Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/221

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“What is it then theäse tower do meän,
A-built so feäir, an’ kept so cleän?”
“Ah! me,” he zaid, wi’ thoughtvul feäce,
“ ’Twer grief that zet theäse tower in pleäce.
The squier’s e’thly life’s a-blest
Wi’ gifts that mwost do teäke vor best;
The lofty-pinion’d rufs do rise
To screen his head vrom stormy skies;
His land’s a-spreadèn roun’ his hall,
An’ hands do leäbor at his call;
The while the ho’se do fling, wi’ pride,
His lofty head where he do guide;
But still his e’thly jaÿ’s a-vled,
His woone true friend, his wife, is dead.
Zoo now her happy soul’s a-gone,
An’ he in grief’s a-ling’rèn on,
Do do his heart zome good to show
His love to flesh an’ blood below.
An’ zoo he rear’d, wi’ smitten soul,
Theäse Leädy’s Tower upon the knowl.
An’ there you’ll zee the tow’r do spring
Twice ten veet up, as roun’s a ring,
Wi’ pillars under mwolded eäves,
Above their heads a-carv’d wi’ leaves;
An’ have to peäce, a-walkèn round
His voot, a hunderd veet o’ ground.
An’ there, above his upper wall,
A roundèd tow’r do spring so tall
’S a springèn arrow shot upright,
A hunderd giddy veet in height.
An’ if you’d like to straïn your knees
A-climèn up above the trees,
To zee, wi’ slowly wheelèn feäce,
The vur-sky’d land about the pleäce,
You’ll have a flight o’ steps to wear
Vor forty veet, up steäir by steäir,