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diff --git a/21785.txt b/21785.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..70cacf9 --- /dev/null +++ b/21785.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19565 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect, by +William Barnes + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect + +Author: William Barnes + +Release Date: June 9, 2007 [EBook #21785] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF RURAL LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 21785.txt or 21785.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/7/8/21785/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Lesley Halamek and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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