Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/387

Rh The leäne do lose the stalkèn team, &emsp;An’ dry-rimm’d waggon-wheels be still, An’ hills do roll their down-shot stream &emsp;Below the restèn wheel at mill. O holy day, when tweil do ceäse, Sweet day o’ rest an’ greäce an’ peäce!

The eegrass, vor a while unwrung &emsp;By hoof or shoe, ’s a sheenèn bright, An’ clover flowers be a-sprung &emsp;On new-mow’d knaps in beds o’ white, An’ sweet wild rwoses, up among &emsp;The hedge-row boughs, do yield their smells, To aïer that do bear along &emsp;The loud-rung peals o’ Zunday bells, Upon the day o’ days the best, The day o’ greäce an’ peace an’ rest.

By brightshod veet, in peäir an’ peäir, &emsp;Wi’ comely steps the road’s a-took To church, an’ work-free han’s do beär &emsp;Woone’s walkèn stick or sister’s book; An’ there the bloomèn niece do come &emsp;To zee her aunt, in all her best; Or married daughter do bring hwome &emsp;Her vu’st sweet child upon her breast, As she do seek the holy pleäce, The day o’ rest an’ peäce an’ greäce.

I come by, zome years agoo, A-burnt below a sky o’ blue, ’Ithin the pillar’ d geäte there zung A vaïce a-soundèn sweet an’ young,