Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/280

264 Zoo when, at last, I hung my head &emsp;Wi’ thirsty lips a-burnèn dry, I come bezide a river-bed &emsp;Where water flow’d so blue’s the sky; &emsp;An’ there I meäde me up &emsp;O’ coltsvoot leaf a cup, Where water vrom his lip o’ gray, Wer sweet to sip thik burnèn day.

But when our work is right, a jaÿ &emsp;Do come to bless us in its traïn, An’ hardships ha’ zome good to paÿ &emsp;The thoughtvul soul vor all their païn: &emsp;The het do sweetèn sheäde, &emsp;An’ weary lim’s ha’ meäde A bed o’ slumber, still an’ sound, By woody hill or grassy mound.

An’ while I zot in sweet delaÿ &emsp;Below an elem on a hill, Where boughs a-halfway up did swaÿ &emsp;In sheädes o’ lim’s above em still, &emsp;An’ blue sky show’d between &emsp;The flutt’rèn leäves o’ green; I woulden gi’e that gloom an’ sheäde Vor any room that wealth ha’ meäde.

But oh! that vo’k that have the roads &emsp;Where weary-vooted souls do pass, Would leäve bezide the stwone vor lwoads, &emsp;A little strip vor zummer grass; &emsp;That when the stwones do bruise &emsp;An’ burn an’ gall our tooes, We then mid cool our veet on beds O’ wild-thyme sweet, or deäisy-heads.