Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/434

418 I cried, wi’ sotow sore a-tried, An’ hung, wi’ Jenny at my zide, &emsp;My head upon my breast. Wi’ strokes o’ grief so hard to bear, &emsp;’Tis hard vor souls to rest.

Can all be dull, when zuns do glow? &emsp;Oh! no; look down the grove, &emsp;Where zides o’ trees be bright above; An’ weäves do sheen below; An’ neäked stems o’ wood in hedge &emsp;Do gleäm in streäks o’ light, An’ rocks do gleäre upon the ledge &emsp;O’ yonder zunny height, “No, Jeäne, wi’ trials now withdrawn, Lik’ darkness at a happy dawn.” &emsp;I cried, “Noo mwore despair; Wi’ our lost peace ageän a-vound, &emsp;’Tis wrong to harbour ceäre.”

&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp; wind wer keen, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Where ivy-green &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Did clwosely wind &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Roun’ woak-tree rind, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;An’ ice shone bright, An’ meäds wer white, wi’ thin-spread snow &emsp;Then on the pond, a-spreadèn wide, &emsp;We bwoys did zweep along the slide, A-strikèn on in merry row.

&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;There ruddy-feäced, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;In busy heäste,