 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
GOOD NIGHT.
While down the meads wound slow,
Water vor green-wheel'd mills,
Over the streams bright bow,
Win' blew vrom dark-back'd hills.
Birds on the wind shot along down steep
Slopes, wi' a swift-swung zweep.
Dim grew the red-streak'd west.
Lim'-weary souls “Good rest.”
Water vor green-wheel'd mills,
Over the streams bright bow,
Win' blew vrom dark-back'd hills.
Birds on the wind shot along down steep
Slopes, wi' a swift-swung zweep.
Dim grew the red-streak'd west.
Lim'-weary souls “Good rest.”
Up on the plough'd hill brow,
Still wer the zull's wheel'd beam,
Still wer the red-wheel'd plough,
Free o' the strong-limb'd team,
Still wer the shop that the smith meäde ring,
Dark where the sparks did spring;
Low, shot the zun's last beams.
Lim'-weary souls “Good dreams.”
Still wer the zull's wheel'd beam,
Still wer the red-wheel'd plough,
Free o' the strong-limb'd team,
Still wer the shop that the smith meäde ring,
Dark where the sparks did spring;
Low, shot the zun's last beams.
Lim'-weary souls “Good dreams.”
28
Where I vrom dark bank-sheädes
Turn'd up the west hill road,
Where all the green grass bleädes,
Under the zunlight glow'd.
Startled I met, as the zunbeams plaÿ'd
Light, wi' a zunsmote maïd,
Come vor my day's last zight.
Zun-brighten'd maïd “Good night.”
Turn'd up the west hill road,
Where all the green grass bleädes,
Under the zunlight glow'd.
Startled I met, as the zunbeams plaÿ'd
Light, wi' a zunsmote maïd,
Come vor my day's last zight.
Zun-brighten'd maïd “Good night.”
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |