Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/389

Rh But while she vell, my Meäker’s greäce Led me to teäke a higher pleäce, An’ lighten’d up my mind wi’ lore, An’ bless’d me wi’ a worldly store; But still noo winsome feäce or vaïce, Had ever been my wedded chaïce; An’ then I thought, why do I mwope Alwone without a jaÿ or hope? &emsp;&emsp;Would she still think me low? Or scorn a meäte, in my feäir steäte, In here ’ithin a pillar’d geäte, A happy pleace wi’ her kind feäce? &emsp;&emsp;Oh, no! my hope, no, no.

I don’t stand out ’tis only feäte Do gi’e to each his wedded meäte; But eet there’s woone above the rest, That every soul can like the best. An’ my wold love’s a-kindled new, An’ my wold dream’s a-come out true; But while I had noo soul to sheäre My good an’ ill, an’ jaÿ an ceäre, &emsp;&emsp;Should I have bliss below, In gleämèn pleäte an’ lofty steäte ’Ithin the lofty pillar’d geäte, Wi’ feäirest flow’rs, an’ ponds an’ tow’rs? &emsp;&emsp;Oh, no! my heart, no, no.

then the grassy-meäded Maÿ Did warm the passèn year, an’ gleam Upon the yellowyollow [sic]-grounded stream, That still by beech-tree sheädes do straÿ.