Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/382

366 A-risèn to her comely height, &emsp;She push’d the swingèn ceäsement round; And I could hear, beyond my zight, &emsp;The win’-blow’d beech-tree softly sound, On higher ground, a-swaÿèn slow, On drough my happy hour below.

An’ tho’ the darkness then did hide &emsp;The dewy rwose’s blushèn bloom, He still did cast sweet air inside &emsp;To Jeäne, a-chattèn in the room; An’ though the gloom did hide her feäce, Her words did bind me to the pleäce.

An’ there, while she, wi’ runnèn tongue, &emsp;Did talk unzeen ’ithin the hall, I thought her like the rwose that flung &emsp;His sweetness vrom his darken’d ball, ’Ithout the wall, an’ sweet’s the zight Ov her bright feäce by mornèn light.

ye come in eärly Spring, Come at Easter, or in Maÿ? Or when Whitsuntide mid bring Longer light to show your waÿ? Wull ye come, if you be true, Vor to quicken love anew. Wull ye call in Spring or Fall? Come now soon by zun or moon? &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Wull ye come ?

Come wi’ vaïce to vaïce the while All their words be sweet to hear; Come that feäce to feäce mid smile, While their smiles do seem so dear;