Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect. Barnes William
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Название: Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect
Автор: Barnes William
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4057664584052
isbn:
* "To bring woone gwaïn,"—to bring one going;
to bring one on his way.
EVENÈN TWILIGHT.
Ah! they vew zummers brought us round
The happiest days that we've a-vound,
When in the orcha'd, that did stratch
To westward out avore the patch
Ov high-bough'd wood, an' shelve to catch
The western zun-light, we did meet
Wi' merry tongues an' skippèn veet
At evenèn in the twilight.
The evenèn aïr did fan, in turn,
The cheäks the midday zun did burn.
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An' zet the russlèn leaves at plaÿ,
An' meäke the red-stemm'd brembles sway
In bows below the snow-white maÿ;
An' whirlèn roun' the trees, did sheäke
Jeäne's raven curls about her neck,
They evenèns in the twilight.
An' there the yollow light did rest
Upon the bank towárd the west,
An' twitt'rèn birds did hop in drough
The hedge, an' many a skippèn shoe
Did beät the flowers, wet wi' dew,
As underneäth the tree's wide limb
Our merry sheäpes did jumpy, dim,
They evenèns in the twilight.
How sweet's the evenèn dusk to rove
Along wi' woone that we do love!
When light enough is in the sky
To sheäde the smile an' light the eye
'Tis all but heaven to be by;
An' bid, in whispers soft an' light
'S the ruslèn ov a leaf, "Good night,"
At evenèn in the twilight.
An' happy be the young an' strong,
That can but work the whole day long
So merry as the birds in spring;
An' have noo ho vor any thing
Another day mid teäke or bring;
But meet, when all their work's a-done,
In orcha'd vor their bit o' fun
At evenèn in the twilight.
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EVENÈN IN THE VILLAGE.
Now the light o' the west is a-turn'd to gloom,
An' the men be at hwome vrom ground;
An' the bells be a-zendèn all down the Coombe
From tower, their mwoansome sound.
An' the wind is still,
An' the house-dogs do bark,
An' the rooks be a-vled to the elems high an' dark,
An' the water do roar at mill.
An' the flickerèn light drough the window-peäne
Vrom the candle's dull fleäme do shoot,
An' young Jemmy the smith is a-gone down leäne,
A-plaÿèn his shrill-vaïced flute.
An' the miller's man
Do zit down at his ease
On the seat that is under the cluster o' trees.
Wi' his pipe an' his cider can.
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 teäke a higher daily zweep,
Wi' cloudless feäce a-flingèn down
His sparklèn light upon the groun'.
The air's a-streamèn soft—come drow
The windor open; let it blow
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In drough the house, where vire, an' door
A-shut, kept out the cwold avore.
Come, let the vew dull embers die,
An' come below the open sky;
An' wear your best, vor fear the groun'
In colours gaÿ mid sheäme your gown:
An' goo an' rig wi' me a mile
Or two up over geäte an' stile,
Drough zunny parrocks that do leäd,
Wi' crooked hedges, to the meäd,
Where elems high, in steätely ranks,
Do rise vrom yollow cowslip-banks,
An' birds do twitter vrom the spraÿ
O' bushes deck'd СКАЧАТЬ