Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/430

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POEMS OF RURAL LIFE.

You can’t but stop an’ spend a cwein
Wi’ leädies that ha’ goods so fine;
    An’ all to meäke, vor childern’s seäke,
    The School at Maïden Newton.

THINGS DO COME ROUND.

Above the leafless hazzle-wride
 The wind-drove raïn did quickly vall,
An’ on the meäple’s ribby zide
 Did hang the raïn-drops quiv’rèn ball;
Out where the brook o’ foamy yollow
Roll’d along the meäd’s deep hollow,
An’ noo birds wer out to beät,
Wi’ flappèn wings, the vleèn wet
O’ zunless clouds on flow’rless ground.
How time do bring the seasons round!

The moss, a-beät vrom trees, did lie
 Upon the ground in ashen droves,
An’ western wind did huffle high,
 Above the sheds’ quick-drippèn oves.
An’ where the ruslèn straw did sound
 So dry, a-shelter’d in the lew,
I staïed alwone, an’ weather-bound,
 An’ thought on times, long years agoo.
Wi’ water-floods on flow’rless ground.
How time do bring the seasons round!

We then, in childhood plaÿ, did seem
 In work o’ men to teäke a peärt,
A-drevèn on our wild bwoy team,
 Or lwoadèn o’ the tiny cart.
Or, on our little refters, spread
The zedgen ruf above our head.