Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/316

300 An’ then wind off ageän, to run By Blanvord, to the noonday zun, ’Tis only bound by woone rule all, An’ that’s to vall down steepest ground.

An’ zoo, I thought, as we do bend Our way drough life, to reach our end, Our God ha’ gi’ed us, vrom our youth, Woone rule to be our guide—His truth. An’ zoo wi’ that, though we mid teäke Wide rambles vor our callèns’ seäke, What is, is best, we needen fear, An’ we shall steer to happy rest.

Meäster Collins wer a-blest Wi’ greäce, an’ now’s a-gone to rest; An’ though his heart did beät so meek ’S a little child’s, when he did speak, The godly wisdom ov his tongue Wer dew o’ greäce to wold an’ young.

’Twer woonce, upon a zummer’s tide, I zot at Brookwell by his zide, Avore the leäke, upon the rocks, Above the water’s idle shocks, As little plaÿsome weäves did zwim Ageän the water’s windy brim. Out where the lofty tower o’ stwone Did stan’ to years o’ wind an’ zun; An’ where the zwellèn pillars bore A pworch above the heavy door, Wi’ sister sheädes a-reachèn cool Athirt the stwones an’ sparklèn pool.