Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/415

Rh In païn our thoughts can pass to eäse, &emsp;In work our souls can be at plaÿ, An’ leäve behind the chilly leäse &emsp;Vor warm-aïr’d meäds o’ new mow’d haÿ. When we do vlee in Fancy’s flight &emsp;Vrom daily ills avore our feäce, &emsp;An’ linger in zome happy pleäce Ov mè’th an’ smiles, an’ warmth an’ light.

o’ grief had overteäken Dark-ey’d Fanny, now vorseäken; There she zot, wi’ breast a-heavèn, While vrom zide to zide, wi’ grievèn, Vell her head, wi’ tears a-creepèn Down her cheäks, in bitter weepèn. There wer still the ribbon-bow She tied avore her hour ov woe, An’ there wer still the han’s that tied it &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Hangèn white, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Or wringèn tight, In ceäre that drown’d all ceäre bezide it.

When a man, wi’ heartless slightèn, Mid become a maïden’s blightèn, He mid ceärlessly vorseäke her, But must answer to her Meäker; He mid slight, wi’ selfish blindness, All her deeds o’ lovèn-kindness, God wull waïgh em wi’ the slightèn That mid be her love’s requitèn; He do look on each deceiver, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;He do know &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;What weight o’ woe Do breäk the heart ov ev’ry griever.