Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/409

Rh I met the merry laugher on the down, Bezide her mother, on the path to town, An’ oh! her sheäpe wer comely to the zight, But wordless then wer she a-vound to me.

Zoo, sweet ov unzeen things mid be sound, An’ feäir to zight mid soundless things be vound, But I’ve the laugh to hear, an’ feäce to zee, Vor they be now my own, a-bound to me.

zun, O Jessie, while his feäce do rise &emsp;In vi’ry skies, a-sheddèn out his light On yollow corn a-weävèn down below &emsp;His yollow glow, is gaÿ avore the zight. &emsp;&emsp;By two an’ two, &emsp;&emsp;How goodly things do goo, &emsp;A-matchèn woone another to fulvill &emsp;The goodness ov their Meäkfèr’s will.

How bright the spreadèn water in the lew &emsp;Do catch the blue, a-sheenèn vrom the sky; How true the grass do teäke the dewy bead &emsp;That it do need, while dousty roads be dry. &emsp;&emsp;By peäir an’ peäir &emsp;&emsp;Each thing’s a-meäde to sheäre &emsp;The good another can bestow, &emsp;In wisdom’s work down here below.

The lowest lim’s o’ trees do seldom grow &emsp;A-spread too low to gi’e the cows a sheäde; The aïr’s to bear the bird, the bird’s to rise; &emsp;Vor light the eyes, vor eyes the light’s a-meäde.