Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect, Volume 2

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John Russell Smith, 1863

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Page 1 - The primrwose in the sheade do blow, The cowslip in the zun, The thyme upon the down do grow, The clote where streams do run; An' where do pretty maidens grow An' blow, but where the tow'r Do rise among the bricken tuns, In Blackmwore by the Stour? If you could zee their comely gait, An' pretty fea'ces' smiles, A-trippen on so light o' wai'ght, An' steppen off the stiles; A-gwai'n to church, as bells do swing An' ring 'ithin the tow'r, You'd own the pretty maidens' plea'ce Is Blackmwore by the Stour?
Page 2 - You'd cry to bachelors at hwome — " Here, come : 'ithin an hour You'll vind ten maidens to your mind, In Blackmwore by the Stour.
Page 160 - Hearts a-healen, wi' the love An' peace a-zent em vrom above. An' there, wi' mild an' thoughtvul feace, Wi' downcast eyes, an' vaices dum', The wold an' young do slowly come, An' teake in stillness each his pleace, A-zinken slowly, Kneelen lowly, Seeken holy thoughts alwone, In pray'r avore their Meaker's throne. An' there be sons in youthvul pride, An' fathers weak wi
Page 137 - Wi' wind that plied the elem's lim' ; Vrom west to east the stream did glide, A-sheenen wide, wi' winden brim. How feair, I thought, avore the sky The slowly-zwimmen clouds do look ; How soft the win's a-streamen by ; How bright do roll the weavy brook : When there, a-passen on my right, A-walken slow, an' treaden light, Young Jessie Lee come by, an' there Took all my ceare, an
Page 88 - I took her pail, an' left Her neck a-freed vrom all its heft ; An' she a-looken up an' down, Wi' sheaply head an* glossy crown, Then took my zide, an' kept my peace A-talken on wi' smilen feace, An* zetten things in sich a light, I'd fain ha' hear'd her talk all night ; An' when I brought her milk avore The geate, she took it in to door, An' if her pail had but allow'd Her head to vail, she would ha' bow'd, An' still, as 'twer, I had the zight Ov" her sweet smile, droughout the night.
Page 156 - I don't grieve to miss ye now, As I do grieve at hwome. Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard Your vaice do never sound, I'll eat the bit I can avword A-vield upon the ground ; Below the darksome bough, my love, Where you did never dine, An' I don't grieve to miss ye now, As I at hwome do pine.
Page 116 - Had a-broke drough long grass in his park; Vor he went, wi' a smile, vor to meet Wi' the trespassers while they did pass, An' he zaid, ' I do fear you'll catch cwold in your veet, You've a-walk'd drough so much o
Page 148 - An' tell me he would do me this or that, I can't help thinken o' the big bwoy's trick-like. An' then, vor all I can but wag my hat An' thank en, I do veel a little shy.
Page 155 - Where flat-bough'd beech do grow: Below the beeches' bough, my love, Where you did never come, An' I don't look to meet ye now, As I do look at hwome. Since you noo mwore be at my zide, In walks in zummer het, I'll goo alwone where mist do ride, Drough trees a-drippen wet: Below the rain-wet bough, my love, Where you did never come, An' I don't grieve to miss ye now, As I do grieve at hwome.
Page 36 - I'm only a-blest vrom above, They'll meiike me amends wi' their love, 35 Though I shall be never a-spweil'd Wi' the service that money can buy ; Still the hands ov a wife an' a child Be the blessens ov low or ov high ; An...

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