Poems Of Rural Life In The Dorset Dialect Part 64

Look down the grove an' zee The boughs a-swingen on the tree, An' beaten weaves below.

Zee how the tweilen vo'k do bend Upon their windward track, Wi' ev'ry string, an' garment's end, A-flutt'ren at their back."

I cried, wi' sorrow sore a-tried, An' hung, wi' Jenny at my zide, My head upon my breast.

Wi' strokes o' grief so hard to bear, 'Tis hard vor souls to rest.

Can all be dull, when zuns do glow?

Oh! no; look down the grove, Where zides o' trees be bright above; An' weaves do sheen below; An' neaked stems o' wood in hedge Do gleam in streaks o' light, An' rocks do gleare upon the ledge O' yonder zunny height, "No, Jeane, wi' trials now withdrawn, Lik' darkness at a happy dawn."

I cried, "Noo mwore despair; Wi' our lost peace agean a-vound, 'Tis wrong to harbour ceare."

SLIDeN.

When wind wer keen, Where ivy-green Did clwosely wind Roun' woak-tree rind, An' ice shone bright, An' meads wer white, wi' thin-spread snow Then on the pond, a-spreaden wide, We bwoys did zweep along the slide, A-striken on in merry row.

There rudd-feaced, In busy heaste, We all did wag A spanken lag, To win good speed, When we, straght-knee'd, wi' foreright tooes, Should shoot along the slipp'ry track, Wi' grinden sound, a-getten slack, The slower went our clumpen shoes.

Vor zome slow chap, Did teake mishap, As he did veel His hinder heel A-het a thump, Wi' zome big lump, o' voot an' shoe.

Down vell the voremost wi' a squall, An' down the next went wi' a sprawl, An' down went all the laughen crew.

As to an' fro, In merry row, We all went round On ice, on ground The madens nigh A-stannen shy, did zee us slide, An' in their eap.r.o.ns small, did vwold Their little hands, a-got red-cwold, Or slide on ice o' two veet wide.

By leafless copse, An' beare tree-tops, An' zun's low beams, An' ice-boun' streams, An' vrost-boun' mill, A-stannen still. Come wind, blow on, An' gi'e the bwoys, this Chris'mas tide, The glitt'ren ice to meake a slide, As we had our slide, years agone.

LWONESOMENESS.

As I do zew, wi' nimble hand, In here avore the window's light, How still do all the housegear stand Around my lwonesome zight.

How still do all the housegear stand Since Willie now 've a-left the land.

The rwose-tree's window-sheaden bow Do hang in leaf, an' win'-blow'd flow'rs, Avore my lwonesome eyes do show Thease bright November hours.

Avore my lwonesome eyes do show Wi' nwone but I to zee em blow.

The sheades o' leafy buds, avore The peanes, do sheake upon the gla.s.s, An' stir in light upon the vloor, Where now vew veet do pa.s.s, An' stir in light upon the vloor, Where there's a-stirren nothen mwore.

This win' mid dreve upon the man, My brother's s.h.i.+p, a-plowen foam, But not bring mother, cwold, nor ran, At her now happy hwome.

But not bring mother, cwold, nor ran, Where she is out o' pain.

Zoo now that I'm a-mwopen dumb, A-keepen father's house, do you Come of'en wi' your work vrom hwome, Vor company. Now do.

Come of'en wi' your work vrom hwome, Up here a-while. Do come.

A SNOWY NIGHT.

'Twer at night, an' a keen win' did blow Vrom the east under peale-twinklen stars, All a-zweepen along the white snow; On the groun', on the trees, on the bars, Vrom the hedge where the win' russled drough, There a light-russlen snow-doust did vall; An' noo pleace wer a-vound that wer lew, But the shed, or the ivy-hung wall.

Then I knock'd at the wold pa.s.sage door Wi' the win'-driven snow on my locks; Till, a-comen along the cwold vloor, There my Jenny soon answer'd my knocks.

Then the wind, by the door a-swung wide, Flung some snow in her clear-bloomen feace, An' she blink'd wi' her head all a-zide, An' a-chucklen, went back to her pleace.

An' in there, as we zot roun' the brands, Though the talkers wer manly the men, Bloomen Jeane, wi' her work in her hands, Did put in a good word now an' then.

An' when I took my leave, though so bleak Wer the weather, she went to the door, Wi' a smile, an' a blush on the cheak That the snow had a-smitten avore.

THE YEAR-CLOCK.

We zot bezide the leafy wall, Upon the bench at evenfall, While aunt led off our minds vrom ceare Wi' veairy teales, I can't tell where: An' vound us woone among her stock O' feables, o' the girt Year-clock.

His feace wer blue's the zummer skies, An' wide's the zight o' looken eyes, For hands, a zun wi' glowen feace, An' pealer moon wi' swifter peace, Did wheel by stars o' twinklen light, By bright-wall'd day, an' dark-treed night; An' down upon the high-sky'd land, A-reachen wide, on either hand, Wer hill an' dell wi' win'-swa'd trees, An' lights a-zweepen over seas, An' gleamen cliffs, an' bright-wall'd tow'rs, Wi' sheades a-marken on the hours; An' as the feace, a-rollen round, Brought comely sheapes along the ground.

The Spring did come in winsome steate Below a glowen ranbow geate; An' fan wi' ar a-blowen weak, Her glossy heair, an' rwosy cheak, As she did shed vrom oben hand, The leapen zeed on vurrow'd land; The while the rook, wi' heasty flight, A-floaten in the glowen light, Did bear avore her glossy breast A stick to build her lofty nest, An' strong-limb'd Tweil, wi' steady hands, Did guide along the vallow lands The heavy zull, wi' bright-shear'd beam, Avore the weary oxen team, Wi' Spring a-gone there come behind Sweet Zummer, ja ov ev'ry mind, Wi' feace a-beamen to beguile Our weary souls ov ev'ry tweil.

While birds did warble in the dell In softest ar o' sweetest smell; An' she, so winsome-feair did vwold Her comely limbs in green an' goold, An' wear a rwosy wreath, wi' studs O' berries green, an' new-born buds, A-fring'd in colours vier-bright, Wi' sheapes o' b.u.t.tervlees in flight.

When Zummer went, the next ov all Did come the sheape o' brown-feac'd Fall, A-smilen in a comely gown O' green, a-shot wi' yellow-brown, A-border'd wi' a goolden stripe O' fringe, a-meade o' corn-ears ripe, An' up agean her comely zide, Upon her rounded earm, did ride A perty basket, all a-twin'd O' slender stems wi' leaves an' rind, A-vill'd wi' fruit the trees did shed, All ripe, in purple, goold, an' red; An' busy Leabor there did come A-zingen zongs ov harvest hwome, An' red-ear'd dogs did briskly run Roun' cheervul Leisure wi' his gun, Or stan' an' mark, wi' stedvast zight, The speckled pa'tridge rise in flight.

An' next agean to mild-feac'd Fall Did come peale Winter, last ov all, A-benden down, in thoughtvul mood, Her head 'ithin a snow-white hood A-deck'd wi' icy-jewels, bright An' cwold as twinklen stars o' night; An' there wer weary Leabor, slack O' veet to keep her vrozen track, A-looken off, wi' wistful eyes, To reefs o' smoke, that there did rise A-melten to the peale-feac'd zun, Above the houses' lofty tun.

An' there the girt Year-clock did goo By day an' night, vor ever true, Wi' mighty wheels a-rollen round 'Ithout a beat, 'ithout a sound.

NOT GOO HWOME TO-NIGHT.

No, no, why you've noo wife at hwome Abiden up till you do come, Zoo leave your hat upon the pin, Vor I'm your water. Here's your inn, Wi' chair to rest, an' bed to roost; You have but little work to do This vrosty time at hwome in mill, Your vrozen wheel's a-stannen still, The sleepen ice woont grind vor you.

No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night, Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill.

As I come by, to-day, where stood Wi' neaked trees, the purple wood, The scarlet hunter's ho'ses veet Tore up the sheaken ground, wind-fleet, Wi' reachen heads, an' panken hides; The while the flat-wing'd rooks in vlock.

Did zwim a-sheenen at their height; But your good river, since last night, Wer all a-vroze so still's a rock.

No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night, Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill.

Zee how the hufflen win' do blow, A-whirlen down the giddy snow: Zee how the sky's a-wearen dim, Behind the elem's neaked lim'.

That there do lean above the leane: Zoo teake your pleace bezide the dogs, An' sip a drop o' hwome-brew'd eale, An' zing your zong or tell your teale, While I do bat the vier wi' logs.

No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night, Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill.

Your meare's in steable wi' her hocks In straw above her vetterlocks, A-reachen up her meaney neck, An' pullen down good hay vrom reck, A-meaken slight o' snow an' sleet; She don't want you upon her back, To vall upon the slippery stwones On Hollyhul, an' break your bwones, Or miss, in snow, her hidden track.

No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night, Good Robin White, o' Craglin mill.

Here, Jenny, come pull out your key An' hansel, wi' zome tidy tea, The zilver pot that we do owe To your prize b.u.t.ter at the show, An' put zome bread upon the bwoard.

Ah! he do smile; now that 'ull do, He'll stay. Here, Polly, bring a light, We'll have a happy hour to-night, I'm thankvul we be in the lew.

No, no, he woont goo hwome to-night, Not Robin White, o' Craglin mill.