Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/367

Rh The while the drippèn tow’r did tell The hour, wi’ storm-be-smother’d bell, An’ over ev’ry flower’s bud Roll’d on the flood, ’ithin the dell.

But when the zun arose, an’ lik’ a rwose &emsp;&emsp;Shone the mornèn sky; An’ roun’ the woak, the wind a-blowèn weak, &emsp;&emsp;Softly whiver’d by. Though drown’d wer still the deaïsy bed Below the flood, its feäce instead O’ flow’ry grown’, below our shoes Show’d feäirest views o’ skies o’er head.

An’ zoo to try if all our faith is true &emsp;&emsp;Jaÿ mid end in tears, An’ hope, woonce feäir, mid saddèn into fear, &emsp;&emsp;Here in e’thly years. But He that tried our soul do know To meäke us good amends, an’ show Instead o’ things a-took awaÿ, Some higher jaÿ that He’ll bestow.

clouds did ride wi’ heästy flight, An’ woods did sway upon the height, An’ bleädes o’ grass did sheäke, below The hedge-row bremble’s swingèn bow, I come back hwome where winds did zwell, &emsp;In whirls along the woody gleädes, &emsp;On primrwose beds, in windy sheädes, To Burnley’s dark-tree’d dell.