Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect. Barnes William

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      THE SPRING.

      When wintry weather's all a-done,

      An' brooks do sparkle in the zun,

      An' nâisy-buildèn rooks do vlee

      Wi' sticks toward their elem tree;

      When birds do zing, an' we can zee

      Upon the boughs the buds o' spring—

      Then I'm as happy as a king,

      A-vield wi' health an' zunsheen.

      Vor then the cowslip's hangèn flow'r

      A-wetted in the zunny show'r,

      Do grow wi' vi'lets, sweet o' smell,

      Bezide the wood-screen'd grægle's bell;

      Where drushes' aggs, wi' sky-blue shell,

      Do lie in mossy nest among

      The thorns, while they do zing their zong

      At evenèn in the zunsheen.

      An' God do meäke his win' to blow

      An' raïn to vall vor high an' low,

      An' bid his mornèn zun to rise

      Vor all alike, an' groun' an' skies

      Ha' colors vor the poor man's eyes:

      An' in our trials He is near,

      To hear our mwoan an' zee our tear,

      An' turn our clouds to zunsheen.

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      An' many times when I do vind

      Things all goo wrong, an' vo'k unkind,

      To zee the happy veedèn herds,

      An' hear the zingèn o' the birds,

      Do soothe my sorrow mwore than words;

      Vor I do zee that 'tis our sin

      Do meäke woone's soul so dark 'ithin,

      When God would gi'e woone zunsheen.