Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/172

156 When I, a-stannèn in the lew O’ trees a storm’s a-beätèn drough, Do zee the slantèn mist a-drove By spitevul winds along the grove, An’ hear their hollow sounds above &emsp;My shelter’d head, do seem, as I &emsp;Do think o’ zunny days gone by, &emsp;&emsp;Lik’ music vor the dead, John.

Last night, as I wer gwaïn along The brook, I heard the milk-maïd’s zong A-ringèn out so clear an’ shrill Along the meäds an’ roun’ the hill. I catch’d the tuèn, an’ stood still &emsp;To hear ’t; ’twer woone that Jeäne did zing &emsp;A-vield a-milkèn in the spring,— &emsp;&emsp;Sweet music o’ the dead, John.

Don’t tell o’ zongs that be a-zung By young chaps now, wi’ sheämeless tongue: Zing me wold ditties, that would start The maïden’s tears, or stir my heart To teäke in life a manly peärt,— &emsp;The wold vo’k’s zongs that twold a teäle, &emsp;An’ vollow’d round their mugs o’ eäle, &emsp;&emsp;The music o’ the dead, John.

tidden vields an’ runnèn brooks, &emsp;Nor trees in Spring or fall; An’ tidden woody slopes an’ nooks, &emsp;Do touch us mwost ov all; An’ tidden ivy that do cling &emsp;By housen big an’ wold, O, But this is, after all, the thing,— &emsp;The pleäce a teäle’s a-twold o’.