Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/218

202 Gwaïn down the steps vor water! No! How handsome it do meäke her grow. If she’d be straïght, or walk abrode, To tread her road wi’ comely gaït, She coulden do a better thing To zet herzelf upright, than bring Her pitcher on her head, vrom spring Upon the steps, wi’ water.

No! don’t ye neäme in woone seäme breath Wi’ bachelors, the husband’s he’th; The happy pleäce, where vingers thin Do pull woone’s chin, or pat woone’s feäce. But still the bleäme is their’s, to slight Their happiness, wi’ such a zight O’ maïdens, mornèn, noon, an’ night, A-gwaïn down steps vor water.

soul did hear her lips complaïn, An’ she’s a-gone vrom all her païn, An’ others’ loss to her is gaïn For she do live in heaven’s love; Vull many a longsome day an’ week She bore her aïlèn, still, an’ meek; A-workèn while her strangth held on, An’ guidèn housework, when ’twer gone. Vor Ellen Brine ov Allenburn, Oh! there be souls to murn.

The last time I’d a-cast my zight Upon her feäce, a-feäded white, Wer in a zummer’s mornèn light In hall avore the smwold’rèn vier, The while the childern beät the vloor,