Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/418

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true I brought noo fortune hwome &emsp;Wi’ Jenny, vor her honey-moon, But still a goodish hansel come &emsp;Behind her perty soon, Vor stick, an’ dish, an’ spoon, all vell To Jeäne, vrom Aunt o’ Camwy dell.

Zoo all the lot o’ stuff a-tied &emsp;Upon the plow, a tidy tod, On gravel-crunchèn wheels did ride, &emsp;Wi’ ho’ses, iron-shod, That, as their heads did nod, my whip Did guide along wi’ lightsome flip.

An’ there it rod ’ithin the rwope, &emsp;Astraïn’d athirt, an’ straïn’d along, Down Thornhay’s evenèn-lighted slope &emsp;An’ up the beech-tree drong; Where wheels a-bound so strong, cut out On either zide a deep-zunk rout.

An’ when at Fall the trees wer brown, &emsp;Above the bennet-bearèn land, When beech-leaves slowly whiver’d down, &emsp;By evenèn winds a-fann’d; The routs wer each a band o’ red, A-vill’d by drifted beech-leaves dead.

An’ when, in Winter’s leafless light, &emsp;The keener eastern wind did blow, An’ scatter down, avore my zight, &emsp;A chilly cwoat o’ snow; The routs ageän did show vull bright, In two long streaks o’ glitt’rèn white.