Page:Wessex poems and other verses (IA wessexpoemsother00hard).pdf/204

 Young Tim away yond, rafted up by the light, Through brimble and underwood tears, Till he comes to the orchet, when crooping thereright In the lewth of a codlin-tree, bivering wi' fright, Wi' on'y her night-rail to screen her from sight, His lonesome young Barbree appears.

Her cwold little figure half-naked he views Played about by the frolicsome breeze, Her light-tripping totties, her ten little tooes, All bare and besprinkled wi' Fall's chilly dews, While her great gallied eyes, through her hair hanging loose, Sheened as stars through a tardle o' trees.

She eyed en; and, as when a weir-hatch is drawn, Her tears, penned by terror afore,