Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/280

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264
POEMS OF RURAL LIFE.

Zoo when, at last, I hung my head
 Wi’ thirsty lips a-burnèn dry,
I come bezide a river-bed
 Where water flow’d so blue’s the sky;
 An’ there I meäde me up
 O’ coltsvoot leaf a cup,
Where water vrom his lip o’ gray,
Wer sweet to sip thik burnèn day.

But when our work is right, a jaÿ
 Do come to bless us in its traïn,
An’ hardships ha’ zome good to paÿ
 The thoughtvul soul vor all their païn:
 The het do sweetèn sheäde,
 An’ weary lim’s ha’ meäde
A bed o’ slumber, still an’ sound,
By woody hill or grassy mound.

An’ while I zot in sweet delaÿ
 Below an elem on a hill,
Where boughs a-halfway up did swaÿ
 In sheädes o’ lim’s above em still,
 An’ blue sky show’d between
 The flutt’rèn leäves o’ green;
I woulden gi’e that gloom an’ sheäde
Vor any room that wealth ha’ meäde.

But oh! that vo’k that have the roads
 Where weary-vooted souls do pass,
Would leäve bezide the stwone vor lwoads,
 A little strip vor zummer grass;
 That when the stwones do bruise
 An’ burn an’ gall our tooes,
We then mid cool our veet on beds
O’ wild-thyme sweet, or deäisy-heads.