Poems Of Rural Life In The Dorset Dialect Part 61

In stillness we ha' words to hear, An' sheapes to zee in darkest night, An' tongues a-lost can hal us near, An' souls a-gone can smile in zight; When Fancy now do wander back To years a-spent, an' bring to mind Zome happy tide a-left behind In' weasten life's slow-beaten track.

When feaden leaves do drip wi' ran, Our thoughts can ramble in the dry; When Winter win' do zweep the plan We still can have a zunny sky.

Vor though our limbs be winter-wrung, We still can zee, wi' Fancy's eyes, The brightest looks ov e'th an' skies, That we did know when we wer young.

In pan our thoughts can pa.s.s to ease, In work our souls can be at pla, An' leave behind the chilly lease Vor warm-ar'd meads o' new mow'd ha.

When we do vlee in Fancy's flight Vrom daily ills avore our feace, An' linger in zome happy pleace Ov me'th an' smiles, an' warmth an' light.

THE BROKEN HEART.

News o' grief had overteaken Dark-ey'd f.a.n.n.y, now vorseaken; There she zot, wi' breast a-heaven, While vrom zide to zide, wi' grieven, Vell her head, wi' tears a-creepen Down her cheaks, in bitter weepen.

There wer still the ribbon-bow She tied avore her hour ov woe, An' there wer still the han's that tied it Hangen white, Or wringen tight, In ceare that drown'd all ceare bezide it.

When a man, wi' heartless slighten, Mid become a maden's blighten, He mid cearlessly vorseake her, But must answer to her Meaker; He mid slight, wi' selfish blindness, All her deeds o' loven-kindness, G.o.d wull wagh em wi' the slighten That mid be her love's requiten; He do look on each deceiver, He do know What weight o' woe Do break the heart ov ev'ry griever.

EVENeN LIGHT.

The while I took my bit o' rest, Below my house's eastern sheade, The things that stood in vield an' gleade Wer bright in zunsheen vrom the west.

There bright wer east-ward mound an' wall, An' bright wer trees, arisen tall, An' bright did break 'ithin the brook, Down rocks, the watervall.

There deep 'ithin my pworches bow Did hang my heavy woaken door, An' in beyond en, on the vloor, The evenen dusk did gather slow; But bright did gleare the twinklen spwokes O' runnen carriage wheels, as vo'ks Out east did ride along the road, Bezide the low-bough'd woaks,

An' I'd a-lost the zun vrom view, Until agean his feace mid rise, A-sheenen vrom the eastern skies To brighten up the rwose-borne dew; But still his lingren light did gi'e My heart a touchen ja, to zee His beams a-shed, wi' stratchen sheade, On east-ward wall an' tree.

When ja, a-zent me vrom above, Vrom my sad heart is now agone, An' others be a-walken on, Amid the light ov Heaven's love, Oh! then vor loven-kindness seake, Mid I rejaice that zome do teake My hopes a-gone, until agean My happy dawn do break.

VIELDS BY WATERVALLS.

When our downcast looks be smileless, Under others' wrongs an' slightens, When our daily deeds be guileless, An' do meet unkind requitens, You can meake us zome amends Vor wrongs o' foes, an' slights o' friends;-- O flow'ry-gleaded, timber-sheaded Vields by flowen watervalls!

Here be softest ars a-blowen Drough the boughs, wi' zingen drushes, Up above the streams, a-flowen Under willows, on by rushes.

Here below the bright-zunn'd sky The dew-bespangled flow'rs do dry, In woody-zided, stream-divided Vields by flowen watervalls.

Waters, wi' their giddy rollens; Breezes wi' their plasome wooens; Here do heal, in soft consolens, Hearts a-wrung wi' man's wrong doens.

Day do come to us as ga As to a king ov widest swa, In deaisy-whiten'd, gil'cup-brighten'd Vields by flowen watervalls.

Zome feair buds mid outlive blightens, Zome sweet hopes mid outlive sorrow.

After days of wrongs an' slightens There mid break a happy morrow.

We mid have noo e'thly love; But G.o.d's love-tokens vrom above Here mid meet us, here mid greet us, In the vields by watervalls.

THE WHEEL ROUTS.

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

Zoo all the lot o' stuff a-tied Upon the plow, a tidy tod, On gravel-crunchen wheels did ride, 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, Astran'd athirt, an' stran'd along, Down Thornhay's evenen-lighted slope 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, Above the bennet-bearen land, When beech-leaves slowly whiver'd down.

By evenen 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, The keener eastern wind did blow.

An' scatter down, avore my zight, A chilly cwoat o' snow; The routs agean did show vull bright, In two long streaks o' glitt'ren white.

But when, upon our wedden night, The cart's light wheels, a-rollen round, Brought Jenny hwome, they run too light To mark the yielden ground; Or welcome would be vound a peair O' green-vill'd routs a-runnen there.

Zoo let me never bring 'ithin My dwellen what's a-won by wrong, An' can't come in 'ithout a sin; Vor only zee how long The waggon marks in drong, did show W' leaves, wi' gra.s.s, wi' groun' wi' snow.

NANNY'S NEW ABODE.

Now day by day, at lofty height, O zummer noons, the burnen zun 'Ve a-show'd avore our eastward zight, The sky-blue zide ov Hameldon, An' shone agean, on new-mow'd ground, Wi' ha a-piled up grey in pook, An' down on leazes, bennet-brown'd, An' wheat a-vell avore the hook; Till, under elems tall, The leaves do lie on leanen lands, In leater light o' Fall.

An' last year, we did zee the red O' dawn vrom Ash-knap's thatchen oves, An' walk on crumpled leaves a-laid In gra.s.sy rook-trees' timber'd groves, Now, here, the cooler days do shrink To vewer hours o' zunny sky, While zedge, a-weaven by the brink O' shallow brooks, do slowly die.

An' on the timber tall, The boughs, half beare, do bend above The bulgen banks in Fall.

There, we'd a spring o' water near, Here, water's deep in wink-dran'd wells, The church 'tis true, is nigh out here, Too nigh wi' vive loud-boomen bells.

There, naghbours wer vull wide a-spread, But vo'k be here too clwose a-stow'd.

Vor childern now do stun woone's head, Wi' nasy pla bezide the road, Where big so well as small, The little lad, an' lump'ren lout, Do leap an' laugh thease Fall.

LEAVES A-VALLeN.

There the ash-tree leaves do vall In the wind a-blowen cwolder, An' my childern, tall or small, Since last Fall be woone year wolder.

Woone year wolder, woone year dearer, Till when they do leave my he'th, I shall be noo mwore a hearer O' their vaces or their me'th.

There dead ash leaves be a-toss'd In the wind, a-blowen stronger, An' our life-time, since we lost Souls we lov'd, is woone year longer.