Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/227

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zummer, when the knaps wer bright In cool-aïr’d evenèn’s western light, An’ haÿ that had a-dried all day, Did now lie grey, to dewy night; I went, by happy chance, or doom, Vrom Broadwoak Hill, athirt to Coomb, An’ met a maïd in all her bloom: &emsp;&emsp;The feaïrest maïd o’ Newton.

She bore a basket that did ride So light, she didden leän azide; Her feäce wer oval, an’ she smil’d So sweet’s a child, but walk’d wi’ pride. I spoke to her, but what I zaid I didden know; wi’ thoughts a-vled, I spoke by heart, an’ not by head, &emsp;&emsp;Avore the maïd o’ Newton.

I call’d her, oh! I don’t know who, ’Twer by a neäme she never knew; An’ to the heel she stood upon, She then brought on her hinder shoe, An’ stopp’d avore me, where we met, An’ wi’ a smile woone can’t vorget, She zaid, wi’ eyes a-zwimmèn wet, &emsp;&emsp;“No, I be woone o’ Newton.”

Then on I rambled to the west, Below the zunny hangèn’s breast, Where, down athirt the little stream, The brudge’s beam did lie at rest: But all the birds, wi’ lively glee,