Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/408

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night, as drough the meäd I took my waÿ, In aïr a-sweeten’d by the new-meäde haÿ, A stream a-vallèn down a rock did sound, Though out o’ zight wer foam an’ stwone to me.

Behind the knap, above the gloomy copse, The wind did russle in the trees’ high tops, Though evenèn darkness, an’ the risèn hill, Kept all the quiv’rèn leaves unshown to me,

Within the copse, below the zunless sky, I heärd a nightèngeäle, a-warblèn high Her lwoansome zong, a-hidden vrom my zight, An’ showèn nothèn but her mwoan to me.

An’ by a house, where rwoses hung avore The thatch-brow’d window, an’ the oben door, I heärd the merry words, an’ hearty laugh O’ zome feäir maïd, as eet unknown to me.

High over head the white-rimm’d clouds went on, Wi’ woone a-comèn up, vor woone a-gone; An’ feäir they floated in their sky-back’d flight, But still they never meäde a sound to me.

An’ there the miller, down the stream did float Wi’ all his childern, in his white-saïl’d bwoat, Vur off, beyond the stragglèn cows in meäd, But zent noo vaïce, athirt the ground, to me.

An’ then a buttervlee, in zultry light, A-wheelèn on about me, vier-bright, Did show the gaÿest colors to my eye, But still did bring noo vaïce around to me.