Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/262

246 My chimny smoke, ’ithin the lew O’ trees is there arisèn blue; Avore the night do dim our zight, Or candle-light, a-sheenèn 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’rèn on the chilly land; The while the zun, wi’ zettèn rim, Do leave the workman’s pathway dim; An’ sweet-breath’d childern’s hangèn 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-sparklèn drough the window.

If winter’s whistlèn winds do vreeze The snow a-gather’d on the trees, An’ sheädes o’ poplar stems do vall In moonlight up athirt the wall; An’ icicles do hang below The oves, a-glitt’rèn in a row, An’ risèn stars do slowly ride Above the ruf’s upslantèn 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-beamèn drough the window.