Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/457

Rh Do zing among the soft-aïr’d groves, While up below the house’s oves The maïd, a-lookèn vrom her room Drough window, in her youthvul bloom, Do listen, wi’ white ears among Her glossy heäirlocks, to the zong. If, then, the while the moon do light The lwonesome zinger o’ the night, His cwold-beam’d light do seem to show The prowlèn owls the mouse below. What then? Because an evil will, Ov his sweet good, mid meäke zome ill, Shall all his feäce be kept behind The dark-brow’d hills to leave us blind?”

weakness now do strive wi’ might &emsp;In struggles ov an e’thly trial, Might mid overcome the right, &emsp;An’ truth be turn’d by might’s denial; Withstanders we ha’ mwost to feär, If selfishness do wring us here, Be souls a-holdèn in their hand, The might an’ riches o’ the land.

But when the wicked, now so strong, &emsp;Shall stan’ vor judgment, peäle as ashes, By the souls that rued their wrong, &emsp;Wi’ tears a-hangèn on their lashes— Then withstanders they shall deäre The leäst ov all to meet wi’ there, Mid be the helpless souls that now Below their wrongvul might mid bow.