Poems Of Rural Life In The Dorset Dialect Part 37

There in the narrow leane an' drong Hallow'd by times o' gwan along, The lofty ashes' leafless sh'ouds Rose dark avore the clear-edged clouds, The while the moon, at girtest height, Bespread the pooly brook wi' light, An' as our child, in loose-limb'd rest, Lay peale upon her mother's breast, Her waxen eyelids seal'd her eyes Vrom darksome trees, an' sheenen skies, An' halls a-hung wi' holm, that rung Wi' many a tongue, o' wold an' young.

THE WOLD WALL.

Here, Jeane, we vu'st did meet below The leafy boughs, a-swingen slow, Avore the zun, wi' evenen glow, Above our road, a-beamen red; The gra.s.s in zwath wer in the meads, The water gleam'd among the reeds In ar a-stealen roun' the hall, Where ivy clung upon the wall.

Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu!

The wall is wold, my grief is new.

An' there you walk'd wi' blushen pride, Where softly-wheelen streams did glide, Drough sheades o' poplars at my zide, An' there wi' love that still do live, Your feace did wear the smile o' youth, The while you spoke wi' age's truth, An' wi' a rwosebud's mossy ball, I deck'd your bosom vrom the wall.

Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu!

The wall is wold, my grief is new.

But now when winter's ran do vall, An' wind do beat agean the hall, The while upon the wat'ry wall In spots o' grey the moss do grow; The ruf noo mwore shall overspread The pillor ov our weary head, Nor shall the rwose's mossy ball Behang vor you the house's wall.

Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu!

The wall is wold, my grief is new.

BLEaKE'S HOUSE IN BLACKMWORE.

John Bleake he had a bit o' ground Come to en by his mother's zide; An' after that, two hunderd pound His uncle left en when he died; "Well now," cried John, "my mind's a-bent To build a house, an' pa noo rent."

An' Meary gi'ed en her consent.

"Do, do,"--the madens cried "True, true,"--his wife replied.

"Done, done,--a house o' brick or stwone,"

Cried merry Bleake o' Blackmwore.

Then John he call'd vor men o' skill, An' builders answer'd to his call; An' met to reckon, each his bill; Vor vloor an' window, ruf an' wall.

An' woone did mark it on the groun', An' woone did think, an' scratch his crown, An' reckon work, an' write it down: "Zoo, zoo,"--woone treadesman cried, "True, true,"--woone mwore replied.

"Aye, aye,--good work, an' have good pa,"

Cried merry Bleake o' Blackmwore.

The work begun, an' trowels rung, An' up the bricken wall did rise, An' up the slanten refters sprung, Wi' busy blows, an' l.u.s.ty cries!

An' woone brought planks to meake a vloor, An' woone did come wi' durns or door, An' woone did zaw, an' woone did bore, "Brick, brick,--there down below, Quick, quick,--why b'ye so slow?"

"Lime, lime,--why we do weaste the time, Vor merry Bleake o' Blackmwore."

The house wer up vrom groun' to tun, An' thatch'd agean the rany sky, Wi' windows to the noonday zun, Where rushy Stour do wander by.

In coo'se he had a pworch to screen The inside door, when win's wer keen, An' out avore the pworch, a green.

"Here! here!"--the childern cried: "Dear! dear!"--the wife replied; "There, there,--the house is perty feair,"

Cried merry Bleake o' Blackmwore.

Then John he ax'd his friends to warm His house, an' they, a goodish batch, Did come alwone, or earm in earm, All roads, a-meaken vor his hatch: An' there below the clavy beam The kettle-spout did zing an' steam; An' there wer ceakes, an' tea wi' cream.

"Lo! lo!"--the women cried; "Ho! ho!"--the men replied; "Health, health,--attend ye wi' your wealth, Good merry Bleake o' Blackmwore."

Then John, a-pras'd, flung up his crown, All back a-laughen in a roar.

They pras'd his wife, an' she look'd down A-simperen towards the vloor.

Then up they sprung a-dancen reels, An' up went tooes, an' up went heels, A-winden roun' in knots an' wheels.

"Brisk, brisk,"--the madens cried; "Frisk, frisk,"--the men replied; "Quick, quick,--there wi' your fiddle-stick,"

Cried merry Bleake o' Blackmwore.

An' when the morrow's zun did sheen, John Bleake beheld, wi' ja an' pride, His bricken house, an' pworch, an' green, Above the Stour's rushy zide.

The zwallows left the lwonesome groves, To build below the thatchen oves, An' robins come vor crumbs o' lwoaves: "Tweet, tweet,"--the birds all cried; "Sweet, sweet,"--John's wife replied; "Dad, dad,"--the childern cried so glad, To merry Bleake o' Blackmwore.

JOHN BLEaKE AT HWOME AT NIGHT.

No: where the woak do overspread, The gra.s.s begloom'd below his head, An' water, under bowen zedge, A-springen vrom the river's edge, Do ripple, as the win' do blow, An' sparkle, as the sky do glow; An' grey-leav'd withy-boughs do cool, Wi' darksome sheades, the clear-feaced pool, My chimny smoke, 'ithin the lew O' trees is there arisen blue; Avore the night do dim our zight, Or candle-light, a-sheenen bright, Do sparkle drough the window.

When crumpled leaves o' Fall do bound Avore the wind, along the ground, An' wither'd bennet-stems do stand A-quiv'ren on the chilly land; The while the zun, wi' zetten rim, Do leave the workman's pathway dim; An' sweet-breath'd childern's hangen heads Be laid wi' kisses, on their beds; Then I do seek my woodland nest, An' zit bezide my vier at rest, While night's a-spread, where day's a-vled, An' lights do shed their beams o' red, A-sparklen drough the window.

If winter's whistlen winds do vreeze The snow a-gather'd on the trees, An' sheades o' poplar stems do vall In moonlight up athirt the wall; An' icicles do hang below The oves, a-glitt'ren in a row, An' risen stars do slowly ride Above the ruf's upslanten zide; Then I do lay my weary head Asleep upon my peaceful bed, When middle-night ha' quench'd the light Ov embers bright, an' candles white A-beamen drough the window.

MILKEN TIME.

'Twer when the busy birds did vlee, Wi' sheenen wings, vrom tree to tree, To build upon the mossy lim', Their hollow nestes' rounded rim; The while the zun, a-zinken low, Did roll along his evenen bow, I come along where wide-horn'd cows, 'Ithin a nook, a-screen'd by boughs, Did stan' an' flip the white-hoop'd pals Wi' heairy tufts o' swingen tals; An' there wer Jenny Coom a-gone Along the path a vew steps on.

A-bearen on her head, upstraght, Her pal, wi' slowly-riden waght, An' hoops a-sheenen, lily-white, Agean the evenen's slanten light; An' zo I took her pal, an' left Her neck a-freed vrom all his heft; An' she a-looken up an' down, Wi' sheapely head an' glossy crown, Then took my zide, an' kept my peace A-talken on wi' smilen feace, An' zetten things in sich a light, I'd fan ha' hear'd her talk all night; An' when I brought her milk avore The geate, she took it in to door, An' if her pal had but allow'd Her head to vall, she would ha' bow'd, An' still, as 'twer, I had the zight Ov her sweet smile droughout the night.

WHEN BIRDS BE STILL.

Vor all the zun do leave the sky, An' all the sounds o' day do die, An' noo mwore veet do walk the dim Vield-path to clim' the stiel's bars, Yeet out below the rizen stars, The dark'nen day mid leave behind Woone tongue that I shall always vind, A-whisperen kind, when birds be still.

Zoo let the day come on to spread His kindly light above my head, Wi' zights to zee, an' sounds to hear, That still do cheer my thoughtvul mind; Or let en goo, an' leave behind An' hour to stroll along the gleades, Where night do drown the beeches' sheades, On gra.s.ses' bleades, when birds be still.

Vor when the night do lull the sound O' cows a-blearen out in ground, The sh'ill-vac'd dog do stan' an' bark 'Ithin the dark, bezide the road; An' when noo cracklen waggon's lwoad Is in the leane, the wind do bring The merry peals that bells do ring O ding-dong-ding, when birds be still.

Zoo teake, vor me, the town a-drown'd, 'Ithin a storm o' rumblen sound, An' gi'e me vaces that do speak So soft an' meek, to souls alwone; The brook a-gurglen round a stwone, An' birds o' day a-zingen clear, An' leaves, that I mid zit an' hear A-rustlen near, when birds be still.

RIDEN HWOME AT NIGHT.