs.
+  A-chucklen low, wi' merry grin.
+  Though time ha' roughen'd up his chin,
+  'Tis still the seaeme true soul 'ithin,
+  As woonce I know'd, when year by year,
+  Thik very chap, thik John o' Weer,
+  Did play 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 purren cat,
+  But leaep 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 loven 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 resten rim wer dry,
+  An' houn's held up their evenen 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 gay, 'tis true, but gay an' wise,
+  An' laugh'd in light o' maiden'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 playsome team,
+  All brought us gwaein so vur's the stream.
+  But Jeaene, that there, below a gleam
+  O' light, watch'd woone o's out o' zight;
+  Vor willenly, 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' slopen knaps a-screen'd around,
+  Rose dim 'ithout a breath o' sound,
+  The wold abode o' squiers a-gone,
+  Though while they lay a-sleepen on,
+  Their stars wer still awake, John.
+
+
+
+
+IVY HALL.
+
+
+  If I've a-stream'd below a storm,
+    An' not a-velt the rain,
+  An' if I ever velt me warm,
+    In snow upon the plain,
+  'Twer when, as evenen skies wer dim,
+  An' vields below my eyes wer dim,
+  I went alwone at evenen-fall,
+  Athirt the vields to Ivy Hall.
+
+  I voun' the wind upon the hill,
+    Last night, a-roaren loud,
+  An' rubben boughs a-creaken sh'ill
+    Upon the ashes' sh'oud;
+  But oh! the reelen copse mid groan;
+  An' timber's lofty tops mid groan;
+  The hufflen winds be music all,
+  Bezide my road to Ivy Hall.
+
+  A sheaedy grove o' ribbed woaks,
+    Is Wootton's shelter'd nest,
+  An' woaks do keep the winter's strokes
+    Vrom Knapton's evenen rest.
+  An' woaks ageaen wi' bossy stems,
+  An' elems wi' their mossy stems,
+  Do rise to screen the leafy wall
+  An' stwonen 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 jay ov heart,
+  An' storms do meaeke me gay ov heart,
+  When I do rest, at evenen-fall,
+  Bezide the he'th ov Ivy Hall.
+
+  There leafy stems do clim' around
+    The mossy stwonen eaves;
+  An' there be window-zides a-bound
+    Wi' quiv'ren ivy-leaves.
+  But though the sky is dim 'ithout,
+  An' feaeces mid be grim 'ithout,
+  Still I ha' smiles when I do call,
+  At evenen-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 theaese wheel-barrow here." Zoo I wer blind-like
+  To what he had a-worken in his mind-like,
+  An' mounted vor a passenger inside;
+  An' comen to a puddle, perty wide,
+  He tipp'd me in, a-grinnen back behind-like.
+  Zoo when a man do come to me so thick-like,
+  An' sheaeke my hand, where woonce he pass'd me by,
+  An' tell me he would do me this or that,
+  I can't help thinken 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;
+  Teaeke 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 feaeir,
+    Vor to pat en so soft on the feaece,
+  To mend ev'ry stitch that do tear,
+    An' keep ev'ry button in pleaece?
+      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 eaerms 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 meeten o' me'th
+    Each husban' do leaed hwome his bride,
+  Then he do slink hwome to his he'th,
+    Wi' his eaerm a-hung down his cwold zide.
+      Slinken on! blinken on! thinken on!
+            Gloomy an' glum;
+      Nothen but dullness to come.
+
+  An' when he do onlock his door,
+    Do rumble as hollow's a drum,
+  An' the veaeries 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' sheaeke up his pillor anew.
+      Ills to come! pills to come! bills to come!
+            Noo soul to sheaere
+      The trials the poor wratch must bear.
+
+
+
+
+MARRIED PEAeIR'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 sheaeke the leaves, but tidden rough.
+  Come, Esther, teaeke, vor wold time's seaeke,
+  Your hooded cloke, that's on the pin,
+  An' wrap up warm, an' teaeke my eaerm,
+  You'll vind it better out than in.
+  Come, Etty dear; come out o' door,
+  An' teaeke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.
+
+  How charmen to our very souls,
+  Wer woonce your evenen maiden strolls,
+  The while the zetten zunlight dyed
+  Wi' red the beeches' western zide,
+  But back avore your vinger wore
+  The wedden ring that's now so thin;
+  An' you did sheaere a mother's ceaere,
+  To watch an' call ye eaerly in.
+  Come, Etty dear; come out o' door,
+  An' teaeke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.
+
+  An' then ageaen, when you could slight
+  The clock a-striken leaete at night,
+  The while the moon, wi' risen 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 teaeke ye leaete or eaerly in.
+  Come, Etty dear; come out o' door,
+  An' teaeke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.
+
+  But often when the western zide
+  O' trees did glow at evenen-tide,
+  Or when the leaeter 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 coulden sheaere the pleasure there:
+  Your work or childern kept ye in.
+  Come, Etty dear, come out o' door,
+  An' teaeke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.
+
+  But ceaeres that zunk your oval chin
+  Ageaen your bosom's lily skin,
+  Vor all they meaede our life so black,
+  Be now a-lost behind our back.
+  Zoo never mwope, in midst of hope,
+  To slight our blessens 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 teaeke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.
+
+
+
+
+A WIFE A-PRAIS'D.
+
+
+  'Twer May, but ev'ry leaf wer dry
+  All day below a sheenen sky;
+  The zun did glow wi' yollow gleaere,
+  An' cowslips blow wi' yollow gleaere,
+  Wi' graegles' bells a-droopen low,
+  An' bremble boughs a-stoopen low;
+  While culvers in the trees did coo
+    Above the vallen dew.
+
+  An' there, wi' heaeir o' glossy black,
+  Bezide your neck an' down your back,
+  You rambled gay a-bloomen feaeir;
+  By boughs o' may a-bloomen feaeir;
+  An' while the birds did twitter nigh,
+  An' water weaeves did glitter nigh,
+  You gather'd cowslips in the lew,
+    Below the vallen dew.
+
+  An' now, while you've a-been my bride
+  As years o' flow'rs ha' bloom'd an' died,
+  Your smilen feaece ha' been my jay;
+  Your soul o' greaece ha' been my jay;
+  An' wi' my evenen rest a-come,
+  An' zunsheen to the west a-come,
+  I'm glad to teaeke my road to you
+    Vrom vields o' vallen dew.
+
+  An' when the rain do wet the may,
+  A-bloomen where we woonce did stray,
+  An' win' do blow along so vast,
+  An' streams do flow along so vast;
+  Ageaen the storms so rough abroad,
+  An' angry tongues so gruff abroad,
+  The love that I do meet vrom you
+    Is lik' the vallen 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 feaece a-smilen on,
+  An' busy hands a-tweilen on,
+  You'll vind zome useful work to do
+    Until the vallen dew.
+
+
+
+
+THE WIFE A-LOST.
+
+
+  Since I noo mwore do zee your feaece,
+    Up steaeirs or down below,
+  I'll zit me in the lwonesome pleaece,
+    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-drippen wet:
+  Below the rain-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 vaice 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 vaice an' feaece
+    In prayer at eventide,
+  I'll pray wi' woone said vaice vor greaece
+    To goo where you do bide;
+  Above the tree an' bough, my love,
+    Where you be gone avore,
+  An' be a-waiten vor me now,
+    To come vor evermwore.
+
+
+
+
+THE THORNS IN THE GEAeTE.
+
+
+  Ah! Meaester Collins overtook
+  Our knot o' vo'k a-stannen 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-playen 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-risen 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-blowen keen,
+  Did gleaere the nearly cloudless sky,
+  An' corn in bleaede, up ancle-high,
+  'lthin the geaete did quiver green;
+  An' in the geaete a-lock'd there stood
+  A prickly row o' thornen wood
+  Vor vo'k vor food had done their best,
+  An' left to Spring to do the rest.
+
+  "The geaete," he cried, "a-seal'd wi' thorn
+  Vrom harmvul veet's a-left to hold
+  The bleaede a-springen vrom the mwold,
+  While God do ripen it to corn.
+  An' zoo in life let us vulvil
+  Whatever is our Meaeker'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-passen onward by the door,
+  A-zent to teaeke our jays, or come
+  To bring us zome--O Meaerianne.
+  Though doors be shut, an' bars be stout,
+  Noo bolted door can keep em out;
+  But they wull leaeve us ev'ry thing
+  They have to bring--My Meaerianne.
+
+  An' zoo the days a-stealen by,
+  Wi' zuns a-riden drough the sky,
+  Do bring us things to leaeve us sad,
+  Or meaeke us glad--O Meaerianne.
+  The day that's mild, the day that's stern,
+  Do teaeke, in stillness, each his turn;
+  An' evils at their worst mid mend,
+  Or even end--My Meaerianne.
+
+  But still, if we can only bear
+  Wi' faith an' love, our pain an' ceaere,
+  We shan't vind missen jays a-lost,
+  Though we be crost--O Meaerianne.
+  But all a-took to heav'n, an' stow'd
+  Where we can't weaeste em on the road,
+  As we do wander to an' fro,
+  Down here below--My Meaerianne.
+
+  But there be jays I'd soonest choose
+  To keep, vrom them that I must lose;
+  Your workzome hands to help my tweil,
+  Your cheerful smile--O Meaerianne.
+  The Zunday bells o' yonder tow'r,
+  The moonlight sheaedes o' my own bow'r,
+  An' rest avore our vier-zide,
+  At evenen-tide--My Meaerianne.
+
+
+
+
+VO'K A-COMEN INTO CHURCH.
+
+
+  The church do zeem a touchen zight,
+    When vo'k, a-comen in at door,
+    Do softly tread the long-ail'd vloor
+  Below the pillar'd arches' height,
+      Wi' bells a-pealen,
+      Vo'k a-kneelen,
+  Hearts a-healen, wi' the love
+  An' peaece a-zent em vrom above.
+
+  An' there, wi' mild an' thoughtvul feaece,
+    Wi' downcast eyes, an' vaices dum',
+    The wold an' young do slowly come,
+  An' teaeke in stillness each his pleaece,
+      A-zinken slowly,
+      Kneelen lowly,
+  Seeken holy thoughts alwone,
+  In pray'r avore their Meaeker's throne.
+
+  An' there be sons in youthvul pride,
+    An' fathers weak wi' years an' pain,
+    An' daughters in their mother's train.
+  The tall wi' smaller at their zide;
+      Heads in murnen
+      Never turnen,
+  Cheaeks a-burnen, 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 vaice is there vor God alwone
+  To flesh an' blood their tongues be tied.
+      Grief a-wringen,
+      Jay a-zingen,
+  Pray'r a-bringen 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 crooked to the river-zide;
+  I thought how wrong the Stour did zeem
+  To roll along his ramblen stream,
+  A-runnen wide the left o' south,
+  To vind his mouth, the right-hand zide.
+
+  But though his stream do teaeke, at mill.
+  An' eastward bend by Newton Hill,
+  An' goo to lay his welcome boon
+  O' daily water round Hammoon,
+  An' then wind off ageaen, 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 way 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 teaeke
+  Wide rambles vor our callens' seaeke,
+  What is, is best, we needen fear,
+  An' we shall steer to happy rest.
+
+
+
+
+GOOD MEAeSTER COLLINS.
+
+
+  Aye, Meaester Collins wer a-blest
+  Wi' greaece, an' now's a-gone to rest;
+  An' though his heart did beaet so meek
+  'S a little child's, when he did speak,
+  The godly wisdom ov his tongue
+  Wer dew o' greaece to wold an' young.
+
+  'Twer woonce, upon a zummer's tide,
+  I zot at Brookwell by his zide,
+  Avore the leaeke, upon the rocks,
+  Above the water's idle shocks,
+  As little playsome weaeves did zwim
+  Ageaen the water's windy brim,
+  Out where the lofty tower o' stwone
+  Did stan' to years o' wind an' zun;
+  An' where the zwellen pillars bore
+  A pworch above the heavy door,
+  Wi' sister sheaedes a-reachen cool
+  Athirt the stwones an' sparklen pool.
+
+  I spoke zome word that meaede en smile,
+  O' girt vo'k's wealth an' poor vo'k's tweil,
+  As if I pin'd, vor want ov greaece,
+  To have a lord's or squier's pleaece.
+  "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' leaest o' cost;--
+  Why, who could live upon the e'th
+  'Ithout God's gift ov air 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 air an' water, an' the light,
+  Be higher gifts, a-reckon'd right,
+  Than all the goold the darksome clay
+  Can ever yield to zunny day:
+  But then the air 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' mornen 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 sway, wi' life or death,
+  Vor helpless childern ov the e'th:
+  Vor theaese ben't gifts, as He do know,
+  That He in love should vu'st bestow;
+  Or else we should have had our sheaere
+  O'm all wi' little tweil or ceaere.
+
+  "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 leaedy an' the squier,
+    At Chris'mas, gather'd girt an' small,
+  Vor me'th, avore their roaren vier,
+    An! roun' their bwoard, 'ithin the hall;
+  An' there, in glitt'ren rows, between
+  The roun'-rimm'd pleaetes, our knives did sheen,
+    Wi' frothy eaele, an' cup an' can,
+    Vor maid 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' meaeke but little show;
+  An' after we'd a-took our seat,
+  An' greaece had been a-zaid vor meat,
+    We zet to work, an' zoo begun
+    Our feaest an' fun at Herrenston.
+
+  An' mothers there, bezide the bwoards,
+    Wi' little childern in their laps,
+  Did stoop, wi' loven looks an' words,
+    An' veed em up wi' bits an' draps;
+  An' smilen 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 praise ov England's beef
+    An' vill'd our hearts wi' English pride;
+  An' leafy chains o' garlands hung,
+  Wi' dazzlen stripes o' flags, that swung
+    Above us, in a bleaeze o' light,
+    Thik happy night, at Herrenston.
+
+  An' then the clerk, avore the vier,
+    Begun to lead, wi' smilen feaece,
+  A carol, wi' the Monkton quire,
+    That rung drough all the crowded pleaece.
+  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' maid stood up by twos,
+    In rows, drough passage, out to door,
+  An' gaily beaet, wi' nimble shoes,
+    A dance upon the stwonen floor.
+  But who is worthy vor to tell,
+  If she that then did bear the bell,
+    Wer woone o' Monkton, or o' Ceaeme,
+    Or zome sweet neaeme ov Herrenston.
+
+  Zoo peace betide the girt vo'k's land,
+    When they can stoop, wi' kindly smile,
+  An' teaeke 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 greaece,
+    A higher pleaece than Herrenston.
+
+
+
+
+OUT AT PLOUGH.
+
+
+  Though cool avore the sheenen sky
+  Do vall the sheaedes below the copse,
+  The timber-trees, a-reachen high,
+  Ha' zunsheen on their lofty tops,
+  Where yonder land's a-lyen plow'd,
+  An' red, below the snow-white cloud,
+  An' vlocks o' pitchen rooks do vwold
+  Their wings to walk upon the mwold.
+      While floods be low,
+      An' buds do grow,
+          An' air do blow, a-broad, O.
+
+  But though the air is cwold below
+  The creaken copses' darksome screen,
+  The truest sheaede do only show
+  How strong the warmer zun do sheen;
+  An' even times o' grief an' pain,
+  Ha' good a-comen in their train,
+  An' 'tis but happiness do mark
+  The sheaedes 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 hangen, in the lew,
+  Wi' vurrows now a-crumblen 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 meaeple wrides.
+      As trees be bright
+      Wi' bees in flight,
+          An' weather's bright, abroad, O.
+
+  An' there, as sheenen 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 gaily ride, an' goo
+  To towns the rwoad mid teaeke 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 feaeir,
+  Below a cloudless sky o' blue,
+  The bwoy at plough do little ceaere
+  How vast the brightest day mid goo;
+  Vor he'd be glad to zee the zun
+  A-zetten, wi' his work a-done,
+  That he, at hwome, mid still injay
+  His happy bit ov evenen play,
+      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' vishen float, that there did zink
+    An' rise, I zot as in a dream.
+  The dazzlen zun did cast his light
+  On hedge-row blossom, snowy white,
+  Though nothen yet did come in zight,
+    A-stirren on the strayen stream;
+
+  Till, out by sheaedy rocks there show'd,
+  A bwoat along his foamy road,
+  Wi' thik feaeir maid at mill, a-row'd
+    Wi' Jeaene behind her brother's oars.
+  An' steaetely as a queen o' vo'k,
+  She zot wi' floaten scarlet cloak,
+  An' comen on, at ev'ry stroke,
+    Between my withy-sheaeded shores.
+
+  The broken stream did idly try
+  To show her sheaepe a-riden 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 beaeten heart a shock,
+    Above my float's up-leapen quill.
+
+  Then, lik' a cloud below the skies,
+  A-drifted off, wi' less'nen size,
+  An' lost, she floated vrom my eyes,
+    Where down below the stream did wind;
+  An' left the quiet weaeves 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 PLEAeCE OUR OWN AGEAeN.
+
+
+  Well! thanks to you, my faithful Jeaene,
+  So worksome wi' your head an' hand,
+  We seaeved enough to get ageaen
+  My poor vorefather's plot o' land.
+  'Twer folly lost, an' cunnen 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-winden round
+  The parrick zide, do run below
+  The grey-stwon'd bridge wi' gurglen sound,
+  A-sheaeded by the arches' bow;
+  Where former days the wold brown meaere,
+  Wi' father on her back, did wear
+  Wi' heavy shoes the grav'ly leaene,
+  An' sheaeke her meaene o' yollor heaeir.
+
+  An' many zummers there ha' glow'd,
+  To shrink the brook in bubblen shoals,
+  An' warm the doust upon the road,
+  Below the trav'ller's burnen zoles.
+  An' zome ha' zent us to our bed
+  In grief, an' zome in jay ha' vled;
+  But vew ha' come wi' happier light
+  Than what's now bright, above our head.
+
+  The brook did peaert, zome years agoo,
+  Our Grenley meaeds vrom Knapton's Ridge
+  But now you know, between the two,
+  A-road's a-meaede 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 gain its end, if 'tis but right.
+
+
+
+
+[Gothic: Eclogue.]
+
+_John an' Thomas._
+
+
+  THOMAS.
+
+  How b'ye, then, John, to-night; an' how
+  Be times a-waggen on w' ye now?
+  I can't help slackenen my peaece
+  When I do come along your pleaece,
+  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 glassen houses' lewth;
+  But if a man can rear a crop
+  Where win' do blow an' rain can drop,
+  Do seem to come, below your hand,
+  As fine as any in the land.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  Well, there, the geaerden stuff an' flow'rs
+  Don't leaeve me many idle hours;
+  But still, though I mid plant or zow,
+  'Tis Woone above do meaeke 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 waigh a pound;
+  An' cabbage wi' its hard white head,
+  An' teaeties in their dousty bed,
+  An' carrots big an' straight enough
+  Vor any show o' geaerden stuff;
+  An' trees ov apples, red-skinn'd balls
+  An' purple plums upon the walls,
+  An' peas an' beaens; bezides a store
+  O' heaerbs vor ev'ry pain an' zore.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  An' over hedge the win's a-heaerd,
+  A ruslen drough my barley's beard;
+  An' swayen 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 miel shoulden stratch
+  Between woone's geaerden 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 geaerden 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-comen on,
+  The red west sky's a-wearen wan;
+  Or while woone's wife, wi' busy hands,
+  Avore her vier o' burnen brands,
+  Do put, as best she can avword,
+  Her bit o' dinner on the bwoard.
+  An' here, when I do teaeke my road,
+  At breakfast-time, agwain 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 reaeke or pull a weed,
+  Or heal young beaens or peas in line,
+  Or tie em up wi' rods an' twine,
+  Or peel a kindly withy white
+  To hold a droopen 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 teaeke em all
+  Beyond their mother's zight an' call,
+  To get a zoaken in a storm,
+  Or vall, i' may be, into harm.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  Ees. Geaerden groun', as I've a-zed,
+  Is better near woone's bwoard an' bed.
+
+
+
+
+PENTRIDGE BY THE RIVER.
+
+
+  Pentridge!--oh! my heart's a-zwellen
+  Vull o' jay wi' vo'k a-tellen
+    Any news o' thik wold pleaece,
+  An' the boughy hedges round it,
+  An' the river that do bound it
+    Wi' his dark but glis'nen feaece.
+  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 sheaede the water still,
+  Where the rushes be a-growen,
+  Where the sullen Stour's a-flowen
+    Drough the meaeds vrom mill to mill?
+  Vor if a tree wer dear to me,
+  Oh! 'twer thik aspen by the river.
+
+  There, in eegrass new a-shooten,
+  I did run on even vooten,
+    Happy, over new-mow'd land;
+  Or did zing wi' zingen drushes
+  While I plaited, 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 vallen,
+  What sh'ill vaice is now a-callen
+    Hwome the deaeiry to the pails;
+  Who do dreve em on, a-flingen
+  Wide-bow'd horns, or slowly zwingen
+    Right an' left their tufty tails?
+  As they do goo a-huddled drough
+  The geaete a-leaeden up vrom river.
+
+  Bleaeded grass is now a-shooten
+  Where the vloor wer woonce our vooten,
+    While the hall wer still in pleaece.
+  Stwones be looser in the wallen;
+  Hollow trees be nearer vallen;
+    Ev'ry thing ha' chang'd its feaece.
+  But still the neaeme do bide the seaeme--
+  'Tis Pentridge--Pentridge by the river.
+
+
+
+
+WHEAT.
+
+
+  In brown-leav'd Fall the wheat a-left
+    'Ithin its darksome bed,
+  Where all the creaken roller's heft
+    Seal'd down its lowly head,
+  Sprung sheaeken drough the crumblen mwold,
+    Green-yollow, vrom below,
+  An' bent its bleaedes, a-glitt'ren 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 screamen bird-bwoy shook
+    Wi' little zun-burnt hand,
+  His clacker at the bright-wing'd rook,
+    About the zeeded land;
+  His meaester there did come an' stop
+    His bridle-champen meaere,
+  Wi' thankvul heart, to zee his crop
+    A-comen up so feaeir.
+        As there awhile
+        By geaete or stile,
+        He gi'ed the chile
+        A cheeren smile,
+  By crowns o' Do'set Downs, O.
+
+  At last, wi' eaers o' darksome red,
+    The yollow stalks did ply,
+  A-swayen slow, so heavy 's lead,
+    In air a-blowen by;
+  An' then the busy reapers laid
+    In row their russlen grips,
+  An' sheaeves, a-leaenen head by head,
+    Did meaeke the stitches tips.
+        Zoo food's a-vound,
+        A-comen 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 meaeres' broad backs,
+  Do ride along the cracklen rwoads,
+    Or dousty waggon-tracks.
+  An' there, mid every busy pick,
+    Ha' work enough to do;
+  An' where, avore, we built woone rick,
+    Mid theaese 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 MEAeD IN JUNE.
+
+
+  Ah! how the looks o' sky an' ground
+  Do change wi' months a-stealen round,
+  When northern winds, by starry night,
+  Do stop in ice the river's flight;
+  Or brooks in winter rains do zwell,
+  Lik' rollen seas athirt the dell;
+  Or trickle thin in zummer-tide;
+  Among the mossy stwones half dried;
+  But still, below the zun or moon,
+  The fearest vield's the meaed in June.
+
+  An' I must own, my heart do beaet
+  Wi' pride avore my own blue geaete,
+  Where I can bid the steaetely tree
+  Be cast, at langth, avore my knee;
+  An' clover red, an' deaezies feair,
+  An' gil'cups wi' their yollow gleaere,
+  Be all a-match'd avore my zight
+  By wheelen buttervlees in flight,
+  The while the burnen zun at noon
+  Do sheen upon my meaed in June.
+
+  An' there do zing the swingen lark
+  So gay's above the finest park,
+  An' day do sheaede my trees as true
+  As any steaetely avenue;
+  An' show'ry clouds o' Spring do pass
+  To shed their rain on my young grass,
+  An' air do blow the whole day long,
+  To bring me breath, an' teaeke my zong,
+  An' I do miss noo needvul boon
+  A-gi'ed to other meaeds in June.
+
+  An' when the bloomen rwose do ride
+  Upon the boughy hedge's zide,
+  We haymeaekers, in snow-white sleeves,
+  Do work in sheaedes o' quiv'ren leaves,
+  In afternoon, a-liften high
+  Our reaekes avore the viery sky,
+  A-reaeken up the hay a-dried
+  By day, in lwongsome weaeles, to bide
+  In chilly dew below the moon,
+  O' shorten'd nights in zultry June.
+
+  An' there the brook do softly flow
+  Along, a-benden in a bow,
+  An' vish, wi' zides o' zilver-white,
+  Do flash vrom shoals a dazzlen light;
+  An' alders by the water's edge,
+  Do sheaede the ribbon-bleaeded zedge,
+  An' where, below the withy's head,
+  The zwimmen clote-leaves be a-spread,
+  The angler is a-zot at noon
+  Upon the flow'ry bank in June.
+
+  Vor all the aier that do bring
+  My little meaed the breath o' Spring,
+  By day an' night's a-flowen wide
+  Above all other vields bezide;
+  Vor all the zun above my ground
+  'S a-zent vor all the naighbours round,
+  An' rain do vall, an' streams do flow,
+  Vor lands above, an' lands below,
+  My bit o' meaed is God's own boon,
+  To me alwone, vrom June to June.
+
+
+
+
+EARLY RISEN.
+
+
+  The air to gi'e your cheaeks a hue
+  O' rwosy red, so feair to view,
+  Is what do sheaeke the grass-bleaedes gray
+  At breaek o' day, in mornen dew;
+  Vor vo'k that will be rathe abrode,
+  Will meet wi' health upon their road.
+
+  But biden up till dead o' night,
+  When han's o' clocks do stan' upright,
+  By candle-light, do soon consume
+  The feaece's bloom, an' turn it white.
+  An' light a-cast vrom midnight skies
+  Do blunt the sparklen ov the eyes.
+
+  Vor health do weaeke vrom nightly dreams
+  Below the mornen's eaerly beams,
+  An' leaeve the dead-air'd houses' eaves,
+  Vor quiv'ren leaves, an' bubblen streams,
+  A-glitt'ren 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 jays he do know.
+  Why, vor money he'd gi'e up his lags an' be leaeme,
+    Or would peaert wi' his zight an' be blind,
+  Or would lose vo'k's good will, vor to have a bad neaeme,
+    Or his peace, an' have trouble o' mind.
+  But wi' ev'ry good thing that his meaenness mid bring,
+      He'd pay 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 pleaece vor your lad."
+  "Aye, aye, but if I wer beholden 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 pain wer a-zet wi' my gain,
+      I should pay 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 straighten his bed,
+  An' the wold stunpole woak that do stan' in my ground,
+    Shoudden long sheaede the grass wi' his head.
+  But if I do vind jay where the leaves be a-shook
+    On the limbs, wi' their sheaedes on the grass,
+  Or below, in the bow o' the withy-bound nook,
+    That the rock-washen water do pass,
+  Then wi' they jays 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 play,
+    An' good rest when the body do tire,
+  Vor the mind a good conscience, wi' hope or wi' jay,
+    Vor the body, good lewth, an' good vire,
+  There's noo good o' goold, but to buy what 'ull meaeke
+    Vor our happiness here among men;
+  An' who would gi'e happiness up vor the seaeke
+    O' zome money to buy it ageaen?
+  Vor 'twould seem to the eyes ov a man that is wise,
+      Lik' money vor money,
+  Or zellen woone's honey to buy zome'hat sweet.
+
+
+
+
+DOBBIN DEAD.
+
+_Thomas_ (1) _an' John_ (2) _a-ta'en o't._
+
+
+  2. I do veel vor ye, Thomas, vor I be a-feaer'd
+     You've a-lost your wold meaere then, by what I've a-heaerd.
+
+  1. Ees, my meaere is a-gone, an' the cart's in the shed
+     Wi' his wheelbonds a-rusten, an' I'm out o' bread;
+     Vor what be my han's vor to eaern me a croust,
+     Wi' noo meaere's vower legs vor to trample the doust.
+
+  2. Well, how did it happen? He vell vrom the brim
+     Ov a cliff, as the teaele is, an' broke ev'ry lim'.
+
+  1. Why, I gi'ed en his run, an' he shook his wold meaene,
+     An' he rambled a-veeden in Westergap Leaene;
+     An' there he must needs goo a-riggen, an' crope
+     Vor a vew bleaedes 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 pleaece wer the road.
+
+  2. An' you hadden a-kept en so short, he must clim',
+     Lik' a gwoat, vor a bleaede, at the risk ov a lim'.
+
+  1. Noo, but there, I'm a-twold, he did clim' an' did slide,
+     An' did screaepe, an' did slip, on the shelven bank-zide,
+     An' at langth lost his vooten, 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 heaerd it, I now ha' vorgot;
+     Wer the poor thing bewitch'd or a-pweison'd, or what?
+
+  2. He wer out, an' a-meaeken his way to the brink
+     O' the stream at the end o' Church Leaene, 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 meaere;
+     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-heaerd it to year.
+     When King George wer in Do'set, an' show'd us his feaece
+     By our very own doors, at our very own pleaece,
+     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-peael'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-smwolderen avore
+  The back, to warm the stwonen 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' ceaere can come 'ithin a ring
+  O' sworded guards, to smite a king,
+  Though he mid hold 'ithin his hands
+  The zwarmen vo'k o' many lands;
+  Or goo in drough the iron-geaete
+  Avore the house o' lofty steaete;
+  Or reach the miser that do smile
+  A-builden 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 leaetely a-come,
+  That there's nothen 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 rain, if do hold up or vall;
+  There is nothen vrom mornen 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 burnen the child,
+  An' het it among the cat's heairs;
+  An' then beaet the cat, a-run wild,
+  Wi' a spark on her back up the steairs:
+  Vor even the vier an' fleaeme
+  Be to bleaeme 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 scalden 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 beaekers an' meaekers 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-vleen hook
+  Wer a-hitch'd in zome briars at his back.
+  Then he zwore at the brembles, an' prick'd
+  His beaere hand, as he pull'd the hook free;
+  An' ageaen, 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 sheaede mid alight,
+  An' to live wi' noo me'th round his head,
+  An' noo feaece 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 jay--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 eaeche
+  Or o' naighbours in sorrow o' soul,
+  An' I'll tweil all the night vor their seaeke;
+  An' show that to teaeke 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 maid come an' coax me to bag
+  Vor a frock, an' a frock she shall win;
+  Or, then if my wife do meaeke 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 meaeke me ceaeper an' froth
+  Vull o' wrath, lik' Gruffmoody Grim.
+
+
+
+
+THE TURN O' THE DAYS.
+
+
+  O the wings o' the rook wer a-glitteren bright,
+  As he wheel'd on above, in the zun's evenen 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 beaere-timber'd copse,
+  Wi' the dry wood a-sheaeken, wi' red-twigged tops.
+  Vor the dry-flowen wind, had a-blow'd off the drops
+    O' the rain, at the turn o' the days.
+
+  There the stream did run on, in the sheaede o' the hill,
+  So smooth in his flowen, as if he stood still,
+  An' bright wi' the skylight, did slide to the mill,
+    By the meaeds, 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 straight as the zunbeams, a-shot drough the bough
+    O' the tree at the turn o' the days.
+
+  Then the boomen wold clock in the tower did mark
+  His vive hours, avore the cool evenen wer dark,
+  An' ivy did glitter a-clung round the bark
+    O' the tree, at the turn o' the days.
+  An' women a-fraid o' the road in the night,
+  Wer a-heaestenen on to reach hwome by the light,
+  A-casten long sheaedes 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-zingen anew,
+    In the boughs, at the turn o' the days.
+  An' young vo'k a-laughen wi' smooth glossy feaece,
+  Did hie over vields, wi' a light-vooted peaece,
+  To friends where the tow'r did betoken a pleaece
+    Among trees, at the turn o' the days.
+
+
+
+
+THE SPARROW CLUB.
+
+
+  Last night the merry farmers' sons,
+    Vrom biggest down to leaest, min,
+  Gi'ed in the work of all their guns,
+    An' had their sparrow feaest, min.
+  An' who vor woone good merry soul
+    Should goo to sheaere their me'th, min,
+  But Gammon Gay, a chap so droll,
+    He'd meaeke 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 meaeke their scot,
+    Or else they'll pay a fine, min.
+  An' all the money they can teaeke
+    'S a-gather'd up there-right, min,
+  An' spent in meat an' drink, to meaeke
+    A supper vor the night, min.
+
+  Zoo when they took away the cloth,
+    In middle of their din, min,
+  An' cups o' eaele begun to froth,
+    Below their merry chin, min.
+  An' when the zong, by turn or chaice,
+    Went roun' vrom tongue to tongue, min,
+  Then Gammon pitch'd his merry vaice,
+    An' here's the zong he zung, min.
+
+  _Zong._
+
+  If you'll but let your clackers rest
+    Vrom jabberen an' hooten,
+  I'll teaeke my turn, an' do my best,
+    To zing o' sparrow shooten.
+  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 hail
+    Till ev'ry foe's a-vled, lads,
+  An' though the rogues mid all turn tail,
+    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 meaeke their veathers vlee, lads.
+
+  Zoo let the belted spwortsmen brag
+    When they've a-won a neaeme, so's,
+  That they do vind, or they do bag,
+    Zoo many head o' geaeme, 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 teaeke 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 feaere, avore we'll start,
+    We'll zit an' teaeke our vill, min;
+  Our supper-bill can be but short,
+    'Tis but a sparrow-bill, min.
+
+
+
+
+GAMMONY GA[:Y].
+
+
+  Oh! thik Gammony Gay 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 meeten 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 naighbours would cry
+  He do laugh where the rest o's would sigh:
+  Noo other's so merry o' feaece,
+  In the pleaece, as Gammony Gay.
+
+  An' o' worken days, Oh! he do wear
+  Such a funny roun' hat,--you mid know't--
+  Wi' a brim all a-strout roun' his heaeir,
+  An' his glissenen eyes down below't;
+  An' a cwoat wi' broad skirts that do vlee
+  In the wind ov his walk, round his knee;
+  An' a peaeir o' girt pockets lik' bags,
+  That do swing an' do bob at his lags:
+  While me'th do walk out drough the pleaece,
+  In the feaece o' Gammony Gay.
+
+  An' if he do goo over groun'
+  Wi' noo soul vor to greet wi' his words,
+  The feaece 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 pleaece
+  Wi' a smile or a grin on their feaece:
+  An' the young wi' the wold have a-heaerd
+  A kind word vrom Gammony Gay.
+
+  An' when he do whissel or hum,
+  'Ithout thinken o' what he's a-doen,
+  He'll beaet his own lags vor a drum,
+  An' bob his gay head to the tuen;
+  An' then you mid zee, 'etween whiles,
+  His feaece all alive wi' his smiles,
+  An' his gay-breathen bozom do rise,
+  An' his me'th do sheen out ov his eyes:
+  An' at last to have praise or have bleaeme,
+  Is the seaeme to Gammony Gay.
+
+  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 cracken 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,
+  Eaerm or lag, but Gammony Gay.
+
+  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-leaeden the ball;
+  While Gammon did sheaeke 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 Gay.
+
+  When our tun wer' o' vier he rod
+  Out to help us, an' meaede 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' seaefe on the he'th, wi' a grin
+  On his chin pitch'd Gammony Gay.
+
+  All the house-dogs do waggle their tails,
+  If they do but catch zight ov his feaece;
+  An' the ho'ses do look over rails,
+  An' do whicker to zee'n at the pleaece;
+  An' he'll always bestow a good word
+  On a cat or a whisselen bird;
+  An' even if culvers do coo,
+  Or an owl is a-cryen "Hoo, hoo,"
+  Where he is, there's always a joke
+  To be spoke, by Gammony Gay.
+
+
+
+
+THE HEARE.
+
+(_Dree o'm a-ta'ken o't._)
+
+
+  (1) There be the greyhounds! lo'k! an' there's the heaere!
+  (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 heaere, a-meaeken for the drong.
+  (2) My goodness! How the dogs do zweep along,
+      A-poken 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 gwaein to groun'.
+  (3) He is! (1) He idden! (3) Ah! 'tis well his tooes
+      Ha' got noo corns, inside o' hobnail shoes.
+  (1) He's geaeme a runnen too. Why, he do mwore
+      Than eaern 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
+      Agwain down Verny Hill, o' tother zide.
+      They'll have en there. (3) O no! a vew good hops
+      Wull teaeke 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 heaer 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 heaere? (4) He's got awoy.
+  (2) Ees, got awoy, in coo'se, I never zeed
+      A heaere a-scoten 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' catchen 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 feaere
+      On rabbits till his hounds do catch thik heaere.
+
+
+
+
+NANNY GILL.
+
+
+  Ah! they wer times, when Nanny Gill
+  Went so'jeren ageaenst 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 gleaere,
+  A-fighten foes that werden there.
+
+  Poor Nanny Gill did goo to zell
+  In town her glitt'ren macarel,
+  A-pack'd wi' ceaere, in even lots,
+  A-ho'seback in a peaeir 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 ageaen his zide,
+  An' had, to prick en into rank,
+  A so'jer's spurs ageaen his flank;
+    An' zoo, when he got zight
+    O' swords a-gleamen bright,
+    An' men agwain 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-pullen, wi' a scream an' grin,
+  Her wold brown rains 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 pleaece,
+  Vor Nanny's cloke an' frighten'd feaece;
+    While vo'k did laugh an' shout
+    To zee her cloke stream out,
+    As she did wheel about,
+  A-cryen, "Oh! la! dear!" in fright,
+  The while her ho'se did play sham fight.
+
+
+
+
+MOONLIGHT ON THE DOOR.
+
+
+  A-swayen slow, the poplar's head,
+    Above the slopen 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-boomen deep, did slowly sound
+    The bell, a-tellen middle night;
+  The while the quiv'ren ivy, round
+    The tree, did sheaeke in softest light.
+  But vootless wer the stwone avore
+    The house where I, the maidens guest,
+    At evenen, woonce did zit at rest
+  By moonlight on the door.
+
+  Though till the dawn, where night's a-meaede
+    The day, the laughen crowds be gay,
+  Let evenen zink wi' quiet sheaede,
+    Where I do hold my little sway.
+  An' childern dear to my heart's core,
+    A-sleep wi' little heaven breast,
+    That pank'd by day in play, 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 vain, vor heedless men,
+    The road, the vield, the work in hand.
+  When curtains be a-hung avore
+    The glitt'ren windows, snowy white,
+    An' vine-leaf sheaedes do sheaeke in light
+  O' moonlight on the door.
+
+
+
+
+MY LOVE'S GUARDIAN ANGEL.
+
+
+  As in the cool-air'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 stay'd,
+  Dark in the moonlight, bough's sheaedows play'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-heaeir'd angel that shed
+  Light vrom her white robe's zilvery thread,
+  Put her vore-vinger up vor to meaeke
+  Silence around lest sleepers mid weaeke,
+                               --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 meaede answer, "you do misteaeke:
+  She is asleep, but I that do weaeke,
+  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-sheaedes naiseless 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 meaeds wi' shoals an' pools,
+  Where streams did sheaeke the limber zedge,
+  An' milken vo'k did teaeke their stools,
+  In evenen zun-light under hedge:
+  Ov all the wears the brook did vill,
+  Or all the hatches where a sheet
+  O' foam did leaep below woone's veet,
+  The pleaece vor me wer Leeburn Mill.
+
+  An' while below the mossy wheel
+  All day the foamen stream did roar,
+  An' up in mill the floaten meal
+  Did pitch upon the sheaeken vloor.
+  We then could vind but vew han's still,
+  Or veet a-resten off the ground,
+  An' seldom hear the merry sound
+  O' geaemes a-play'd at Leeburn Mill.
+
+  But when they let the stream goo free,
+  Bezide the drippen wheel at rest,
+  An' leaves upon the poplar-tree
+  Wer dark avore the glowen west;
+  An' when the clock, a-ringen sh'ill,
+  Did slowly beaet zome evenen hour,
+  Oh! then 'ithin the leafy bow'r
+  Our tongues did run at Leeburn Mill.
+
+  An' when November's win' did blow,
+  Wi' hufflen storms along the plain,
+  An' blacken'd leaves did lie below
+  The neaeked tree, a-zoak'd wi' rain,
+  I werden at a loss to vill
+  The darkest hour o' rainy skies,
+  If I did vind avore my eyes
+  The feaeces down at Leeburn Mill.
+
+
+
+
+PRAISE O' DO'SET.
+
+
+  We Do'set, though we mid be hwomely,
+    Be'nt asheaem'd to own our pleaece;
+  An' we've zome women not uncomely;
+    Nor asheaem'd to show their feaece:
+  We've a meaed or two wo'th mowen,
+  We've an ox or two we'th showen,
+        In the village,
+        At the tillage,
+  Come along an' you shall vind
+  That Do'set men don't sheaeme 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-roamen,
+    An' ha' business at a farm,
+  Then woont ye zee your eaele a-foamen!
+    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 shillen,
+    Shillen's wo'th at any shop,
+  Though Do'set chaps be up to zellen,
+    An' can meaeke 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 maidens, 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 meaeres,
+  Along the winden leaenes o' gravel,
+    To the markets or the feaeirs,--
+  Though their ho'ses cwoats be ragged,
+  Though the men be muddy-lagged,
+        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! Meaery, when the zun went down,
+    Woone night in Spring, wi' vi'ry rim,
+  Behind thik nap wi' woody crown,
+    An' left your smilen feaece so dim;
+  Your little sister there, inside,
+    Wi' bellows on her little knee,
+  Did blow the vier, a-glearen wide
+    Drough window-peaenes, that I could zee,--
+  As you did stan' wi' me, avore
+  The house, a-peaerten,--woone smile mwore.
+
+  The chatt'ren birds, a-risen high,
+    An' zinken low, did swiftly vlee
+  Vrom shrinken moss, a-growen dry,
+    Upon the leaenen apple tree.
+  An' there the dog, a-whippen wide
+    His heaeiry tail, an' comen near,
+  Did fondly lay ageaen your zide
+    His coal-black nose an' russet ear:
+  To win what I'd a-won avore,
+  Vrom your gay feaece, his woone smile mwore.
+
+  An' while your mother bustled sprack,
+    A-getten supper out in hall,
+  An' cast her sheaede, a-whiv'ren black
+    Avore the vier, upon the wall;
+  Your brother come, wi' easy peaece,
+    In drough the slammen geaete, along
+  The path, wi' healthy-bloomen feaece,
+    A-whis'len 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' ceaere
+    Than what your hearty mother bore;
+  An' if abroad I have to rue
+    The bitter tongue, or wrongvul deed,
+  Mid I come hwome to sheaere wi' you
+    What's needvul free o' pinchen need:
+  An' vind that you ha' still in store,
+  My evenen 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 vaice did mock our neaemes, 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 gay as new,
+  We walk'd wi' shoes a-meaede to sheen
+    So black an' bright's a vull-ripe slooe
+  We then did hear the tongue ov air
+    A-mocken mother's vaice so thin,
+  "Come, now the bell do goo vor pray'r"
+                                --_vor pray'r_;
+  "'Tis time to goo to church; come in"
+                                --_come in_.
+
+  The night when little Anne, that died,
+    Begun to zicken, back in May,
+  An' she, at dusk ov evenen-tide,
+    Wer out wi' others at their play,
+  Within the churchyard that do keep
+    Her little bed, the vaice o' thin
+  Dark air, mock'd mother's call "To sleep"
+                                --_to sleep_;
+  "'Tis bed time now, my love, come in"
+                                --_come in_.
+
+  An' when our Jeaene come out so smart
+    A-married, an' we help'd her in
+  To Henry's newly-painted cart,
+    The while the wheels begun to spin,
+  An' her gay nods, vor all she smil'd,
+    Did sheaeke a tear-drop vrom each eye,
+  The vaice 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 beaet my manhood, if you can.
+  You'll be a man if you can teaeke
+  All steaetes that household life do meaeke.
+  The love-toss'd child, a-croodlen loud,
+    The bwoy a-screamen wild in play,
+  The tall grown youth a-steppen proud,
+    The father staid, the house's stay.
+      No; I can boast if others can,
+            I'm vull a man.
+
+  A young-cheaek'd mother's tears mid vall,
+  When woone a-lost, not half man-tall,
+  Vrom little hand, a-called vrom play,
+  Do leaeve noo tool, but drop a tay,
+  An' die avore he's father-free
+    To sheaepe 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 eaerm, a sister's trusty crook,
+  Is now a faithvul 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 loven maid an' merry son,
+  Though each in turn's a jay an' ceaere,
+  'Ve a-had, an' still shall have, their sheaere:
+  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]MEAeTES.
+
+
+  O jay betide the dear wold mill,
+    My naighbour playmeaetes' happy hwome,
+  Wi' rollen wheel, an' leaepen foam,
+    Below the overhangen 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' whirlen stwone, an' streamen flour,
+  Did goo the mill by cloty Stour.
+
+  An' there in geaemes by evenen skies,
+    When Meaery zot her down to rest,
+  The broach upon her panken breast,
+    Did quickly vall an' lightly rise,
+        While swans did zwim
+        In steaetely trim.
+  An' swifts did skim the water, bright
+  Wi' whirlen froth, in western light;
+  An' clack, clack, clack, that happy hour,
+  Wi' whirlen stwone, an' streamen flour,
+  Did goo the mill by cloty Stour.
+
+  Now mortery jeints, in streaks o' white,
+    Along the geaerden wall do show
+  In May, an' cherry boughs do blow,
+    Wi' bloomen tutties, snowy white,
+        Where rollen round,
+        Wi' rumblen sound,
+  The wheel woonce drown'd the vaice so dear
+  To me. I fain would goo to hear
+  The clack, clack, clack, vor woone short hour,
+  Wi' whirlen stwone, an' streamen flour,
+  Bezide the mill on cloty Stour.
+
+  But should I vind a-heaven now
+    Her breast wi' air o' thik dear pleaece?
+  Or zee dark locks by such a brow,
+    Or het o' play on such a feaece?
+        No! She's now staid,
+        An' where she play'd,
+  There's noo such maid that now ha' took
+  The pleaece that she ha' long vorsook,
+  Though clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour,
+  Wi' whirlen stwone an' streamen 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 feaece
+  Her father show'd about the pleaece,
+  As clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour,
+  Wi' whirlen stwone, an' streamen flour,
+  Did goo his mill by cloty Stour.
+
+
+
+
+THE LARK.
+
+
+   As I, below the mornen sky,
+    Wer out a worken in the lew
+  O' black-stemm'd thorns, a-springen high,
+    Avore the worold-bounden blue,
+  A-reaeken, under woak tree boughs,
+  The orts a-left behin' by cows.
+
+  Above the grey-grow'd thistle rings,
+    An' deaeisy-buds, the lark, in flight,
+  Did zing a-loft, wi' flappen wings,
+    Tho' mwore in heaeren than in zight;
+  The while my bwoys, in playvul me'th,
+  Did run till they wer out o' breath.
+
+  Then woone, wi' han'-besheaeded eyes,
+    A-stoppen still, as he did run,
+  Look'd up to zee the lark arise
+    A-zingen 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 teaeke;
+  An' woone, below, where he did tread,
+    Vound out the nest within the breaeke;
+  But, aggs be only woonce a-vound,
+  An' uncaught larks ageaen mid sound.
+
+
+
+
+THE TWO CHURCHES.
+
+
+  A happy day, a happy year.
+  A zummer Zunday, dazzlen 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' air did sway, 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' steaetely beech,
+  I heaerd two tow'rs a-cheemen 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-drownen wi' their holy call,
+  The goocoo an' the water-vall.
+  Die off, O bells o' my dear pleaece,
+  Ring out, O bells avore my feaece,
+  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, ageaen, 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 jays all vive bells rung
+  Our losses had woone iron tongue.
+  Oh! ring all round, an' never mwoaen
+  So deep an' slow woone bell alwone,
+  Vor sweet your swells o' vive clear bells.
+
+
+
+
+WOAK HILL.
+
+
+  When sycamore leaves wer a-spreaden,
+          Green-ruddy, in hedges,
+  Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
+          A-dried at Woak Hill;
+
+  I packed up my goods all a-sheenen
+          Wi' long years o' handlen,
+  On dousty red wheels ov a waggon,
+          To ride at Woak Hill.
+
+  The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellen,
+          I then wer a-leaeven,
+  Had shelter'd the sleek head o' Meaery,
+          My bride at Woak Hill.
+
+  But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall
+          'S a-lost vrom the vlooren.
+  Too soon vor my jay 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-ridden,
+          To bide at Woak Hill--
+
+  I call'd her so fondly, wi' lippens
+          All soundless to others,
+  An' took her wi' air-reachen hand,
+          To my zide at Woak Hill.
+
+  On the road I did look round, a-talken
+          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-wandren
+  Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely
+          A-tried at Woak Hill.
+
+  But no; that my Meaery mid never
+          Behold herzelf slighted,
+  I wanted to think that I guided
+          My guide vrom Woak Hill.
+
+
+
+
+THE HEDGER.
+
+
+  Upon the hedge theaese bank did bear,
+    Wi' lwonesome thought untwold in words,
+  I woonce did work, wi' noo sound there
+    But my own strokes, an' chirpen birds;
+  As down the west the zun went wan,
+  An' days brought on our Zunday's rest,
+  When sounds o' cheemen bells did vill
+  The air, an' hook an' axe wer still.
+
+  Along the wold town-path vo'k went,
+    An' met unknown, or friend wi' friend,
+  The maid her busy mother zent,
+    The mother wi' noo maid to zend;
+  An' in the light the gleaezier's glass,
+  As he did pass, wer dazzlen bright,
+  Or woone went by wi' down-cast head,
+  A wrapp'd in blackness vor the dead.
+
+  An' then the bank, wi' risen back,
+    That's now a-most a-trodden down,
+  Bore thorns wi' rind o' sheeny black,
+    An' meaeple stems o' ribby brown;
+  An' in the lewth o' theaese tree heads,
+  Wer primrwose beds a-sprung in blooth,
+  An' here a geaete, a-slammen to,
+  Did let the slow-wheel'd plough roll drough.
+
+  Ov all that then went by, but vew
+    Be now a-left behine', to beaet
+  The mornen flow'rs or evenen dew,
+    Or slam the woaken vive-bar'd geaete;
+  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 maid ov all maidens,
+    Though all mid be comely,
+  Her skin's lik' the jessamy blossom
+    A-spread in the Spring.
+
+  Her smile is so sweet as a beaeby'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 geaerden,
+    Now bear her sweet blossoms;
+  Now deck wi' a rwose-bud, O briar.
+    Her head in the Spring.
+
+  O light-rollen wind blow me hither,
+    The vaeice ov her talken,
+  Or bring vrom her veet the light doust,
+    She do tread in the Spring.
+
+  O zun, meaeke the gil'cups all glitter,
+    In goold all around her;
+  An' meaeke o' the deaeisys' white flowers
+    A bed in the Spring.
+
+  O whissle gay birds, up bezide her,
+    In drong-way, an' woodlands,
+  O zing, swingen lark, now the clouds,
+    Be a-vled in the Spring.
+
+  An' who, you mid ax, be my praises
+    A-meaeken so much o',
+  An' oh! 'tis the maid I'm a-hopen
+    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 air did softly blow
+      On the flowen stream,
+  An' there wer gil'cups' buds untwold,
+  An' deaeisies that begun to vwold
+  Their low-stemm'd blossoms vrom my zight
+  Ageaen the night, an' evenen's cwold.
+
+  But, oh! so cwold below the darksome cloud
+      Soon the night-wind roar'd,
+  Wi' rainy storms that zent the zwollen streams
+      Over ev'ry vword.
+  The while the drippen 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 mornen sky;
+  An' roun' the woak, the wind a-blowen weak,
+      Softly whiver'd by.
+  Though drown'd wer still the deaisy bed
+  Below the flood, its feaece instead
+  O' flow'ry grown', below our shoes
+  Show'd feaeirest views o' skies o'er head.
+
+  An' zoo to try if all our faith is true
+      Jay mid end in tears,
+  An' hope, woonce feaeir, mid sadden into fear,
+      Here in e'thly years.
+  But He that tried our soul do know
+  To meaeke us good amends, an' show
+  Instead o' things a-took away,
+  Some higher jay that He'll bestow.
+
+
+
+
+COMEN HWOME.
+
+
+  As clouds did ride wi' heaesty flight.
+  An' woods did swaey upon the height,
+  An' bleaedes o' grass did sheaeke, below
+  The hedge-row bremble's swingen bow,
+  I come back hwome where winds did zwell,
+    In whirls along the woody gleaedes,
+    On primrwose beds, in windy sheaedes,
+  To Burnley's dark-tree'd dell.
+
+  There hills do screen the timber's bough,
+  The trees do screen the leaeze's brow,
+  The timber-sheaeded leaeze do bear
+  A beaeten path that we do wear.
+  The path do stripe the leaeze's zide,
+    To willows at the river's edge.
+    Where hufflen winds did sheaeke the zedge
+  An' sparklen weaeves did glide.
+
+  An' where the river, bend by bend,
+  Do draein our meaed, an' mark its end,
+  The hangen leaeze do teaeke our cows,
+  An' trees do sheaede em wi' their boughs,
+  An' I the quicker beaet the road,
+    To zee a-comen 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 leaeze ha' cows to low,
+  The elem trees ha' rooks on wing,
+    The meaeds a brook to flow,
+  But I can walk noo mwore, to pass
+    The drashel out abrode,
+  To wear a path in theaese year's grass
+    Or tread the wheelworn road,"
+  Cried Grammer, "then adieu,
+      O runnen brooks,
+      An' vleen 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' jayvul sounds,
+  Sprung in an' cried, "We had a run,
+    A-playen heaere an' hounds;
+  But oh! the cowslips where we stopt
+    In Maycreech, on the knap!"
+  An' vrom their little han's each dropt
+    Some cowslips in her lap.
+  Cried Grammer, "Only zee!
+      I can't teaeke 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 tryen times;
+  But oh! though low mid slant my ruf,
+    Though hard my lot mid be,
+  Though dry mid come my daily lwoaf,
+    Mid mercy leaeve me free!"
+  Cried Grammer, "Or adieu
+      To jay; O grounds,
+      An' bird's gay 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-mwoldren to the zunny sky.
+
+  An' there wi' Jenny took a stroll
+    Her youngest sister, Poll, so gay,
+  Bezide John Hind, ah! merry soul,
+    An' mid her wedlock fay;
+  An' at our zides did play an' run
+  My little maid an' smaller son.
+
+  Above the beaeten mwold upsprung
+    The driven doust, a-spreaden light,
+  An' on the new-leav'd thorn, a-hung,
+    Wer wool a-quiv'ren white;
+  An' corn, a sheenen bright, did bow,
+  On slopen Meldon's zunny brow.
+
+  There, down the rufless wall did glow
+    The zun upon the grassy vloor,
+  An' weakly-wandren 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-flappen vrom their ivy bow'rs;
+  My wife did watch my maid's light springs,
+    Out here an' there vor flow'rs;
+  And John did zee noo tow'rs, the pleaece
+  Vor him had only Polly's feaece.
+
+  An' there, of all that pried about
+    The walls, I overlook'd em best,
+  An' what o' that? Why, I meaede 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 liven 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 FEAeIR.
+
+_Jeaene; her Brother; John, her Sweetheart; and Racketen Joe_
+
+
+  JEAeNE.
+
+  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 veaet!
+  I've sca'ce a thing a-left in pleaece.
+  'Tis all a-tore vrom pin an' leaece.
+  My bonnet's like a wad, a-beaet up to a dod,
+  An' all my heaeir's about my feaece.
+
+  HER BROTHER.
+
+  Here, come an' zit out here a bit,
+  An' put yourzelf to rights.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  No, Jeaene; 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 sheaepe.
+
+  HER BROTHER.
+
+  An' there's your pin, and there's your ceaepe.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  An' there your curls do match, an' there
+  'S the vittiest maid in all the feaeir.
+
+  JEAeNE.
+
+  Now look, an' tell us who's a-spied
+  Vrom Sturminster, or Manston zide.
+
+  HER BROTHER.
+
+  There's ranten Joe! How he do stalk,
+  An' zwang his whip, an' laugh, an' talk!
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  An' how his head do wag, avore his steppen lag.
+  Jist like a pigeon's in a walk!
+
+  HER BROTHER.
+
+  Heigh! there, then, Joey, ben't we proud
+
+  JEAeNE.
+
+  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?
+
+  RACKETEN JOE.
+
+                       Yes, Sir, to you.
+  All o' me that's a-left.
+
+  JEAeNE.
+
+  A body plump's a goodish lump
+  Where reaemes ha' such a heft.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  Who lost his crown a-racen?
+
+  RACKETEN JOE.
+
+                               Who?
+  Zome silly chap abacken you.
+  Well, now, an' how do vo'k treat Jeaene?
+
+  JEAeNE.
+
+  Why not wi' feaerens.
+
+  RACKETEN JOE.
+
+                        What d'ye meaen,
+  When I've a-brought ye such a bunch
+  O' theaese nice ginger-nuts to crunch?
+  An' here, John, here! you teaeke a vew.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  No, keep em all vor Jeaene an' you!
+
+  RACKETEN JOE.
+
+  Well, Jeaene, an' when d'ye meaen to come
+  An' call on me, then, up at hwome.
+  You han't a-come athirt, since I'd my voot a-hurt,
+  A-slippen vrom the tree I clomb.
+
+  JEAeNE.
+
+  Well, if so be that you be stout
+  On voot ageaen, you'll vind me out.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  Aye, better chaps woont goo, not many steps vor you,
+  If you do hawk yourzelf about.
+
+  RACKETEN 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 nothen else but fun.
+
+  JEAeNE.
+
+  There, what d'ye think o' my new ceaepe?
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  Why, think that 'tis an ugly sheaepe.
+
+  JEAeNE.
+
+  Then you should buy me, now theaese feaeir,
+  A mwore becomen woone to wear.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  I buy your ceaepe! No; Joe wull screaepe
+  Up dibs enough to buy your ceaepe.
+  As things do look, to meaeke you fine
+  Is long Joe's business mwore than mine.
+
+  JEAeNE.
+
+  Lauk, John, the mwore that you do pout
+  The mwore he'll gl[=e]ne.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+                           A yelpen lout.
+
+
+
+
+EARLY PLA[:Y]MEAeTE.
+
+
+  After many long years had a-run,
+    The while I wer a-gone vrom the pleaece,
+  I come back to the vields, where the zun
+    Ov her childhood did show me her feaece.
+  There her father, years wolder, did stoop.
+    An' her brother, wer now a-grow'd staid,
+  An' the apple tree lower did droop.
+    Out in the orcha'd where we had a-play'd,
+  There wer zome things a-seemen the seaeme,
+    But Meaery's a-married away.
+
+  There wer two little childern a-zent,
+    Wi' a message to me, oh! so feair
+  As the mother that they did zoo ment,
+    When in childhood she play'd wi' me there.
+  Zoo they twold me that if I would come
+    Down to Coomb, I should zee a wold friend,
+  Vor a playmeaete o' mine wer at hwome,
+    An' would stay till another week's end.
+  At the dear pworched door, could I dare
+    To zee Meaery a-married away!
+
+  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-hangen 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 May sky;
+  But the bud on the bed, coulden bide,
+    Wi' young Meaery a-married away.
+
+  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'ren, all beaere 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' Meaery a-married away.
+
+
+
+
+PICKEN O' SCROFF.
+
+
+  Oh! the wood wer a-vell'd in the copse,
+    An' the moss-bedded primrwose did blow;
+  An' vrom tall-stemmed trees' leafless tops,
+    There did lie but slight sheaedes down below.
+  An' the sky wer a-showen, 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 leaetely 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 burnen, well wo'th reaeken off,
+  By the childern a-picken o' scroff.
+
+  In the tree-studded leaeze, where the woak
+    Wer a-spreaden his head out around,
+  There the scrags that the wind had a-broke,
+    Wer a-lyen about on the ground
+  Or the childern, wi' little red hands,
+  Wer a-tyen em up in their bands;
+  Vor noo squier or farmer turn'd off
+  Little childern a-picken o' scroff.
+
+  There wer woone bloomen 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 play, vor to tait,
+  On a woak-limb, a-growen out straight.
+  But she soon wer a-taited down off,
+  By her meaetes out a-picken o' scroff.
+
+  When they childern do grow to staid vo'k,
+    An' goo out in the worold, all wide
+  Vrom the copse, an' the zummerleaeze woak,
+    Where at last all their elders ha' died,
+  They wull then vind it touchen to bring,
+  To their minds, the sweet springs o' their spring,
+  Back avore the new vo'k did turn off
+  The poor childern a-picken o' scroff.
+
+
+
+
+GOOD NIGHT.
+
+
+  While down the meaeds 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 weaen'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 meaede ring,
+  Dark where the sparks did spring;
+  Low shot the zun's last beams.
+  Lim'-weary souls "Good dreams."
+
+  Where I vrom dark bank-sheaedes
+    Turn'd up the west hill road,
+  Where all the green grass bleaedes
+    Under the zunlight glow'd.
+  Startled I met, as the zunbeams play'd
+  Light, wi' a zunsmote maid,
+  Come vor my day's last zight,
+  Zun-brighten'd maid "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-comen up vrom meaed,
+    Brought gil'cup meal upon the shoe;
+  Or went on where the road did leaed,
+    Wi' smeechy doust from heel to tooe.
+  As noon did smite, wi' burnen 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' watershooten 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 sheaedes, vor rest, on grassy ground,
+  An' thatch-brow'd windows, flower-bound,
+  Where I could wish wer my abode.
+  I pass'd the maid avore the spring,
+    An' shepherd by the thornen tree;
+  An' heaerd the merry drever 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 jay,
+  Shall be a-miss'd another May.
+
+  My childern here, in playvul pride
+    Did zit 'ithin his wooden walls,
+  A-menten steaetely 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 teaeke em in, so big an' tall.
+
+  Theaese year do show, wi' snow-white cloud,
+    An' deaesies in a sprinkled bed,
+  An' green-bough birds a-whislen loud,
+    The looks o' zummer days a-vled;
+          An' grass do grow,
+          An' men do mow,
+  An' all do show the wold times' feaece
+  Wi' new things in the wold things' pleaece.
+
+
+
+
+CHILDERN'S CHILDERN.
+
+
+  Oh! if my ling'ren life should run,
+    Drough years a-reckoned ten by ten,
+  Below the never-tiren zun,
+    Till beaebes ageaen 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 steaete
+        In time so leaete,
+  Be jay or pain, be pain or jay?
+
+  When Zunday then, a-weaenen dim,
+    As theaese that now's a-clwosen still,
+  Mid lose the zun's down-zinken 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-vlocken by, but shoulden hear,
+  However near, a voot or tongue:
+        Mid zuch a zight,
+        In that soft light
+  Be jay or pain, be pain or jay.
+
+  If I should zee among em all,
+    In merry youth, a-gliden by,
+  My son's bwold son, a-grown man-tall,
+    Or daughter's daughter, woman-high;
+  An' she mid smile wi' your good feaece,
+  Or she mid walk your comely peaece,
+  But seem, although a-chatten loud,
+  So dumb's a cloud, in that bright pleaece:
+        Would youth so feaeir,
+        A-passen there,
+  Be jay or pain, be pain or jay.
+
+  'Tis seldom strangth or comeliness
+    Do leaeve 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' liven gifts o' youth do vall,
+  Vrom girt to small, but never die:
+        An' should I view,
+        What God mid do,
+  Wi' jay or pain, wi' pain or jay?
+
+
+
+
+THE RWOSE IN THE DARK.
+
+
+  In zummer, leaete at evenen 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-risen to her comely height,
+    She push'd the swingen ceaesement round;
+  And I could hear, beyond my zight,
+    The win'-blow'd beech-tree softly sound,
+  On higher ground, a-swayen slow,
+  On drough my happy hour below.
+
+  An' tho' the darkness then did hide
+    The dewy rwose's blushen bloom,
+  He still did cast sweet air inside
+    To Jeaene, a-chatten in the room;
+  An' though the gloom did hide her feaece,
+  Her words did bind me to the pleaece.
+
+  An' there, while she, wi' runnen 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 feaece by mornen light.
+
+
+
+
+COME.
+
+
+  Wull ye come in eaerly Spring,
+  Come at Easter, or in May?
+  Or when Whitsuntide mid bring
+  Longer light to show your way?
+  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' vaice to vaice the while
+  All their words be sweet to hear;
+  Come that feaece to feaece 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-heaerd.
+              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 playsome flight,
+  Do blow on vields in noon-day light,
+  Or ruslen trees, in twilight night.
+         Sweet's a stroll,
+  By flow'ry knowl, or blue-feaeced pool
+  That zummer win's do ruffle cool.
+
+  When the moon's broad light do vill
+  Plains, a-sheenen down the hill;
+  A-glitteren on window glass,
+  O then, while zummer win's do pass
+  The rippled brook, an' swayen grass,
+        Sweet's a walk,
+  Where we do talk, wi' feaeces bright,
+  In whispers in the peacevul night.
+
+  When the swayen men do mow
+  Flow'ry grass, wi' zweepen blow,
+  In het a-most enough to dry
+  The flat-spread clote-leaf that do lie
+  Upon the stream a-stealen by,
+        Sweet's their rest,
+  Upon the breast o' knap or mound
+  Out where the goocoo's vaice do sound.
+
+  Where the sleek-heaeir'd maid do zit
+  Out o' door to zew or knit,
+  Below the elem where the spring
+  'S a-runnen, 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 gay is she below the tree.
+
+  Come, O zummer wind, an' bring
+  Sounds o' birds as they do zing,
+  An' bring the smell o' bloomen may,
+  An' bring the smell o' new-mow'd hay;
+  Come fan my feaece as I do stray,
+        Fan the heaeir
+  O' Jessie feaeir; fan her cool,
+  By the weaeves o' stream or pool.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEAeME LETTERS.
+
+
+  When high-flown larks wer on the wing,
+  A warm-air'd holiday in Spring,
+  We stroll'd, 'ithout a ceaere 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' sheaedes o' clouds on high
+    A-flitten by, at Meldonley.
+
+  An' there, the while the tree did sheaede
+  Their gigglen heads, my knife's keen bleaede
+  Carved out, in turf avore my knee,
+    J. L., *T. D., at Meldonley.
+  'Twer Jessie Lee J. L. did meaen,
+  T. D. did stan' vor Thomas Deaene;
+  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-sheaeken brown.
+    Upon the down at Meldonley,
+  We stroll'd ageaen 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 leaedy's-vingers that did spread
+    In yollow red, at Meldonley.
+  An' heaerebells 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-heaeired meaeres do sprackly pull
+    My waggon vull, at Meldonley;
+  An' small-hoof'd sheep, in vleeces white,
+  Wi' quickly-panken zides, do bite
+  My thymy grass, a-mark'd vor me
+    In black, T. D., at Meldonley.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW HOUSE A-GETTEN WOLD.
+
+
+  Ah! when our wedded life begun,
+    Theaese 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-feaeced moon.
+
+  An' rain-bred moss ha' stain'd wi' green
+    The smooth-feaeced wall's white-morter'd streaks,
+  The while our childern zot between
+    Our seats avore the fleaeme's red peaks:
+  The fleaeme's red peaks, till axan white
+  Did quench em vor the long-sleep'd night.
+
+  The bloom that woonce did overspread
+    Your rounded cheaek, as time went by,
+  A-shrinken to a patch o' red,
+    Did feaede so soft's the evenen sky:
+  The evenen sky, my faithful wife,
+  O' days as feaeir's our happy life.
+
+
+
+
+ZUNDAY.
+
+
+  In zummer, when the sheaedes do creep
+    Below the Zunday steeple, round
+  The mossy stwones, that love cut deep
+    Wi' neaemes that tongues noo mwore do sound,
+  The leaene do lose the stalken team,
+    An' dry-rimm'd waggon-wheels be still,
+  An' hills do roll their down-shot stream
+    Below the resten wheel at mill.
+  O holy day, when tweil do ceaese,
+  Sweet day o' rest an' greaece an' peaece!
+
+  The eegrass, vor a while unwrung
+    By hoof or shoe, 's a sheenen 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 aier that do bear along
+    The loud-rung peals o' Zunday bells,
+  Upon the day o' days the best,
+  The day o' greaece an' peaece an' rest.
+
+  By brightshod veet, in peaeir an' peaeir,
+    Wi' comely steps the road's a-took
+  To church, an' work-free han's do beaer
+    Woone's walken stick or sister's book;
+  An' there the bloomen 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 pleaece,
+ The day o' rest an' peaece an' greaece.
+
+
+
+
+THE PILLAR'D GEAeTE.
+
+
+  As I come by, zome years agoo,
+  A-burnt below a sky o' blue,
+  'Ithin the pillar'd geaete there zung
+  A vaice a-sounden sweet an' young,
+  That meaede me veel awhile to zwim
+  In weaeves o' jay 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 meaete to match my steaete
+  'Ithin the lofty-pillar'd geaete,
+  Wi' stwonen 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 geaete wer oben wide,
+  An' who should be a-show'd inside,
+  But she, the comely maid whose hymn
+  Woonce meaede my giddy brain to zwim,
+  A-zitten in the sheaede to zew,
+  A-clad in robes as white as snow.
+      What then? could I so low
+  Look out a meaete ov higher steaete
+  So gay 'ithin a pillar'd geaete,
+  Wi' high walls round the smooth-mow'd ground?
+      Oh, no! my heart, no, no.
+
+  Long years stole by, a-gliden 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 rejaice,
+  Yet sweet did sound her zongless vaice.
+      But had she, in her woe,
+  The higher steaete she had o' leaete
+  'Ithin the lofty pillar'd geaete,
+  Wi' stwonen balls upon the walls?
+      Oh, no! my heart, no, no.
+
+  But while she vell, my Meaeker's greaece
+  Led me to teaeke a higher pleaece,
+  An' lighten'd up my mind wi' lore,
+  An' bless'd me wi' a worldly store;
+  But still noo winsome feaece or vaice,
+  Had ever been my wedded chaice;
+  An' then I thought, why do I mwope
+  Alwone without a jay or hope?
+      Would she still think me low?
+  Or scorn a meaete, in my feaeir steaete,
+  In here 'ithin a pillar'd geaete,
+  A happy pleaece wi' her kind feaece?
+      Oh, no! my hope, no, no.
+
+  I don't stand out 'tis only feaete
+  Do gi'e to each his wedded meaete;
+  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 sheaere
+  My good an' ill, an' jaey an ceaere,
+      Should I have bliss below,
+  In gleaemen pleaete an' lofty steaete
+  'Ithin the lofty pillar'd geaete,
+  Wi' feaeirest flow'rs, an' ponds an' tow'rs?
+      Oh, no! my heart, no, no.
+
+
+
+
+ZUMMER STREAM.
+
+
+  Ah! then the grassy-meaeded May
+  Did warm the passen year, an' gleam
+  Upon the yellow-grounded stream,
+  That still by beech-tree sheaedes do stray.
+  The light o' weaeves, a-runnen there,
+    Did play on leaves up over head,
+  An' vishes sceaely zides did gleaere,
+    A-darten on the shallow bed,
+  An' like the stream a-sliden 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 deaeisies white,
+  Or blue below the deep blue sky.
+  Then glowen warm wer ev'ry brow,
+    O' maid, or man, in zummer het,
+  An' warm did glow the cheaeks I met
+    That time, noo mwore to meet em now.
+  As brooks, a-sliden on their bed,
+  My season-measur'd time's a-vled.
+
+  Vrom yonder window, in the thatch,
+  Did sound the maidens' merry words,
+  As I did stand, by zingen birds,
+  Bezide the elem-sheaeded hatch.
+  'Tis good to come back to the pleaece,
+    Back to the time, to goo noo mwore;
+  'Tis good to meet the younger feaece
+    A-menten others here avore.
+  As streams do glide by green mead-grass,
+  My zummer-brighten'd years do pass.
+
+
+
+
+LINDA DEAeNE.
+
+
+  The bright-tunn'd house, a-risen proud,
+  Stood high avore a zummer cloud,
+  An' windy sheaedes o' tow'rs did vall
+  Upon the many-window'd wall;
+  An' on the grassy terrace, bright
+  Wi' white-bloom'd zummer's deaisy beds,
+  An' snow-white lilies nodden heads,
+  Sweet Linda Deaene did walk in white;
+  But ah! avore too high a door,
+  Wer Linda Deaene ov Ellendon.
+
+  When sparklen brooks an' grassy ground,
+  By keen-air'd Winter's vrost wer bound,
+  An' star-bright snow did streak the forms
+  O' beaere-lim'd trees in darksome storms,
+  Sweet Linda Deaene did lightly glide,
+  Wi' snow-white robe an' rwosy feaece,
+  Upon the smooth-vloor'd hall, to treaece
+  The merry dance o' Chris'mas tide;
+  But oh! not mine be balls so fine
+  As Linda Deaene's at Ellendon.
+
+  Sweet Linda Deaene do match the skies
+  Wi' sheenen blue o' glisnen eyes,
+  An' feairest blossoms do but show
+  Her forehead's white, an' feaece's glow;
+  But there's a winsome jay 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 Deaene ov Ellendon.
+
+
+
+
+[Gothic: Eclogue.]
+
+COME AND ZEE US IN THE ZUMMER.
+
+_John; William; William's Bwoy; and William's Maid at Feaeir._
+
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  Zoo here be your childern, a-sheaeren
+  Your feaeir-day, an' each wi' a feaeiren.
+
+  WILLIAM.
+
+  Aye, well, there's noo peace 'ithout comen
+  To stannen an' show, in the zummer.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  An' how is your Jeaene? still as merry
+  As ever, wi' cheaeks lik' a cherry?
+
+  WILLIAM.
+
+  Still merry, but beauty's as feaedesome
+  'S the rain's glowen 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 mowen 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 innens at cricket;
+  An' teaeke 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 "Hunten the slipper," or wheedle
+  Young Jemmy to fiddle, an' reely
+  So brisk to an' fro in the zummer.
+
+  JOHN.
+
+  An' Jeaene. Mind you don't come 'ithout her,
+  My wife is a-thinken 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-reachen high,
+  The while their lower limbs do zweep
+    The river-stream a-flowen by;
+  By graegle bells in beds o' blue,
+  Below the tree-stems in the lew,
+  Calm air do vind the rwose-bound door,
+  Ov Ellen Dare o' Lindenore.
+
+  An' there noo foam do hiss avore
+    Swift bwoats, wi' water-plowen keels,
+  An' there noo broad high-road's a-wore
+    By vur-brought trav'lers' cracklen wheels;
+  Noo crowd's a-passen 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 leaeve her ruf
+  To be admir'd, an' that's enough--
+  Vor I've a-vound 'ithin her door,
+  Feaeir Ellen Dare o' Lindenore.
+
+
+
+
+ME'TH BELOW THE TREE.
+
+
+  O when theaese elems' crooked boughs,
+  A'most too thin to sheaede the cows,
+  Did slowly swing above the grass
+  As winds o' Spring did softly pass,
+  An' zunlight show'd the shiften sheaede,
+  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 stwonen doorway, now so still;
+  An' zome did joke, wi' ceaesement 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 jay to zee an' hear their fun,
+  But sweeter jay up here above
+  Wi' bright-ey'd me'th below the tree.
+
+  Now unknown veet do beaet the vloor,
+  An' unknown han's do shut the door,
+  An' unknown men do ride abrode,
+  An' hwome ageaen on thik wold road,
+  Drough geaetes all now a-hung anew.
+  Noo mind but mine ageaen can call
+  Wold feaeces 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 pleaece
+  To show his head an' frownen feaece,
+  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 jay, wi' Pleasure or wi' Pride:
+  My happiness wer here above
+  The feaest, wi' me'th below the tree.
+
+  The wild rwose now do hang in zight,
+  To mornen zun an' evenen light,
+  The bird do whissle in the gloom,
+  Avore the thissle out in bloom,
+  But here alwone the tree do leaen.
+  The twig that woonce did whiver there
+  Is now a limb a-wither'd beaere:
+  Zoo I do miss the sheaede above
+  My head, an' me'th below the tree.
+
+
+
+
+TREAT WELL YOUR WIFE.
+
+
+  No, no, good Meaester 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 beheaeve 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 sheaedy lash,
+      A-glisnen to the moon.
+
+  Think how her girlhood met noo ceaere
+  To peaele the bloom her feaece did weaer,
+  An' how her glossy temple prest
+  Her pillow down, in still-feaeced rest,
+  While sheaedes o' window bars did vall
+  In moonlight on the gloomy wall,
+      In cool-air'd nights o' June;
+  The while her lids, wi' benden streaeks
+  O' lashes, met above her cheaeks,
+      A-bloomen to the moon.
+
+  Think how she left her childhood's pleaece,
+  An' only sister's long-known feaece,
+  An' brother's jokes so much a-miss'd,
+  An' mother's cheaek, the last a-kiss'd;
+  An' how she lighted down avore
+  Her new abode, a husband's door,
+      Your wedden night in June;
+  Wi' heart that beaet wi' hope an' fear,
+  While on each eye-lash hung a tear,
+      A-glisnen to the moon.
+
+  Think how her father zot all dum',
+  A-thinken on her, back at hwome,
+  The while grey axan gather'd thick,
+  On dyen 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 rain-drops on a slender twig,
+      A-glisnen to the moon.
+
+  Zoo don't zit thoughtless at your cup
+  An' keep your wife a-waeiten up,
+  The while the clock's a-ticken slow
+  The chilly hours o' vrost an' snow,
+  Until the zinken candle's light
+  Is out avore her drowsy sight,
+      A-dimm'd wi' grief too soon;
+  A-leaeven there alwone to murn
+  The feaeden cheaek that woonce did burn,
+      A-bloomen 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-dryen zun,--
+    Aye! vrom days under blue-hollow'd skies.
+
+  He went out to the mowers in meaed,
+    When the zun wer a-rose to his height,
+  An' the men wer a-swingen the sneaed,
+    Wi' their eaerms in white sleeves, left an' right;
+  An' out there, as they rested at noon,
+    O! they drench'd en vrom eaele-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-zweltren wi' het,
+  Wi' his heaeir all a-wetted around
+    His young feaece, 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 haey russled grey
+    On the staddle so leaetely 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 sheaeded 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 deaeisies, a-spread in a sheet.
+  There a quick-trippen maid come along,--
+    Aye, a girl wi' her light-steppen veet.
+
+  An' she cried "I do pray, is the road
+    Out to Lincham on here, by the meaed?"
+  An' "oh! ees," I meaede answer, an' show'd
+    Her the way it would turn an' would leaed:
+  "Goo along by the beech in the nook,
+    Where the childern do play in the cool,
+  To the steppen 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' cheaeks up so red
+    As a pi'ny but leaete a-come out,
+  "No, I liv'd wi' my uncle that died
+    Back in Eaepril, 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 asheaemed that I wanted to know
+    Any mwore of her childhood or life,
+  But then, why should so feaeir a child grow
+    Where noo father did bide wi' his wife;
+  Then wi' blushes of zunrisen 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 meaede me a'most teary-ey'd,
+    An' I vound I a'most could ha' groan'd--
+  What! so winnen, 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 gleaere,
+  On where the slow-wheel'd plow
+    'D a-wore the grass half bare.
+  An' gil'cups quiver'd quick,
+    As air did pass,
+  An' deaeisies huddled thick
+    Among the grass.
+
+  The while my eaerms 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 meaeke 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 pay,
+  An' then zit down below
+    My own wi' jay.
+
+
+
+
+OBEN VIELDS.
+
+
+  Well, you mid keep the town an' street,
+  Wi' grassless stwones to beaet your veet,
+  An' zunless windows where your brows
+  Be never cooled by swayen boughs;
+  An' let me end, as I begun,
+  My days in oben air an' zun,
+  Where zummer win's a-blowen sweet,
+  Wi' blooth o' trees as white's a sheet;
+  Or swayen boughs, a-benden low
+  Wi' rip'nen apples in a row,
+  An' we a-risen rathe do meet
+  The bright'nen dawn wi' dewy veet,
+  An' leaeve, at night, the vootless groves,
+  To rest 'ithin our thatchen oves.
+  An' here our childern still do bruise
+  The deaeisy buds wi' tiny shoes,
+  As we did meet avore em, free
+  Vrom ceaere, in play below the tree.
+  An' there in me'th their lively eyes
+  Do glissen to the zunny skies,
+  As air do blow, wi' leaezy peaece
+  To cool, in sheaede, their burnen feaece.
+  Where leaves o' spreaden docks do hide
+  The zawpit's timber-lwoaded zide,
+  An' trees do lie, wi' scraggy limbs,
+  Among the deaeisy's crimson rims.
+  An' they, so proud, wi' eaerms a-spread
+  To keep their balance good, do tread
+  Wi' ceaereful steps o' tiny zoles
+  The narrow zides o' trees an' poles.
+  An' zoo I'll leaeve vor your light veet
+  The peaevement o' the zunless street,
+  While I do end, as I begun,
+  My days in oben air an' zun.
+
+
+
+
+WHAT JOHN WER A-TELLEN 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 scratchen 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 air a-streamen cool,
+  As if 'ithin a room, vull wide
+    An' high, you zot to guide an' rule.
+  You leaez'd about the stubbly land,
+    An' soon vill'd up your small left hand
+  Wi' ruddy ears your right hand vound,
+    An' trail'd the stalks along the ground.
+  How time's a-gone! How years do goo!
+
+  Then in the waggon you did teaeke
+    A ride, an' as the wheels vell down
+  Vrom ridge to vurrow, they did sheaeke
+    On your small head your poppy crown,
+  An' now your little maid, a dear,
+    Your childhood's very daps, is here,
+  Zoo let her stay, that her young feaece
+    Mid put a former year in pleaece.
+  How time do run! How years do roll!
+
+
+
+
+SHEAeDES.
+
+
+  Come here an' zit a while below
+   Theaese tower, grey and ivy-bound,
+  In sheaede, 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 gleaede,
+  But never stir the sleepen sheaede.
+
+  As when you stood upon the brink
+    O' yonder brook, wi' back-zunn'd head,
+  Your zunny-grounded sheaede did zink
+    Upon the water's grav'lly bed,
+        Where weaeves could zweep
+        Away, or keep,
+  The gravel heap that they'd a-meaede,
+  But never wash away the sheaede.
+
+  An' zoo, when you can woonce vulvil
+    What's feaeir, a-tried by heaven's light,
+  Why never fear that evil will
+    Can meaeke a wrong o' your good right.
+        The right wull stand,
+        Vor all man's hand,
+  Till streams on zand, an' wind in gleaedes,
+  Can zweep away the zuncast sheaedes.
+
+
+
+
+TIMES O' YEAR.
+
+
+  Here did swaey the eltrot flow'rs,
+  When the hours o' night wer vew,
+  An' the zun, wi' eaerly beams
+  Brighten'd streams, an' dried the dew,
+  An' the goocoo there did greet
+  Passers by wi' dousty veet.
+
+  There the milkmaid hung her brow
+  By the cow, a-sheenen 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-blowen blast,
+  Here do cast vrom elems' heads
+  Feaeded leaves, a-whirlen round,
+  Down to ground, in yollow beds,
+  Ruslen 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.]
+
+RACKETEN JOE.
+
+
+_Racketen Joe; his Sister; his Cousin Fanny; and the Dog._
+
+
+  RACKETEN JOE.
+
+  Heigh! heigh! here. Who's about?
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+  Oh! lauk! Here's Joe, a ranten lout,
+
+  A-meaeken his wild randy-rout.
+
+  RACKETEN JOE.
+
+  Heigh! Fanny! How d'ye do? (_slaps her._)
+
+  FANNY.
+
+  Oh! fie; why all the woo'se vor you
+  A-slappen o' me, black an' blue,
+  My back!
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+            A whack! you loose-eaerm'd chap,
+  To gi'e your cousin sich a slap!
+
+  FANNY.
+
+  I'll pull the heaeir o'n, I do vow;
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+  I'll pull the ears o'n. There.
+
+  THE DOG.
+
+                                 Wowh! wow!
+
+  FANNY.
+
+  A-comen up the drong,
+  How he did smack his leather thong,
+  A-zingen, as he thought, a zong;
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+  An' there the pigs did scote
+  Azide, in fright, wi' squeaken droat,
+  Wi' geese a pitchen up a note.
+  Look there.
+
+  FANNY.
+
+               His chair!
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+                            He thump'd en down,
+  As if he'd het en into ground.
+
+  RACKETEN JOE.
+
+  Heigh! heigh! Look here! the vier is out.
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+  How he do knock the tongs about!
+
+  FANNY.
+
+  Now theaere's his whip-nob, plum
+  Upon the teaeble vor a drum;
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+  An' there's a dent so big's your thumb.
+
+  RACKETEN JOE.
+
+  My hat's awore so quaer.
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+  'Tis quaer enough, but not wi' wear;
+  But dabs an' dashes he do bear.
+
+  RACKETEN JOE.
+
+  The zow!
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+           What now?
+
+  RACKETEN JOE.
+
+                     She's in the plot.
+  A-routen 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.
+
+  RACKETEN JOE.
+
+  She's out.
+
+  FANNY.
+
+              Noo doubt.
+
+  HIS SISTER.
+
+                          Athirt the bank,
+  Look! how the dog an' he do pank.
+
+  FANNY.
+
+  Stay out, an' heed her now an' then,
+  To zee she don't come in ageaen.
+
+
+
+
+ZUMMER AN' WINTER.
+
+
+  When I led by zummer streams
+    The pride o' Lea, as naighbours thought her,
+  While the zun, wi' evenen beams,
+    Did cast our sheaedes athirt the water;
+          Winds a-blowen,
+          Streams a-flowen,
+          Skies a-glowen,
+  Tokens ov my jay zoo fleeten,
+  Heighten'd it, that happy meeten.
+
+  Then, when maid an' man took pleaeces,
+   Gay in winter's Chris'mas dances,
+  Showen in their merry feaeces
+    Kindly smiles an' glisnen glances;
+          Stars a-winken,
+          Day a-shrinken,
+          Sheaedes a-zinken,
+  Brought anew the happy meeten,
+  That did meake the night too fleeten.
+
+
+
+
+TO ME.
+
+
+  At night, as drough the meaed I took my way,
+  In air a-sweeten'd by the new-meaede hay,
+  A stream a-vallen 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 evenen darkness, an' the risen hill,
+  Kept all the quiv'ren leaves unshown to me,
+
+  Within the copse, below the zunless sky,
+  I heaerd a nightengeaele, a-warblen high
+  Her lwoansome zong, a-hidden vrom my zight,
+  An' showen nothen but her mwoan to me.
+
+  An' by a house, where rwoses hung avore
+  The thatch-brow'd window, an' the oben door,
+  I heaerd the merry words, an' hearty laugh
+  O' zome feaeir maid, as eet unknown to me.
+
+  High over head the white-rimm'd clouds went on,
+  Wi' woone a-comen up, vor woone a-gone;
+  An' feaeir they floated in their sky-back'd flight,
+  But still they never meaede a sound to me.
+
+  An' there the miller, down the stream did float
+  Wi' all his childern, in his white-sail'd bwoat,
+  Vur off, beyond the stragglen cows in meaed,
+  But zent noo vaice, athirt the ground, to me.
+
+  An' then a buttervlee, in zultry light,
+  A-wheelen on about me, vier-bright,
+  Did show the gayest colors to my eye,
+  But still did bring noo vaice around to me.
+
+  I met the merry laugher on the down,
+  Bezide her mother, on the path to town,
+  An' oh! her sheaepe wer comely to the zight,
+  But wordless then wer she a-vound to me.
+
+  Zoo, sweet ov unzeen things mid be sound,
+  An' feaeir to zight mid soundless things be vound,
+  But I've the laugh to hear, an' feaece to zee,
+  Vor they be now my own, a-bound to me.
+
+
+
+
+TWO AN' TWO.
+
+
+  The zun, O Jessie, while his feaece do rise
+    In vi'ry skies, a-shedden out his light
+  On yollow corn a-weaeven down below
+    His yollow glow, is gay avore the zight.
+      By two an' two,
+      How goodly things do goo,
+    A-matchen woone another to fulvill
+    The goodness ov their Meaeker's will.
+
+  How bright the spreaden water in the lew
+    Do catch the blue, a-sheenen vrom the sky;
+  How true the grass do teaeke the dewy bead
+    That it do need, while dousty roads be dry.
+      By peaeir an' peaeir
+      Each thing's a-meaede to sheaere
+    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 sheaede;
+  The air's to bear the bird, the bird's to rise;
+    Vor light the eyes, vor eyes the light's a-meaede.
+      'Tis gi'e an' teaeke,
+      An' woone vor others' seaeke;
+    In peaeirs a-worken 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 rain 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 unmolesten me a-resten,
+      Where I lay 'ithin the lew.
+
+  My wife's bright vier indoors did cast
+    Its fleaeme upon the window peaenes
+  That screen'd her teaeble, while the blast
+    Vled on in music down the leaenes;
+  An' as I zot in vaiceless thought
+  Ov other zummer-tides, that brought
+  The sheenen grass below the lark,
+  Or left their ricks a-wearen 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 leaeve the childern, big or small;
+  But He that meaede the wind, an' meaede
+  The lewth, an' zent wi' het the sheaede,
+  Can keep my childern, all alwone
+  O' under me, an' though vull grown
+  Or little lispers, wi' their whispers,
+      There a-lyen in the lew.
+
+
+
+
+THE WIND IN WOONE'S FEAeCE.
+
+
+  There lovely Jenny past,
+    While the blast did blow
+  On over Ashknowle Hill
+    To the mill below;
+  A-blinken quick, wi' lashes long,
+    Above her cheaeks o' red,
+  Ageaen the wind, a-beaeten strong,
+    Upon her droopen head.
+
+  Oh! let dry win' blow bleaek,
+    On her cheaek so heaele,
+  But let noo rain-shot chill
+    Meaeke her ill an' peaele;
+  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-heaeir
+    Ov my feaeirest dear;
+  An' mid noo unkind deed o' mine
+    Spweil what my love mid gain,
+  Nor meaeke my merry Jenny pine
+    At last wi' dim-ey'd pain.
+
+
+
+
+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 ageaen the mwoldren door
+    'S a token 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 Meaery gi'e
+  Thaet she'd a-liv'd, an' liv'd vor me,
+  But things a-done vor thought an' view?
+  Good things that nwone ageaen 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 haulen
+    Now vrom grey's a-feaeded dark,
+  An' off the barken rail's a-vallen,
+    Day by day, the rotten bark.--
+  But short's the time our works do stand,
+  So feaeir's we put em out ov hand,
+  Vor time a-passen, wet an' dry,
+  Do spweil em wi' his changen sky,
+  The while wi' striven hope, we men,
+    Though a-ruen time's undoen,
+  Still do tweil an' tweil ageaen.
+
+  In wall-zide sheaedes, by leafy bowers,
+    Underneath the swayen tree,
+  O' leaete, as round the bloomen flowers,
+    Lowly humm'd the giddy bee,
+  My childern's small left voot did smite
+  Their tiny speaede, the while the right
+  Did trample on a deaeisy head,
+  Bezide the flower's dousty bed,
+  An' though their work wer idle then,
+    They a-smilen, an' a-tweilen,
+  Still did work an' work ageaen.
+
+  Now their little limbs be stronger,
+    Deeper now their vaice do sound;
+  An' their little veet be longer,
+    An' do tread on other ground;
+  An' rust is on the little bleaedes
+    Ov all the broken-hafted speaedes,
+  An' flow'rs that wer my hope an' pride
+  Ha' long agoo a-bloom'd an' died,
+  But still as I did leaebor then
+    Vor love ov all them childern small,
+  Zoo now I'll tweil an' tweil ageaen.
+
+  When the smokeless tun's a-growen
+    Cwold as dew below the stars,
+  An' when the vier noo mwore's a-glowen
+    Red between the window bars,
+  We then do lay our weary heads
+  In peace upon their nightly beds,
+  An' gi'e woone sock, wi' heaven 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 ageaen.
+
+  Where the vaice o' the winds is mildest,
+    In the plain, their stroke is keen;
+  Where their dreatnen vaice is wildest,
+    In the grove, the grove's our screen.
+  An' where the worold in their strife
+  Do dreaten mwost our tweilsome life,
+  Why there Almighty ceaere mid cast
+  A better screen ageaen the blast.
+  Zoo I woon't live in fear o' men,
+    But, man-neglected, God-directed,
+  Still wull tweil an' tweil ageaen.
+
+
+
+
+FANCY.
+
+
+   In stillness we ha' words to hear,
+    An' sheaepes to zee in darkest night,
+  An' tongues a-lost can hail 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' weaesten life's slow-beaten track.
+
+  When feaeden leaves do drip wi' rain,
+    Our thoughts can ramble in the dry;
+  When Winter win' do zweep the plain
+    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 pain our thoughts can pass to eaese,
+    In work our souls can be at play,
+  An' leaeve behind the chilly leaese
+    Vor warm-air'd meaeds o' new mow'd hay.
+  When we do vlee in Fancy's flight
+    Vrom daily ills avore our feaece,
+    An' linger in zome happy pleaece
+  Ov me'th an' smiles, an' warmth an' light.
+
+
+
+
+THE BROKEN HEART.
+
+
+  News o' grief had overteaeken
+  Dark-ey'd Fanny, now vorseaeken;
+  There she zot, wi' breast a-heaven,
+  While vrom zide to zide, wi' grieven,
+  Vell her head, wi' tears a-creepen
+  Down her cheaeks, in bitter weepen.
+  There wer still the ribbon-bow
+  She tied avore her hour ov woe,
+  An' there wer still the han's that tied it
+          Hangen white,
+          Or wringen tight,
+  In ceaere that drown'd all ceaere bezide it.
+
+  When a man, wi' heartless slighten,
+  Mid become a maiden's blighten,
+  He mid ceaerlessly vorseaeke her,
+  But must answer to her Meaeker;
+  He mid slight, wi' selfish blindness,
+  All her deeds o' loven-kindness,
+  God wull waigh em wi' the slighten
+  That mid be her love's requiten;
+  He do look on each deceiver,
+          He do know
+          What weight o' woe
+  Do breaek the heart ov ev'ry griever.
+
+
+
+
+EVENEN LIGHT.
+
+
+  The while I took my bit o' rest,
+    Below my house's eastern sheaede,
+    The things that stood in vield an' gleaede
+  Wer bright in zunsheen vrom the west.
+    There bright wer east-ward mound an' wall,
+    An' bright wer trees, arisen 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 evenen dusk did gather slow;
+    But bright did gleaere the twinklen spwokes
+    O' runnen 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 ageaen his feaece mid rise,
+    A-sheenen vrom the eastern skies
+  To brighten up the rwose-borne dew;
+    But still his lingren light did gi'e
+    My heart a touchen jay, to zee
+  His beams a-shed, wi' stratchen sheaede,
+    On east-ward wall an' tree.
+
+  When jay, a-zent me vrom above,
+    Vrom my sad heart is now agone,
+   An' others be a-walken on,
+  Amid the light ov Heaven's love,
+    Oh! then vor loven-kindness seaeke,
+    Mid I rejaeice that zome do teaeke
+  My hopes a-gone, until ageaen
+    My happy dawn do breaek.
+
+
+
+
+VIELDS BY WATERVALLS.
+
+
+  When our downcast looks be smileless,
+    Under others' wrongs an' slightens,
+  When our daily deeds be guileless,
+    An' do meet unkind requitens,
+  You can meaeke us zome amends
+  Vor wrongs o' foes, an' slights o' friends;--
+  O flow'ry-gleaeded, timber-sheaeded
+  Vields by flowen watervalls!
+
+  Here be softest airs a-blowen
+    Drough the boughs, wi' zingen drushes,
+  Up above the streams, a-flowen
+    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 flowen watervalls.
+
+  Waters, wi' their giddy rollens;
+    Breezes wi' their playsome wooens;
+  Here do heal, in soft consolens,
+    Hearts a-wrung wi' man's wrong doens.
+  Day do come to us as gay
+  As to a king ov widest sway,
+  In deaeisy-whiten'd, gil'cup-brighten'd
+  Vields by flowen watervalls.
+
+  Zome feaeir buds mid outlive blightens,
+    Zome sweet hopes mid outlive sorrow.
+  After days of wrongs an' slightens
+    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 Jeaene, vrom Aunt o' Camwy dell.
+
+  Zoo all the lot o' stuff a-tied
+    Upon the plow, a tidy tod,
+  On gravel-crunchen 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,
+    Astrain'd athirt, an' strain'd along,
+  Down Thornhay's evenen-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-bearen land,
+  When beech-leaves slowly whiver'd down.
+    By evenen 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 ageaen did show vull bright,
+  In two long streaks o' glitt'ren white.
+
+  But when, upon our wedden night,
+    The cart's light wheels, a-rollen round,
+  Brought Jenny hwome, they run too light
+   To mark the yielden ground;
+  Or welcome would be vound a peaeir
+  O' green-vill'd routs a-runnen there.
+
+  Zoo let me never bring 'ithin
+    My dwellen 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
+  Wi' leaves, wi' grass, wi' groun' wi' snow.
+
+
+
+
+NANNY'S NEW ABODE.
+
+
+  Now day by day, at lofty height,
+    O zummer noons, the burnen zun
+  'Ve a-show'd avore our eastward zight,
+    The sky-blue zide ov Hameldon,
+  An' shone ageaen, on new-mow'd ground,
+    Wi' hay a-piled up grey in pook,
+  An' down on leaezes, bennet-brown'd,
+    An' wheat a-vell avore the hook;
+  Till, under elems tall,
+    The leaves do lie on leaenen lands,
+  In leaeter 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-weaeven by the brink
+    O' shallow brooks, do slowly die.
+  An' on the timber tall,
+    The boughs, half beaere, do bend above
+  The bulgen banks in Fall.
+
+  There, we'd a spring o' water near,
+    Here, water's deep in wink-drain'd wells,
+  The church 'tis true, is nigh out here,
+    Too nigh wi' vive loud-boomen bells.
+  There, naighbours wer vull wide a-spread,
+    But vo'k be here too clwose a-stow'd.
+  Vor childern now do stun woone's head,
+    Wi' naisy play bezide the road,
+  Where big so well as small,
+    The little lad, an' lump'ren lout,
+  Do leaep an' laugh theaese Fall.
+
+
+
+
+LEAVES A-VALLEN.
+
+
+  There the ash-tree leaves do vall
+    In the wind a-blowen 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 vaices or their me'th.
+
+  There dead ash leaves be a-toss'd
+    In the wind, a-blowen 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 teaeke 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 meaeke woone hour asunder;
+  Woone hour onward, woone hour nigher
+    To the hopeful eastern skies,
+  Where his mornen rim o' vier
+    Soon ageaen shall meet his eyes.
+
+  Leaves be now a-scatter'd round
+    In the wind, a-blowen bleaker,
+  An' if we do walk the ground
+    Wi' our life-strangth woone year weaker.
+  Woone year weaker, woone year nigher
+    To the pleaece 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-smilen, while her lids do rise
+   To show her eyes as bright as dew.
+  An' comely do she look at night,
+  A-dancen in her skirt o' white,
+  An' blushen wi' a rwose o' red
+  Bezide her glossy head.
+
+  Feaeir is the rwose o' blushen hue,
+    Behung wi' dew, in mornen's hour,
+  Feaeir is the rwose, so sweet below
+    The noontide glow, bezide the bow'r.
+  Vull feaeir, an' eet I'd rather zee
+  The rwose a-gather'd off the tree,
+  An' bloomen 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 weanen life,
+    Or maid or wife, be loved and blest.
+  Though I mid never zing anew
+  To neaeme the maid so feaeir an' true,
+  A-blushen, 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 beaeten rock,
+  I still do seem to hear the sound
+  O' weaeves that drove me vrom my track,
+  An' zee my strugglen hopes a-drown'd,
+  An' all my jays a-floated back.
+  By storms a-toss'd, I'll gi'e God praise,
+  Wi' much a-lost I still ha' jays.
+  My peace is rest, my faith is hope,
+  An' freedom's my unbounded scope.
+
+  Vor faith 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 blessens now a-left.
+  What e'th do own, to e'th mid vall,
+  But what's my own my own I'll call,
+  My faith, an' peaece, the gifts o' greaece,
+  An' freedom still to shift my pleaece.
+
+  When I've a-had a tree to screen
+    My meal-rest vrom the high zunn'd-sky,
+  Or ivy-holden wall between
+    My head an' win's a-rustlen by,
+  I had noo call vor han's to bring
+  Their seaev'ry dainties at my nod,
+  But stoop'd a-drinken vrom the spring,
+  An' took my meal, wi' thanks to God,
+  Wi' faith to keep me free o' dread,
+  An' peaece to sleep wi' steadvast head,
+  An' freedom's hands, an' veet unbound
+  To woone man's work, or woone seaeme ground.
+
+
+
+
+FALL TIME.
+
+
+  The gather'd clouds, a-hangen low,
+    Do meaeke the woody ridge look dim;
+  An' rain-vill'd streams do brisker flow,
+    Arisen 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 mornen winds a-blowen keen;
+  When they wer green the moss wer dead,
+    Now they be dead the moss is green.
+  Low the evenen zun do sheen
+      By the boughs,
+  Where the cows do swing their tails
+  Over the merry milkers' pails.
+
+
+
+
+FALL.
+
+
+  Now the yollow zun, a-runnen
+    Daily round a smaller bow,
+  Still wi' cloudless sky's a-zunnen
+   All the sheenen land below.
+    Vewer blossoms now do blow,
+  But the fruit's a-showen
+    Reds an' blues, an' purple hues,
+  By the leaves a-glowen.
+
+  Now the childern be a-pryen
+    Roun' the berried bremble-bow,
+  Zome a-laughen, woone a-cryen
+    Vor the slent her frock do show.
+    Bwoys be out a-pullen low
+  Slooe-boughs, or a-runnen
+    Where, on zides of hazzle-wrides,
+  Nuts do hang a-zunnen.
+
+  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
+  Bloomen 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' maid.
+  But rwose-trees down along the wall,
+    That then wer all the maiden's ceaere,
+  An' all a-trimm'd an' train'd, did bear
+    Their bloomen 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 play to beaet em down.
+  An' where vor years zome busy hand
+    Did train 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-swayen wi' low-ruslen 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-meaede vast,
+    Wer the childern's light swing, a-hung low,
+  An' a-rock'd by the brisk-blowen 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-sheaeken the flow'rs,
+    Aye, the blast the feaeir buds on the ground.
+
+  Oh! the moon, wi' his peaele lighted skies,
+    Have his sorrowless sleepers below.
+  But by day to the zun they must rise
+    To their true lives o' tweil an' ov ho.
+  Then the childern wull rise to their fun,
+    An' their mother mwore sorrow to veel,
+  While the air is a-warm'd by the zun,
+    Aye, the win' by the day's vi'ry wheel.
+
+
+
+
+THE CHILD'S GREAeVE.
+
+
+  Avore the time when zuns went down
+  On zummer's green a-turn'd to brown,
+  When sheaedes o' swayen wheat-eaers vell
+  Upon the scarlet pimpernel;
+  The while you still mid goo, an' vind
+   'Ithin the geaerden's mossy wall,
+    Sweet blossoms, low or risen tall,
+  To meaeke a tutty to your mind,
+  In churchyard heav'd, wi' grassy breast,
+  The greaeve-mound ov a beaeby's rest.
+
+  An' when a high day broke, to call
+  A throng 'ithin the churchyard wall,
+  The mother brought, wi' thoughtvul mind,
+  The feaeirest buds her eyes could vind,
+  To trim the little greaeve, an' show
+    To other souls her love an' loss,
+    An' meaede a Seaevior's little cross
+  O' brightest flow'rs that then did blow,
+  A-droppen tears a-sheenen bright,
+  Among the dew, in mornen light
+
+  An' woone sweet bud her han' did pleaece
+  Up where did droop the Seaevior's feaece;
+  An' two she zet a-bloomen bright,
+  Where reach'd His hands o' left an' right;
+  Two mwore feaeir blossoms, crimson dyed,
+    Did mark the pleaeces ov his veet,
+    An' woone did lie, a-smellen sweet,
+  Up where the spear did wound the zide
+  Ov Him that is the life ov all
+  Greaeve sleepers, whether big or small.
+
+  The mother that in faith could zee
+  The Seaevior on the high cross tree
+  Mid be a-vound a-grieven sore,
+  But not to grieve vor evermwore,
+  Vor He shall show her faithvul mind,
+    His chaice is all that she should choose,
+    An' love that here do grieve to lose,
+  Shall be, above, a jay 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' meaeds did lie, a grassy bed,
+    Vor elem-sheaeden light.
+  The milkmaid by her white-horn'd cow,
+    Wi' pail so white as snow,
+  Did zing below the elem bough
+    A-swayen to an' fro.
+
+  An' there the evenen's low-shot light
+    Did smite the high tree-tops,
+  An' rabbits vrom the grass, in fright,
+    Did leaep 'ithin the copse.
+  An' there the shepherd wi' his crook.
+    An' dog bezide his knee,
+  Went whisslen by, in air that shook
+    The ivy on the tree.
+
+  An' on the hill, ahead, wer bars
+    A-showen dark on high,
+  Avore, as eet, the evenen stars
+    Did twinkle in the sky,
+  An' then the last sweet evenen-tide
+    That my long sheaede vell there,
+  I went down Brindon's thymy zide,
+    To my last sleep at Ware.
+
+
+
+
+THE FANCY FEAeIR AT MAIDEN NEWTON.
+
+
+  The Frome, wi' ever-water'd brink,
+  Do run where shelven hills do zink
+  Wi' housen all a-cluster'd roun'
+  The parish tow'rs below the down.
+  An' now, vor woonce, at leaest, ov all
+  The pleaecen 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 Feaeir
+          Is on at Maiden Newton.
+
+  An' vo'k, a-smarten'd up, wull hop
+  Out here, as ev'ry train do stop,
+  Vrom up the line, a longish ride,
+  An' down along the river-zide.
+  An' zome do beaet, wi' heels an' tooes,
+  The leaenes an' paths, in nimble shoes,
+  An' bring, bezides, a biggish knot,
+  Ov all their childern that can trot,
+          A-vlocken where the Fancy Feaeir
+          Is here at Maiden 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 Feaeir
+          Is on at Maiden Newton.
+
+  Come, young men, come, an' here you'll vind
+  A gift to please a maiden's mind;
+  Come, husbands, here be gifts to please
+  Your wives, an' meaeke em smile vor days;
+  Come, so's, an' buy at Fancy Feaeir
+  A keepseaeke vor your friends elsewhere;
+  You can't but stop an' spend a cwein
+  Wi' leaedies that ha' goods so fine;
+          An' all to meake, vor childern's seaeke,
+          The School at Maiden Newton.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS DO COME ROUND.
+
+
+  Above the leafless hazzle-wride
+    The wind-drove rain did quickly vall,
+  An' on the meaeple's ribby zide
+    Did hang the rain-drops quiv'ren ball;
+  Out where the brook o' foamy yollow
+  Roll'd along the meaed's deep hollow,
+  An' noo birds wer out to beaet,
+  Wi' flappen wings, the vleen wet
+  O' zunless clouds on flow'rless ground.
+  How time do bring the seasons round!
+
+  The moss, a-beaet vrom trees, did lie
+    Upon the ground in ashen droves,
+  An' western wind did huffle high,
+    Above the sheds' quick-drippen oves.
+  An' where the ruslen straw did sound
+    So dry, a-shelter'd in the lew,
+  I staied 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 play, did seem
+    In work o' men to teaeke a peaert,
+  A-dreven on our wild bwoy team,
+    Or lwoaden 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 jays a-lost, an' jays 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 play the merry geaeme,
+    Wi' childern ev'ry holitide,
+  But coulden tell the vaice or neaeme
+    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 pleaece,
+    A husband to a wife's true vow,
+  I never thought by neaeme or feaece
+    O' childern that be round me now.
+  An' now they all do grow vrom small,
+  Drough life's feaeir sheaepes to big an' tall,
+  I still be blind to God's good plan,
+  To pleaece 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 evenen, as I shook
+  My locks ov hay by Leecombe brook.
+  The yollow zun did weakly glance
+  Upon the winter meaed askance,
+  A-casten out my narrow sheaede
+  Athirt the brook, an' on the meaed.
+  The while ageaen my lwonesome ears
+  Did russle weatherbeaeten 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 bleaedes
+  Rung sh'ill along the green-bough'd gleaedes,
+  An' maidens gay, wi' playsome 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-runnen lowly round,
+  Do mark the sheaedes the hedge do cast
+    At noon, in hoarvrost, on the ground,
+  I'm out when snow's a-lyen white
+    In keen-air'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 hangen steep,
+          Or hollow deep,
+                  At Lindenore.
+
+  O welcome is the lewth a-vound
+    By rustlen copse, or ivied bank,
+  Or by the hay-rick, weather-brown'd
+    By barken-grass, a-springen 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 hangen 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 vaices vull or thin,
+  A prayen vor the souls vur out
+    At sea, an' cry wi' bibb'ren 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-swingen on the tree,
+  An' beaeten weaeves below.
+  Zee how the tweilen vo'k do bend
+    Upon their windward track,
+  Wi' ev'ry string, an' garment's end,
+    A-flutt'ren 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' weaeves do sheen below;
+  An' neaeked stems o' wood in hedge
+    Do gleaem in streaeks o' light,
+  An' rocks do gleaere upon the ledge
+    O' yonder zunny height,
+  "No, Jeaene, wi' trials now withdrawn,
+  Lik' darkness at a happy dawn."
+    I cried, "Noo mwore despair;
+  Wi' our lost peace ageaen a-vound,
+    'Tis wrong to harbour ceaere."
+
+
+
+
+SLIDEN.
+
+
+          When wind wer keen,
+          Where ivy-green
+          Did clwosely wind
+          Roun' woak-tree rind,
+          An' ice shone bright,
+  An' meaeds wer white, wi' thin-spread snow
+    Then on the pond, a-spreaden wide,
+    We bwoys did zweep along the slide,
+  A-striken on in merry row.
+
+          There ruddy-feaeced,
+          In busy heaeste,
+          We all did wag
+          A spanken lag,
+          To win good speed,
+  When we, straight-knee'd, wi' foreright tooes,
+    Should shoot along the slipp'ry track,
+    Wi' grinden sound, a-getten slack,
+  The slower went our clumpen shoes.
+
+          Vor zome slow chap,
+          Did teaeke 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 laughen crew.
+
+          As to an' fro,
+          In merry row,
+          We all went round
+          On ice, on ground
+          The maidens nigh
+  A-stannen shy, did zee us slide,
+    An' in their eaeprons small, did vwold
+    Their little hands, a-got red-cwold,
+  Or slide on ice o' two veet wide.
+
+          By leafless copse,
+          An' beaere tree-tops,
+          An' zun's low beams,
+          An' ice-boun' streams,
+          An' vrost-boun' mill,
+  A-stannen still. Come wind, blow on,
+    An' gi'e the bwoys, this Chris'mas tide,
+    The glitt'ren ice to meaeke 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-sheaeden bow
+    Do hang in leaf, an' win'-blow'd flow'rs,
+  Avore my lwonesome eyes do show
+    Theaese bright November hours.
+  Avore my lwonesome eyes do show
+  Wi' nwone but I to zee em blow.
+
+  The sheaedes o' leafy buds, avore
+    The peaenes, do sheaeke 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-stirren nothen mwore.
+
+  This win' mid dreve upon the main,
+    My brother's ship, a-plowen foam,
+  But not bring mother, cwold, nor rain,
+    At her now happy hwome.
+  But not bring mother, cwold, nor rain,
+  Where she is out o' pain.
+
+  Zoo now that I'm a-mwopen dumb,
+    A-keepen 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 peaele-twinklen stars,
+  All a-zweepen along the white snow;
+    On the groun', on the trees, on the bars,
+  Vrom the hedge where the win' russled drough,
+    There a light-russlen snow-doust did vall;
+  An' noo pleaece 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-comen 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-bloomen feaece,
+  An' she blink'd wi' her head all a-zide,
+    An' a-chucklen, went back to her pleaece.
+
+  An' in there, as we zot roun' the brands,
+    Though the talkers wer mainly the men,
+  Bloomen Jeaene, wi' her work in her hands,
+    Did put in a good word now an' then.
+  An' when I took my leave, though so bleaek
+    Wer the weather, she went to the door,
+  Wi' a smile, an' a blush on the cheaek
+    That the snow had a-smitten avore.
+
+
+
+
+THE YEAR-CLOCK.
+
+
+  We zot bezide the leaefy wall,
+  Upon the bench at evenfall,
+  While aunt led off our minds vrom ceaere
+  Wi' veaeiry teaeles, I can't tell where:
+  An' vound us woone among her stock
+  O' feaebles, o' the girt Year-clock.
+  His feaece wer blue's the zummer skies,
+  An' wide's the zight o' looken eyes,
+  For hands, a zun wi' glowen feaece,
+  An' peaeler moon wi' swifter peaece,
+  Did wheel by stars o' twinklen light,
+  By bright-wall'd day, an' dark-treed night;
+  An' down upon the high-sky'd land,
+  A-reachen wide, on either hand,
+  Wer hill an' dell wi' win'-sway'd trees,
+  An' lights a-zweepen over seas,
+  An' gleamen cliffs, an' bright-wall'd tow'rs,
+  Wi' sheaedes a-marken on the hours;
+  An' as the feaece, a-rollen round,
+  Brought comely sheaepes along the ground.
+  The Spring did come in winsome steaete
+  Below a glowen rainbow geaete;
+  An' fan wi' air a-blowen weak,
+  Her glossy heaeir, an' rwosy cheaek,
+  As she did shed vrom oben hand,
+  The leaepen zeed on vurrow'd land;
+  The while the rook, wi' heaesty flight,
+  A-floaten in the glowen 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-sheaer'd beam,
+  Avore the weaery oxen team,
+  Wi' Spring a-gone there come behind
+  Sweet Zummer, jay ov ev'ry mind,
+  Wi' feaece a-beamen to beguile
+  Our weaery souls ov ev'ry tweil.
+  While birds did warble in the dell
+  In softest air o' sweetest smell;
+  An' she, so winsome-feaeir 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' sheaepes o' buttervlees in flight.
+  When Zummer went, the next ov all
+  Did come the sheaepe o' brown-feaec'd Fall,
+  A-smilen in a comely gown
+  O' green, a-shot wi' yellow-brown,
+  A-border'd wi' a goolden stripe
+  O' fringe, a-meaede o' corn-ears ripe,
+  An' up ageaen her comely zide,
+  Upon her rounded eaerm, 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 Leaebor there did come
+  A-zingen 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 ageaen to mild-feaec'd Fall
+  Did come peaele Winter, last ov all,
+  A-benden down, in thoughtvul mood,
+  Her head 'ithin a snow-white hood
+  A-deck'd wi' icy-jewels, bright
+  An' cwold as twinklen stars o' night;
+  An' there wer weary Leaebor, slack
+  O' veet to keep her vrozen track,
+  A-looken off, wi' wistful eyes,
+  To reefs o' smoke, that there did rise
+  A-melten to the peaele-feaec'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-rollen round
+  'Ithout a beaet, 'ithout a sound.
+
+
+
+
+NOT GOO HWOME TO-NIGHT.
+
+
+  No, no, why you've noo wife at hwome
+  Abiden up till you do come,
+  Zoo leaeve your hat upon the pin,
+  Vor I'm your waiter. 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-stannen still,
+  The sleepen 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' neaeked trees, the purple wood,
+  The scarlet hunter's ho'ses veet
+  Tore up the sheaeken ground, wind-fleet,
+  Wi' reachen heads, an' panken hides;
+  The while the flat-wing'd rooks in vlock.
+  Did zwim a-sheenen 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 hufflen win' do blow,
+  A-whirlen down the giddy snow:
+  Zee how the sky's a-weaeren dim,
+  Behind the elem's neaeked lim'.
+  That there do leaen above the leaene:
+  Zoo teaeke your pleaece bezide the dogs,
+  An' sip a drop o' hwome-brew'd eaele,
+  An' zing your zong or tell your teaele,
+  While I do bait the vier wi' logs.
+  No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night,
+  Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill.
+
+  Your meaere's in steaeble wi' her hocks
+  In straw above her vetterlocks,
+  A-reachen up her meaeney neck,
+  An' pullen down good hay vrom reck,
+  A-meaeken slight o' snow an' sleet;
+  She don't want you upon her back,
+  To vall upon the slippery stwones
+  On Hollyhuel, 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-sounden up at ev'ry door.
+  But now a bow do never screaepe
+    A humstrum, any where all round,
+  An' zome can't tell a humstrum's sheaepe,
+    An' never heaerd his jinglen 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'ren, zide by zide,
+  Above the humstrum's hollow back.
+  An' there the bwoy, wi' bended stick,
+    A-strung wi' heaeir, to meaeke a bow,
+  Did dreve his elbow, light'nen 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 jinglen sound,
+  The merry maid, a-scrubben round
+  Her white-steaev'd pail, did stop her brush.
+  The mis'ess there, vor wold time's seaeke,
+    Had gifts to gi'e, and smiles to show,
+  An' meaester, too, did stan' an' sheaeke
+    His two broad zides, a-chucklen low,
+  While _ing-an-ing_ did ring the string,
+  While _ang-an-ang_ the wires did clang.
+
+  The players' pockets wer a-strout,
+  Wi' wold brown pence, a-rottlen in,
+  Their zwangen 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-runnen 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 FEAeIR.
+
+
+  When hillborne Paladore did show
+  So bright to me down miles below.
+  As woonce the zun, a-rollen west,
+  Did brighten up his hill's high breast.
+  Wi' walls a-looken dazzlen white,
+  Or yollow, on the grey-topp'd height
+  Of Paladore, as peaele day wore
+          Away so feaeir.
+  Oh! how I wish'd that I wer there.
+
+  The pleaece wer too vur off to spy
+  The liven vo'k a-passen by;
+  The vo'k too vur vor air 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 peaele day wore
+          Away so feaeir;
+  But how I wish'd that I wer there.
+
+  But when I clomb the lofty ground
+  Where liven veet an' tongues did sound,
+  At feaeir, bezide your bloomen feaece,
+  The pertiest in all the pleaece,
+  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 feaeir.
+
+  Since vu'st I trod thik steep hill-zide
+  My grieven soul 'v a-been a-tried
+  Wi' pain, an' loss o' worldly geaer,
+  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 feaeir.
+
+  The wold brown meaere'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 feaeir upon the new green cart,
+  An' teaeke our little Poll between
+  Our zides, as proud's a little queen,
+  To Paladore. Aye, Poll a dear,
+          Vor now 'tis feaeir,
+  An' she's a longen to goo there.
+
+  While Paladore, on watch, do strain
+  Her eyes to Blackmwore's blue-hill'd plaein,
+  While Duncliffe is the traveller's mark,
+  Or cloty Stour's a-rollen dark;
+  Or while our bells do call, vor greaece,
+  The vo'k avore their Seaevior's feaece,
+  Mid Paladore, an' Poll a dear,
+          Vor ever know
+  O' peaece an' plenty down below.
+
+
+
+
+THE BEAeTEN PATH.
+
+
+  The beaeten path where vo'k do meet
+    A-comen on vrom vur an' near;
+  How many errands had the veet
+    That wore en out along so clear!
+  Where eegrass bleaedes be green in meaed,
+    Where bennets up the leaeze be brown,
+  An' where the timber bridge do leaed
+    Athirt the cloty brook to town,
+  Along the path by mile an' mile,
+  Athirt the yield, an' brook, an' stile,
+
+  There runnen childern's hearty laugh
+    Do come an' vlee along--win' swift:
+  The wold man's glossy-knobbed staff
+    Do help his veet so hard to lift;
+  The maid do bear her basket by,
+    A-hangen at her breaethen zide;
+  An' ceaereless young men, straight an' spry,
+    Do whissle hwome at eventide,
+  Along the path, a-reachen by
+  Below tall trees an' oben sky.
+
+  There woone do goo to jay a-head;
+    Another's jay'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-teaeken on,
+  As he that leaetely vrom abroad
+    Come hwome to seek his love a-gone,
+  Noo mwore to tread, wi' comely eaese,
+  The beaeten path athirt the leaeze.
+
+  In tweilsome hardships, year by year,
+    He drough the worold wander'd wide,
+  Still bent, in mind, both vur an' near
+    To come an' meaeke his love his bride.
+  An' passen here drough evenen dew
+    He heaesten'd, happy, to her door,
+  But vound the wold vo'k only two,
+    Wi' noo mwore vootsteps on the vloor,
+  To walk ageaen below the skies,
+  Where beaeten paths do vall an' rise;
+
+  Vor she wer gone vrom e'thly eyes
+    To be a-kept in darksome sleep,
+  Until the good ageaen do rise
+    A-jay to souls they left to weep.
+  The rwose wer doust that bound her brow;
+    The moth did eat her Zunday ceaepe;
+  Her frock wer out o' fashion now;
+    Her shoes wer dried up out o' sheaepe--
+  The shoes that woonce did glitter black
+  Along the leaezes beaeten track.
+
+
+
+
+RUTH A-RIDEN.
+
+
+  Ov all the roads that ever bridge
+    Did bear athirt a river's feaece,
+  Or ho'ses up an' down the ridge
+    Did wear to doust at ev'ry peaece,
+  I'll teaeke the Stalton leaene to tread,
+  By banks wi' primrwose-beds bespread,
+  An' steaetely elems over head,
+      Where Ruth do come a-riden.
+
+  An' I would rise when vields be grey
+    Wi' mornen dew, avore 'tis dry,
+  An' beaet the doust droughout the day
+    To bluest hills ov all the sky;
+  If there, avore the dusk o' night,
+  The evenen zun, a-sheenen bright,
+  Would pay my leaebors wi' the zight
+      O' Ruth--o' Ruth a-riden.
+
+  Her healthy feaece is rwosy feaeir,
+    She's comely in her gait an' lim',
+  An' sweet's the smile her feaece do wear,
+    Below her cap's well-rounded brim;
+  An' while her skirt's a-spreaeden wide,
+  In vwolds upon the ho'se's zide,
+  He'll toss his head, an' snort wi' pride,
+      To trot wi' Ruth a-riden.
+
+  An' as her ho'se's rottlen peaece
+    Do slacken till his veet do beaet
+  A slower trot, an' till her feaece
+    Do bloom avore the tollman's geaete;
+  Oh! he'd be glad to oben wide
+  His high-back'd geaete, an' stand azide,
+  A-given up his toll wi' pride,
+      Vor zight o' Ruth a-riden.
+
+  An' oh! that Ruth could be my bride,
+    An' I had ho'ses at my will,
+  That I mid teaeke her by my zide,
+    A-riden over dell an' hill;
+  I'd zet wi' pride her litty tooe
+  'Ithin a stirrup, sheenen new,
+  An' leaeve all other jays to goo
+      Along wi' Ruth a-riden.
+
+  If maidens that be weaek an' peaele
+    A-mwopen in the house's sheaede,
+  Would wish to be so blithe and heaele
+    As you did zee young Ruth a-meaede;
+  Then, though the zummer zun mid glow,
+  Or though the Winter win' mid blow,
+  They'd leaep upon the saddle's bow,
+      An' goo, lik' Ruth, a-riden.
+
+  While evenen light do sof'ly gild
+    The moss upon the elem's bark,
+  Avore the zingen bird's a-still'd,
+    Or woods be dim, or day is dark,
+  Wi' quiv'ren grass avore his breast,
+  In cowslip beds, do lie at rest,
+  The ho'se that now do goo the best
+      Wi' rwosy Ruth a-riden.
+
+
+
+
+BEAUTY UNDECKED.
+
+
+  The grass mid sheen when wat'ry beaeds
+  O' dew do glitter on the meaeds,
+  An' thorns be bright when quiv'ren studs
+  O' rain do hang upon their buds--
+  As jewels be a-meaede by art
+  To zet the plainest vo'k off smart.
+
+  But sheaeken ivy on its tree,
+  An' low-bough'd laurel at our knee,
+  Be bright all day, without the gleaere,
+  O' drops that duller leaeves mid weaer--
+  As Jeaene is feaeir to look upon
+  In plainest gear that she can don.
+
+
+
+
+MY LOVE IS GOOD.
+
+
+  My love is good, my love is feaeir,
+    She's comely to behold, O,
+  In ev'rything that she do wear,
+    Altho' 'tis new or wold, O.
+  My heart do leaep to see her walk,
+    So straight do step her veet, O,
+  My tongue is dum' to hear her talk,
+    Her vaice 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 feaeirest to my zight, O,
+  Till she do stan' an' I do deem,
+    She's feaeirest at her height, O.
+  An' she do seem 'ithin a room
+    The feaeirest on a floor, O,
+  Till I ageaen do zee her bloom
+    Still feaeirer out o' door, O.
+  Where flow'ry groun' wi' floor o' green
+  Do bear but vew, so good an' true.
+
+  An' when the deaeisies be a-press'd
+    Below her vootsteps waight, O,
+  Do seem as if she look'd the best
+    Ov all in walken gait, O.
+  Till I do zee her zit upright
+    Behind the ho'ses neck, O,
+  A-holden wi' the rain so tight
+    His tossen 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 leaeser 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 gay to my eyes,
+  Where her feaeir feaece did arise,
+  She noo mwore thought upon my thoughts,
+    Than the high moon in the skies.
+
+  Oh! I vu'st heaerd her a-zingen,
+    As a sweet bird on a tree,
+  Though her zingen wer my pleasure,
+    'Twer noo zong she zung to me.
+  Though her sweet vaice that wer nigh,
+  Meaede 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-weepen,
+    As a rain-dimm'd mornen sky,
+  Though her teaer-draps dimm'd her blushes,
+    They wer noo draps I could dry.
+  Ev'ry bright tear that did roll,
+  Wer a keen pain to my soul,
+  But noo heaert'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-meaede her.
+    As an angel at my zide;
+  I've her best smiles that mid play,
+  I've her me'th when she is gay,
+  When her tear-draps be a-rollen,
+  I can now wipe em away.
+
+
+
+
+THE DO'SET MILITIA.
+
+
+  Hurrah! my lads, vor Do'set men!
+  A-muster'd here in red ageaen;
+  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'rens 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 loppen limbs a-tired,
+  An you be dry an' burnen hot,
+  Why here's your tea an' coffee pot
+  At Mister Greenen'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."
+
+  Jeaene Hart, that's Joey Duntley's chaice,
+  Do praise en up wi' her sweet vaice,
+  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' Jeaene do write, an' brag o' Joe
+  To teaeke 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, toppen 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-playen up their notes,
+  An' all the men vrom vur an' near
+  We'll gi'e em all a hearty cheer.
+  An' then another cheeren 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 theaese 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 didden buy.
+      I don't want _vuzzen_, now. Not I.
+      Why _firs_ an' _furze_ do sound the seaeme.
+      Why don't ye gi'e a thing his neaeme?
+      Aye, _firs_ and _furze_! Why, who can tell
+      Which 'tis that you do meaen to zell?
+      No, no, be kind enough to call
+      Em _virs_, and _vuzzen_, then, that's all.
+
+
+
+
+DON'T CEAeRE.
+
+
+  At the feaest, I do mind very well, all the vo'ks
+    Wer a-took in a happeren storm,
+  But we chaps took the maidens, an' kept em wi' clokes
+    Under shelter, all dry an' all warm;
+  An' to my lot vell Jeaene, 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 ceaere if they do."
+  When the time o' the feaest wer ageaen 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 seaefely hwome to her door.
+  Zaid her mother, "'Tis sure to be wet."
+  Zaid her cousin, "'T'ull rain by zunzet."
+  Zaid her aunt, "Why the clouds there do look black an' blue,"
+  An' zaid she, "I don't ceaere if they do."
+
+  An' at last, when she own'd I mid meaeke her my bride,
+    Vor to help me, an' sheaere all my lot,
+  An' wi' faithvulness keep all her life at my zide,
+    Though my way mid be happy or not.
+  Zaid her naighbours, "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 ceaere 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 feaece 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 ceaere if they do."
+
+  Now vor me I can zing in my business abrode,
+    Though the storm do beaet down on my poll,
+  There's a wife-brighten'd vier at the end o' my road,
+    An' her love vor the jay o' my soul.
+  Out o' door I wi' rogues mid be tried:
+  Out o' door be brow-beaeten wi' pride;
+  Men mid scowl out o' door, if my wife is but true--
+  Let em scowl, "I don't ceaere if they do."
+
+
+
+
+CHANGES.
+
+
+  By time's a-brought the mornen light,
+    By time the light do weaene;
+  By time's a-brought the young man's might,
+    By time his might do weaene;
+  The Winter snow do whiten grass,
+  The zummer flow'rs do brighten grass,
+  Vor zome things we do lose wi' pain,
+  We've mwore that mid be jay to gain,
+  An' my dear life do seem the seaeme
+        While at my zide
+        There still do bide
+  Your welcome feaece an' hwomely neaeme.
+
+  Wi' ev'ry day that woonce come on
+    I had to choose a jay,
+  Wi' many that be since a-gone
+    I had to lose a jay.
+  Drough longsome years a-wanderen,
+  Drough lwonesome rest a-ponderen,
+  Woone peaceful daytime wer a-bro't
+  To heal the heart another smote;
+  But my dear life do seem the seaeme
+        While I can hear,
+        A-sounden near,
+  Your answ'ren vaice an' long-call'd neaeme.
+
+  An' oh! that hope, when life do dawn,
+    Should rise to light our way,
+  An' then, wi' weaenen het withdrawn,
+    Should soon benight our way.
+  Whatever mid beval me still,
+  Wherever chance mid call me still,
+  Though leaete my evenen tweil mid cease,
+  An' though my night mid lose its peace,
+  My life will seem to me the seaeme
+        While you do sheaere
+        My daily ceaere,
+  An' answer to your long-call'd neaeme.
+
+
+
+
+KINDNESS.
+
+
+  Good Meaester Collins heaerd woone day
+  A man a-talken, that did zay
+  It woulden answer to be kind,
+  He thought, to vo'k o' grov'len mind,
+  Vor they would only teaeke 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 remain
+  As thankless as the sea vor rain,
+  On them the good's a-lost 'tis true,
+  But never can be lost to you.
+  Look on the cool-feaeced moon at night
+  Wi' light-vull ring, at utmost height,
+  A-casten down, in gleamen strokes,
+  His beams upon the dim-bough'd woaks,
+  To show the cliff a-risen steep,
+  To show the stream a-vallen deep,
+  To show where winden roads do leaed,
+  An' prickly thorns do ward the meaed.
+  While sheaedes o' boughs do flutter dark
+  Upon the woak-trees' moon-bright bark.
+  There in the lewth, below the hill,
+  The nightengeaele, wi' ringen bill,
+  Do zing among the soft-air'd groves,
+  While up below the house's oves
+  The maid, a-looken vrom her room
+  Drough window, in her youthvul bloom,
+  Do listen, wi' white ears among
+  Her glossy heaeirlocks, to the zong.
+  If, then, the while the moon do light
+  The lwonesome zinger o' the night,
+  His cwold-beam'd light do seem to show
+  The prowlen owls the mouse below.
+  What then? Because an evil will,
+  Ov his sweet good, mid meaeke zome ill,
+  Shall all his feaece be kept behind
+  The dark-brow'd hills to leaeve 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 feaer,
+  If selfishness do wring us here,
+  Be souls a-holden in their hand,
+  The might an' riches o' the land.
+
+  But when the wicked, now so strong,
+    Shall stan' vor judgment, peaele as ashes,
+  By the souls that rued their wrong,
+    Wi' tears a-hangen on their lashes--
+  Then withstanders they shall deaere
+  The leaest 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' forgen;
+  Souls o' driven sleaeves that left
+    Their weaery limbs a-mark'd by scourgen;
+  They that God ha' call'd to die
+  Vor truth ageaen the worold's lie,
+  An' they that groan'd an' cried in vain,
+  A-bound by foes' unrighteous chain.
+
+  The maid that selfish craft led on
+    To sin, an' left wi' hope a-blighted;
+  Starven workmen, thin an' wan,
+    Wi' hopeless leaebour 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 Seaeviour,
+  Vor all their flesh noo mwore mid show,
+    The marks o' man's unkind beheaeviour:
+  Wi' speechless tongue, an' burnen cheak,
+  The strong shall bow avore the weaek,
+  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 naighbours 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 meaeke it out.
+
+  Wi' narrow feaece, an' nose so thin
+  That light a'most shone drough the skin,
+  As he did talk, wi' his red peaeir
+  O' lips, an' his vull eyes did steaere,
+    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 outlandish 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 mornen 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' looken on an' off the ea'th,
+  He cried, a-drawen a vull breath,
+    Why, I do know; what, can't ye zee 't?
+  I'll bet a shillen 'twer a deer
+  Broke out o' park, an' sprung on here,
+    Wi' quoits upon his veet.
+
+
+
+
+TURNEN THINGS OFF.
+
+
+  Upzides wi' Polly! no, he'd vind
+  That Poll would soon leaeve 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 steaeirs
+  On merry Polly unaweaeres,
+  The while her nimble tongue did run
+  A-tellen, all alive wi' fun,
+  To sister Anne, how Simon Heaere
+  Did hanker after her at feaeir.
+  "He left," cried Polly, "cousin Jeaene,
+  An' kept wi' us all down the leaene,
+  An' which way ever we did leaed
+  He vollow'd over hill an' meaed;
+  An' wi' his head o' shaggy heaeir,
+  An' sleek brown cwoat that he do weaere,
+  An' collar that did reach so high
+  'S his two red ears, or perty nigh,
+  He swung his taeil, wi' steps o' pride,
+  Back right an' left, vrom zide to zide,
+  A-walken 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 Heaere," 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 evenen as she zot bezide
+  The wall the ranglen vine do hide,
+  A-prattlen 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 overheaerd her talk ageaen
+  O' Robin Hine, ov Ivy Leaene,
+  "Oh! no, what he!" she cried in scorn,
+  "I woulden gie a penny vor'n;
+  The best ov him's outzide in view;
+  His cwoat is gay enough, 'tis true,
+  But then the wold vo'k didden bring
+  En up to know a single thing,
+  An' as vor zingen,--what do seem
+  His zingen's nothen but a scream."
+  "So ho!" cried Jim, "Who's that, then, Meaery,
+  That you be now a-talken o'?"
+  He thought to catch her then, but, no,
+  Cried Polly, "Oh! why Jeaene's caneaery,
+  Wi' what have you a-been misled,
+  I wonder. Tell me what I zaid."
+
+
+
+
+THE GIANTS IN TREAeDES.
+
+GRAMFER'S FEAeBLE.
+
+(_How the steam engine come about._)
+
+
+  _Vier, Air, E'th, Water_, wer a-meaede
+  Good workers, each o'm in his treaede,
+  An' _Air_ an' _Water_, wer a-match
+    Vor woone another in a mill;
+  The giant _Water_ at a hatch,
+    An' _Air_ on the windmill hill.
+  Zoo then, when _Water_ had a-meaede
+  Zome money, _Aeir_ begrudg'd his treaede,
+  An' come by, unaweaeres 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 grinden any corn vor bread.
+  Then _Water_ cried to _Vier_, "Alack!
+    Look, here be I, so stiff's a log,
+  Thik fellor _Air_ do keep me back
+    Vrom grinden. 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 neaeme,
+  Vor 'twerden I that wer to bleaeme,
+  I never wagg'd, though I be'nt cringen,
+  Till men did dreve me wi' their engine.
+  Do zet me free vrom theaese cwold jacket,
+  Vor I myzelf shall never crack it."
+  "Well come," cried _Vier_, "My vo'k ha' meaede
+  An engine that 'ull work your treaede.
+  If _E'th_ is only in the mood,
+  While I do work, to gi'e me food,
+  I'll help ye, an' I'll meaeke your skill
+  A match vor Mister _Air'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' theaese 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 meaeke, as sure as death,
+  Thik fellor _Air_ to vind me breath,
+  An' you shall grind, an' pull, an' dreve,
+  An' zaw, an' drash, an' pump, an' heave,
+  An' get vrom _Air_, in time, I'll lay
+  A pound, the dreven 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 peaerts 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 Deaene so good an' feaeir?
+  'Twer wide enough if she wer there.
+
+  In our deep hollow where the zun
+  Did eaerly leaeve the smoky tun,
+  An' all the meaeds a-growen dim,
+  Below the hill wi' zunny rim;
+  Oh! small the land the hills did bound,
+  But there did walk upon the ground
+  Young Fanny Deaene so good an' feaeir:
+  'Twer wide enough if she wer there.
+
+  O' leaete upon the misty plain
+  I stay'd vor shelter vrom the rain,
+  Where sharp-leav'd ashes' heads did twist
+  In hufflen wind, an' driften mist,
+  An' small the worold I could zee;
+  But then it had below the tree
+  My Fanny Deaene so good an' feaeir:
+  'Twer wide enough if she wer there.
+
+  An' I've a house wi' thatchen ridge,
+  Below the elems by the bridge:
+  Wi' small-peaen'd windows, that do look
+  Upon a knap, an' ramblen brook;
+  An' small's my house, my ruf is low,
+  But then who mid it have to show
+  But Fanny Deaene so good an' feaeir?
+  'Tis fine enough if peace is there.
+
+
+
+
+BAD NEWS.
+
+
+  I do mind when there broke bitter tidens,
+      Woone day, on their ears,
+  An' their souls wer a-smote wi' a stroke
+  As the lightnen 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-rollen
+      The white-threaded ball.
+
+  Oh! vor their minds the daylight around em
+      Had nothen to show.
+  Though it brighten'd their tears as they vell,
+  An' did sheen on their lips that did tell,
+  In their vaices all thrillen an' mwoansome,
+      O' nothen 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 eaernest in words o' thanksgiven,
+      Vor mercies anew.
+
+
+
+
+THE TURNSTILE.
+
+
+  Ah! sad wer we as we did peaece
+  The wold church road, wi' downcast feaece,
+  The while the bells, that mwoan'd so deep
+  Above our child a-left asleep,
+  Wer now a-zingen all alive
+  Wi' tother bells to meaeke the vive.
+  But up at woone pleaece we come by,
+  'Twer hard to keep woone's two eyes dry:
+  On Steaen-cliff road, 'ithin the drong,
+  Up where, as vo'k do pass along,
+  The turnen stile, a-painted 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' spreaden eaerms that wheel'd to guide
+  Us each in turn to tother zide.
+  An' vu'st ov all the train he took
+  My wife, wi' winsome gait an' look;
+  An' then zent on my little maid,
+  A-skippen onward, overjay'd
+  To reach ageaen the pleaece o' pride,
+  Her comely mother's left han' zide.
+  An' then, a-wheelen roun', he took
+  On me, 'ithin his third white nook.
+  An' in the fourth, a-sheaeken wild,
+  He zent us on our giddy child.
+  But eesterday he guided slow
+  My downcast Jenny, vull o' woe,
+  An' then my little maid in black,
+  A-walken softly on her track;
+  An' after he'd a-turn'd ageaen,
+  To let me goo along the leaene,
+  He had noo little bwoy to vill
+  His last white eaerms, an' they stood still.
+
+
+
+
+THE BETTER VOR ZEEN O' YOU.
+
+
+  'Twer good what Meaester Collins spoke
+  O' spite to two poor spitevul vo'k,
+  When woone twold tother o' the two
+  "I be never the better vor zeen o' you."
+  If soul to soul, as Christians should,
+  Would always try to do zome good,
+  "How vew," he cried, "would zee our feaece
+  A-brighten'd up wi' smiles o' greaece,
+  An' tell us, or could tell us true,
+  I be never the better vor zeen o' you."
+
+  A man mus' be in evil ceaese
+  To live 'ithin a land o' greaece,
+  Wi' nothen 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' weepen eyes;
+  To stay 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 zeen o' you."
+
+  Oh! no, mid all o's try to spend
+  Our passen time to zome good end,
+  An' zoo vrom day to day teaeke heed,
+  By mind, an' han', by word or deed;
+  To lessen evil, and increase
+  The growth o' righteousness an' peaece,
+  A-speaken words o' loven-kindness,
+  Openen the eyes o' blindness;
+  Helpen helpless striver's weakness,
+  Cheeren hopeless grievers' meekness,
+  Meaeken friends at every meeten,
+  Veel the happier vor their greeten;
+  Zoo that vew could tell us true,
+  "I be never the better vor zeen o' you."
+  No, let us even try to win
+  Zome little good vrom sons o' sin,
+  An' let their evils warn us back
+  Vrom teaeken 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 zeen o' you."
+
+
+
+
+PITY.
+
+
+  Good Meaester 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 prayer to the God o' might,
+  He vound a fourth, 'ithout a neaeme,
+  A-walken wi' em in the fleaeme.
+
+  An' zoo, whenever we mid hurt,
+    Vrom spite, or vrom disdain,
+  A brother's soul, or meaeke en smert
+    Wi' keen an' needless pain,
+  Another that we midden know
+  Is always wi' en in his woe.
+  Vor you do know our Lord ha' cried,
+  "By faith my bretheren do bide
+  In me the liven vine,
+    As branches in a liven 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 leaeve a heart o' flesh an' blood so cwold
+    At such a touchen 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-meaede 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.
+  "Meaeke room," woone naighbour 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-twiten o'n wi' wrong,
+  Zoo he did sleep till mornen broke,
+    An' birds did call en wi' their zong.
+  But he did love a harmless joke,
+  An' love his evenen whiff o' smoke,
+  A-zitten in his cheaeir 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 meaeke 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' teaeke the rail outright."
+  "Your feaere," the booker cried;
+  "There, there," good Bloom replied;
+  "Why this June het do meaeke 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 train, vrom slow to vast.
+  An' oh! at last how they did spank
+  By cutten 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 feaere," the boots then cried;
+  "I'm there," the man replied.
+  "The glassen pleaece, your quickest peaece,"
+  Cried worthy Bloom the miller.
+
+  The steps went down wi' rottlen slap,
+    The zwingen door went open wide:
+  Wide? no; vor when the worthy chap
+    Stepp'd up to teaeke his pleaece 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 theaese vooty thing!"
+  Cried worthy Bloom the miller.
+
+  "Come," cried the drever. "Pay your feaere
+    You'll teaeke up all my time, good man."
+  "Well," answer'd Bloom, "to meaeke that square,
+    You teaeke 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 meaeke 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, "meaeke 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' MAIDENS A-RUNNEN THE VIELDS.[F]
+
+
+  "Come on. Be sprack, a-laggen back."
+  "Oh! be there any cows to hook?"
+  "Lauk she's afraid, a silly maid,"
+  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. Theaese 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-slippen 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-zingen 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 crawlen thing,
+  A sneaeke." "A slooworm; he wont sting."
+  "Hee! hee! how she did squal an' hop,
+  A-spinnen roun' so quick's a top."
+  "Look here, oh! quick, be quick."
+  "What is it? what then? where?"
+  "A rabbit." "No, a heaere."
+  "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' sheaeke it out."
+  "Oh! emmets, oh! ooh, ooh,
+  A-crawlen all about."
+  "What bird is that, O harken, hush.
+  How sweetly he do zing."
+  "A nightingeaele." "La! no, a drush."
+  "Oh! here's a funny thing."
+  "Oh! how the bull do hook,
+  An' bleaere, 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 sheaeke wi' fright."
+  "A musheroom." "O lau!
+  A twoadstool! Pwoison! Augh."
+  "What's that, a mouse?"
+                          "O no,
+  Teaeke ceaere, why 'tis a shrow."
+  "Be sure don't let en come
+  An' run athirt your shoe
+  He'll meaeke your voot so numb
+  That you wont veel a tooe."[G]
+  "Oh! what wer that so loud
+  A-rumblen?" "Why a clap
+  O' thunder. Here's a cloud
+  O' rain. I veel a drap."
+  "A thunderstorm. Do rain.
+  Run hwome wi' might an' main."
+  "Hee! hee! oh! there's a drop
+  A-trickled 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-hunten_ for _an huntunge_.
+    _ai_, _ay_ (5, 1), Maid, May.
+      (_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.
+
+_Baven_, a faggot of long brushwood.
+
+_Beae'nhan'_ (1, 3, 5), bear in hand, uphold or maintain, as an opinion
+     or otherwise.
+
+_Beaet_ (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.
+
+_Bleaere_ (1, 3), to low as a cow.
+
+_Blind-buck o' Davy_, blindman's buff.
+
+_Bloodywarrior_, the ruddy Stock gilliflower.
+
+_Blooens_, blossoms.
+
+_Blooth_, blossom in the main.
+
+_Bluevinny_, blue mouldy.
+
+_Brack_, a breach. "Neither brack nor crack in it."
+
+_Bran'_, a brand.
+
+_Branten_, brazen-faced.
+
+_Bring-gwain_ (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.
+
+_Cleden_, 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.
+
+_Cwein_, _Cwoin_, (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_, _Drene_ (2), to drawl.
+
+_Dreve_ (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.)
+
+_eae_ (1, 4) for _ea_, with the _a_ unsounded as lead, mead, leaed, meaed.
+
+_eae_ (1, 3) for the long _a_, 3, as in lade, made, leaede, meaede.
+
+_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 _en_--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_.
+
+_En_, for ing, zingen, 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_.
+
+_Fay_ (5, 1) to speed, succeed.
+
+_Feaest_ (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.
+
+_Graegle_, _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.
+
+_Hain_ (5, 1), to fence in ground or shut up a field for mowing.
+
+_Ha'me_, see _Hau'm_.
+
+_Hangen_, 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. _Teaetie haum_
+     potatoe stalks.
+
+_Hatch_, a low wicket or half door.
+
+_Haymeaeken_, 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 _weaeles_
+(weales) or long ridges, and, with a fear of rain, the weaeles were put
+up into _pooks_, or big peaked heaps; the waggon (often called the
+_plow_) came along between two weaeles 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.
+
+_Heaen_ (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 teaeties be out in knap."
+
+
+L.
+
+_Laeiter_ (5, 1), one run of laying of a hen.
+
+_Leaen_ (1, 4), to lean.
+
+_Leaene_ (1, 3), a lane.
+
+_Leaese_ (1, 4), to glean.
+
+_Leaese_ (1, 4), _Leaeze_, 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.
+
+_Meaeden_ (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.
+
+_Netlens_, a food of a pig's inwards tied in knots.
+
+_Never'stide_, never at all.
+
+_Nicky_, a very small fagot of sticks.
+
+_Nippy_, 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_ Haymeaeken.
+
+_Peaert_ (1, 4), pert; lively.
+
+_Peaze_, _Peeze_ (2), to ooze.
+
+_Peewit_, the lapwing.
+
+_Pitch._  _See_ Haymeaeken.
+
+_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_ Haymeaeken.
+
+_Popple_, a pebble.
+
+_Praise_ (5, 1), prize, to put forth or tell to others a pain or ailing.
+     "I had a risen on my eaerm, but I didden praise 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.
+
+_Reaemes_, (1, 3),  skeleton, frame.
+
+_Reaen_ (1, 4), to reach in greedily in eating.
+
+_Reaeves_, 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_ Haymeaeken.
+  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.
+
+_Slait_, (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.
+
+_Sneaed_ (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.
+
+_Squail_ (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.
+
+_Speaeker_ (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.
+
+_Staid_ (5, 1), steady, oldish.
+
+_Stannens_, stalls in a fair or market.
+
+_Steaen_ (1, 4) (a road), to lay it in stone.
+
+_Steaert_ (1, 4), a tail or outsticking thing.
+
+_Stout_, the cowfly, _Tabanus_.
+
+_Stitch_ (of corn), a conical pile of sheaves.
+
+_Strawen_, 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.
+
+_Tait_, to play at see-saw.
+
+_Tamy_ (3, 1), _tammy_ (5, 1), tough, that may be drawn out in strings,
+      as rich toasted cheese.
+
+_Teaeve_, (1, 3), to reach about strongly as in work or a struggle.
+
+_Teery_, _Tewly_, weak of growth.
+
+_Tewly_, weakly.
+
+_Theaese_, 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.
+
+_Weaese_, (1, 4) a pad or wreath for the head under a milkpail.
+
+_Weaele_ (1, 3), a ridge of dried hay; see _Haymeaeken_.
+
+_Welshnut_, a walnut.
+
+_Werden_, were not or was not.
+
+_Wevet_, a spider's web.
+
+_Whindlen_, 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 jaey to jay.
+
+Page 235: replaced two periods with commas.
+
+Page 243: restored title: BLEAeKE'S HOUSE IN BLACKMWORE.
+
+Page 297: Replaced missing end-quote.
+
+Page 350: Changed jaey to jay.
+
+Page 432: changed daey to day.
+
+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
+
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+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #21785 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21785)