Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/331

Rh An’ vish, wi’ zides o’ zilver-white, Do flash vrom shoals a dazzlèn light; An’ alders by the water’s edge, Do sheäde the ribbon-bleäded zedge, An’ where, below the withy’s head, The zwimmèn clote-leaves be a-spread, The angler is a-zot at noon Upon the flow’ry bank in June.

Vor all the aiër that do bring My little meäd the breath o’ Spring, By day an’ night’s a-flowèn wide Above all other vields bezide; Vor all the zun above my ground ’S a-zent vor all the naïghbours round, An’ rain do vall, an’ streams do flow, Vor lands above, an’ lands below, My bit o’ meäd is God’s own boon, To me alwone, vrom June to June.

aïr to gi’e your cheäks a hue O’ rwosy red, so feaïr to view, Is what do sheäke the grass-bleädes gray At breäk o’ day, in mornèn dew; Vor vo’k that will be rathe abrode, Will meet wi’ health upon their road.

But bidèn up till dead o’ night, When han’s o’ clocks do stan’ upright, By candle-light, do soon consume The feäce’s bloom, an’ turn it white. An’ light a-cast vrom midnight skies Do blunt the sparklèn ov the eyes.