Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/171

Rh ’Tis lively at a feäir, among The chattèn, laughèn, shiften drong, When wold an’ young, an’ high an’ low, Do streamy round, an’ to an’ fro; But what new feäce that we don’t know, &emsp;Can ever meäke woone’s warm heart dance &emsp;Among ten thousan’, lik’ a glance &emsp;&emsp;O’ looks we know’d avore, John.

How of’en have the wind a-shook The leaves off into yonder brook, Since vu’st we two, in youthvul strolls, Did ramble roun’ them bubblèn shoals! An’ oh! that zome o’ them young souls, &emsp;That we, in jaÿ, did plaÿ wi’ then &emsp;Could come back now, an’ bring ageän &emsp;&emsp;The looks we know’d avore, John.

So soon’s the barley’s dead an’ down, The clover-leaf do rise vrom groun’, An’ wolder feäzen do but goo To be a-vollow’d still by new; But souls that be a-tried an’ true &emsp;Shall meet ageän beyond the skies, &emsp;An’ bring to woone another’s eyes &emsp;&emsp;The looks they know’d avore, John.

music, in a heart that’s true, Do kindle up wold loves anew, An’ dim wet eyes, in feäirest lights, Do zee but inward fancy’s zights; When creepèn years, wi’ with’rèn blights, &emsp;’V a-took off them that wer so dear, &emsp;How touchèn ’tis if we do hear &emsp;&emsp;The tuèns o’ the dead, John.