William Barnes

“ Her litsome heart by day or night;
An’ zoo, if we could teäke it right,
Do show He’ll meäke his burdens light
To weaker souls, an’ that his smile
Is sweet upon a harmless chile,
When they be dead that lov’d it. ”

“ Though the storm do beät down on my poll,
There’s a wife-brighten’d vier at the end o’ my road,
An’ her love vor the jaÿ o’ my soul. ”

“ MAY.
Come out o’door, ’tis Spring! ’tis Maÿ
The trees be green, the vields be gaÿ;
The weather’s warm, the winter blast,
Wi’ all his traïn o’ clouds, is past;
The zun do rise while vo’k do sleep. ”

“ To zome o’s broken-hearted!
The stronger mid the sooner die,
The gaÿer mid the sooner sigh;
An’ who do know
What grief’s below
The bells ov Alderburnham!
But still ’tis happiness to know
That there’s a God above us ”

“ Ah! when our wedded life begun,
Theäse clean-wall’d house of ours wer new;
Wi’ thatch as yollor as the zun
Avore the cloudless sky o’ blue;
The sky o’ blue that then did bound
The blue-hilled worold’s flow’ry ground. ”

“ Happer, to hop up as hailstones or rain-drops from ground or pavement in a hard storm, or as down-shaken apples; to fall so hard as to hop up at falling. Haps, a hasp. Ha'skim, halfskim cheese of milk skimmed only once. ”

“ Fine weather on his brow,
As he, in happy work, do kneel
Up roun’ the new-built mow,
That now do zwell in sich a size,
An’ rise to sich a height,
That, oh! the miller’s wistful eyes
Do sparkle at the zight. ”

“ Wi’ daïly health, an’ daïly bread,
An’ thatch above their shelter’d head,
They velt noo fear, an’ had noo spite,
To keep their eyes awake at night;
But slept in peace wi’ God on high
An’ man below, an’ fit to die. ”

“ The gravel heap that they’d a-meäde,
But never wash awaÿ the sheäde.
An’ zoo, when you can woonce vulvil
What’s feäir, a-tried by heaven’s light,
Why never fear that evil will
Can meäke a wrong o’ your good right. ”

“ Asleep upon their darksome beds,
The stars wer all awake, John.
Noo birds o’ day wer out to spread
Their wings above the gully’s bed,
An’ darkness roun’ the elem-tree
’D a-still’d the charmy childern’s glee. ”

“ When the vaïce o' the busy wold sheep dog is still,
An' the sheep-bells do tinkle all round;
Where noo tree vor a sheäde but the thorn is a-vound,
There, a zingèn a zong,
Or a-whislèn among
The sheep, the young shep'erd do bide all day long.
When the storm do come up wi' a thundery cloud
That do shut out the zunlight, an' high
Over head the wild thunder do rumble so loud,
An' the lightnèn do flash vrom the sky,
Where noo shelter's a-vound but his hut, that is nigh,
There out ov all harm,
In the dry an' the warm,
The poor little shep'erd do smile at the storm. ”

“ When the day do dry the dews.
Soon shall grass, a-vrosted bright,
Glisten white instead o’ green,
An’ the wind shall smite the cows,
Where the boughs be now their screen.
Things do change as years do vlee ”

“ BRINGEN WOONE GWAÏN [1] O’ ZUNDAYS.
Ah! John! how I do love to look
At theäse green hollor, an’ the brook
Among the withies that do hide
The stream, a-growèn at the zide;
An’ at the road athirt the wide
An’ shallow vword, where we young bwoys
Did peärt, when we did goo half-woys,
To bring ye gwaïn o’ Zundays. ”

“ THE WOODY HOLLOW.
If mem’ry, when our hope’s a-gone,
Could bring us dreams to cheat us on,
Ov happiness our hearts voun’ true
In years we come too quickly drough;
What days should come to me, but you,
That burn’d my youthvul cheäks wi’ zuns
O’ zummer, in my plaÿsome runs
About the woody hollow. ”

“ JOHN.
An’ how his head do wag, avore his steppèn lag.
Jist like a pigeon’s in a walk!
HER BROTHER.
Heigh! there, then, Joey, ben’t we proud
JEÄNE.
He can’t hear you among the crowd.
HER BROTHER.
Why, no, the thunder peals do drown the sound o’ wheels.
His own pipe is a-pitched too loud.
What, you here too?
RACKETÈN JOE.
⁠Yes, Sir, to you.
All o’ me that’s a-left.
JEÄNE.
A body plump’s a goodish lump
Where reämes ha’ such a heft.
JOHN.
Who lost his crown a-racèn?
RACKETÈN JOE.
⁠Who?
Zome silly chap abackèn you.
Well, now, an’ how do vo’k treat Jeäne? ”

“ An' she mid smile wi' your good feäce,
Or she mid walk your comely peäce,
But seem, although a-chattèn loud,
So dumb's a cloud, in that bright pleäce:
Would youth so feäir,
A-passèn there,
Be jaÿ or païn, be païn or jaÿ.
'Tis seldom strangth or comeliness
Do leäve us long. The house do show
Men's sons wi' mwore, as they ha' less,
An' daughters brisk, vor mothers slow.
A dawn do clear the night's dim sky,
Woone star do zink, an' woone goo high,
An' livèn gifts o' youth do vall,
Vrom girt to small, but never die:
An' should I view,
What God mid do,
Wi' jaÿ or païn, wi' païn or jaÿ? ”

“ An' answer to your long-call'd neäme.
KINDNESS.
Good Meäster Collins heärd woone day
A man a-talkèn, that did zay
It woulden answer to be kind,
He thought, to vo'k o' grov'lèn mind,
Vor they would only teäke it wrong,
That you be weak an' they be strong.
"No," cried the goodman, "never mind,
Let vo'k be thankless,—you be kind;
Don't do your good for e'thly ends
At man's own call vor man's amends.
Though souls befriended should remaïn
As thankless as the sea vor raïn,
On them the good's a-lost 'tis true,
But never can be lost to you. ”

“ In church at Grenley woone mid zee
A beam vrom wall to wall; a tree
That's longer than the church is wide,
An' zoo woone end o'n's drough outside,—
Not cut off short, but bound all round
Wi' lead, to keep en seäfe an' sound.
Back when the builders vu'st begun
The church,—as still the teäle do run,—
A man work'd wi' em; no man knew
Who 'twer, nor whither he did goo.
He wer as harmless as a chile,
An' work'd 'ithout a frown or smile,
Till any woaths or strife did rise
To overcast his sparklèn eyes:
An' then he'd call their minds vrom strife,
To think upon another life. ”

“ Vrom Goodman's lantern after night;
Horn vor the ears is woone to sound
Vor hunters out wi' ho'se an' hound;
But horn that vo'k do buy to smell o'
Is hart's-horn. J. Is it? What d'ye tell o'
How proud we be, vor ben't we smart?
Aye, horn is horn, an' hart is hart.
Well here then, Anne, while we be at it,
'S a ball vor you if you can bat it.
On dree-lags, two-lags, by the zide
O' vower-lags, woonce did zit wi' pride,
When vower-lags, that velt a prick,
Vrom zix-lags, het two lags a kick.
An' two an' dree-lags vell, all vive,
Slap down, zome dead an' zome alive.
A. Teeh! heeh! ”

“ Ho'se-tinger, the dragon-fly, Libellula. Horse does not mean a horse, but is an adjective meaning coarse or big of its kind, as in horse-radish, or horse-chesnut; most likely the old form of the word gave name to the horse as the big beast where there was not an elephant or other greater one. The dragon-fly is, in some parts called the "tanging ether" or tanging adder, from tang, a long thin body, and a sting. Very few Dorset folk believe that the dragon-fly stings horses any more than that the horse eats horse-brambles or horse-mushrooms. ”

“ When zummer doust is all a-laid
Below our litty shoes, O;
When all the raïn-chill’d flow’rs be dead,
That now do drink the dews, O;
When beauty’s neck, that’s now a-show’d,
’S a-muffled to the chin, O ”

“ Drough sheädes o' poplars at my zide,
An' there wi' love that still do live,
Your feäce did wear the smile o' youth,
The while you spoke wi' age's truth,
An' wi' a rwosebud's mossy ball,
I deck'd your bosom vrom the wall.
Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu!
The wall is wold, my grief is new.
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But now when winter's raïn do vall,
An' wind do beät ageän the hall,
The while upon the wat'ry wall
In spots o' grey the moss do grow;
The ruf noo mwore shall overspread
The pillor ov our weary head,
Nor shall the rwose's mossy ball
Behang vor you the house's wall.
Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu! ”

“ An’ maïdens gaÿ, wi’ plaÿsome chaps,
A-zot wi’ dinners in their laps,
Did talk wi’ merry words that rung
Around the ring, vrom tongue to tongue;
An’ welcome, when the leaves ha’ died,
Be zummer thoughts in winter-tide. ”

“ As we do rest by lofty ranks
Ov elems on the flow’ry banks;
How cool’s the sheade, or warm’s the lewth,
Bezide a zummer hedge in blooth.
But oh! below woone hedge’s zide
Our jaÿ do come a-most to pride ”

“ The steps of haymaking by hand, in the rich meadow lands of Blackmore, ere machines were brought into the field, were these:—The grass being mown, and lying in swath, it was (1) tedded, spread evenly over the ground; (2) it was turned to dry the under side; (3) it was in the evening raked up into rollers, each roller of the grass of the stretch of one rake, and the rollers were sometimes put up into hay cocks; (4) in the morning the rollers were cast abroad into pa’sels (parcels) or broad lists, with clear ground between each two ”

“ Still draw their white-stemm'd reäkes among
The long-back'd weäles an' new-meäde pooks,
By brown-stemm'd trees an' cloty brooks;
But have noo call to spweil their looks
By work, that God could never meäke
Their weaker han's to underteäke,
Though skies mid be a-cleärèn.
'Tis wrong vor women's han's to clips
The zull an' reap-hook, speädes an' whips;
An' men abroad, should leäve, by right,
Woone faïthful heart at hwome to light
Their bit o' vier up at night,
An' hang upon the hedge to dry
Their snow-white linen, when the sky
In winter is a-cleärèn. ”

“ An’ in the storm, my fancy’s eyes
Can look upon their own blue skies.
The laggèn moon mid faïl to rise,
But when the daylight’s blue an’ green
Be gone, my fancy’s zun do sheen
At hwome at Grenley Water. ”

“ An’ merry maïdens’ vaïces vied
In echoes sh’ill, vrom wall to shed,
As shiv’rèn in their frocks o’ white
They come to bid us there “Good night,”
Vrom hall, a-hung wi’ holm, that rung
Wi’ many a tongue o’ wold an’ young. ”