Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/329

Rh An’ there, mid every busy pick, &emsp;Ha’ work enough to do; An’ where, avore, we built woone rick, &emsp;Mid theäse year gi’e us two; &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Wi’ God our friend, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;An’ wealth to spend, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Vor zome good end, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;That times mid mend, &emsp;In towns, an’ Do’set Downs, O.

Zoo let the merry thatcher veel &emsp;Fine weather on his brow, As he, in happy work, do kneel &emsp;Up roun’ the new-built mow, That now do zwell in sich a size, &emsp;An’ rise to sich a height, That, oh! the miller’s wistful eyes &emsp;Do sparkle at the zight. &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;An’ long mid stand, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;A happy band, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;To till the land, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Wi’ head an’ hand, &emsp;By crowns o’ Do’set Downs, O.

how the looks o’ sky an’ ground Do change wi’ months a-stealèn round, When northern winds, by starry night, Do stop in ice the river’s flight; Or brooks in winter raïns do zwell, Lik’ rollèn seas athirt the dell; Or trickle thin in zummer-tide; Among the mossy stwones half dried; But still, below the zun or moon, The feärest vield’s the meäd in June.