Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/365

Rh An’ then the bank, wi’ risèn back, &emsp;That’s now a-most a-troddèn down, Bore thorns wi’ rind o’ sheeny black, &emsp;An’ meäple stems o’ ribby brown; An’ in the lewth o’ theäse tree heads, Wer primrwose beds a-sprung in blooth, An’ here a geäte, a-slammèn to, Did let the slow-wheel’d plough roll drough.

Ov all that then went by, but vew &emsp;Be now a-left behine’, to beät The mornèn flow’rs or evenèn dew, &emsp;Or slam the woakèn vive-bar’d geäte; But woone, my wife, so litty-stepp’d, That have a-kept my path o’ life, Wi’ her vew errands on the road, Where woonce she bore her mother’s lwoad.

love is the maïd ov all maïdens, &emsp;Though all mid be comely, Her skin’s lik’ the jessamy blossom &emsp;A-spread in the Spring.

Her smile is so sweet as a beäby’s &emsp;Young smile on his mother, Her eyes be as bright as the dew drop &emsp;A-shed in the Spring.

O grey-leafy pinks o’ the geärden, &emsp;Now bear her sweet blossoms; Now deck wi’ a rwose-bud, O briar, &emsp;Her head in the Spring.