 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
32
THE RWOSE IN THE DARK.
In zummer, leäte at evenèn tide,
I zot to spend a moonless hour
'Ithin the window, wi' the zide
A-bound wi' rwoses out in flow'r,
Bezide the bow'r, vorsook o' birds,
An' listen'd to my true-love's words.
I zot to spend a moonless hour
'Ithin the window, wi' the zide
A-bound wi' rwoses out in flow'r,
Bezide the bow'r, vorsook o' birds,
An' listen'd to my true-love's words.
A-risèn to her comely height,
She push'd the swingèn ceäsement round;
And I could hear, beyond my zight,
The win'-blown beech-tree softly sound,
On higher ground, a-swaÿèn slow,
On drough my happy hour below.
She push'd the swingèn ceäsement round;
And I could hear, beyond my zight,
The win'-blown beech-tree softly sound,
On higher ground, a-swaÿèn slow,
On drough my happy hour below.
An' tho' the darkness then did hide
The dewy rwose's blushèn bloom,
He still did cast sweet aïr inside
To Jeäne, a-chattèn in the room;
An' though the gloom did hide her feäce,
Her words did bïnd me to the pleäce.
The dewy rwose's blushèn bloom,
He still did cast sweet aïr inside
To Jeäne, a-chattèn in the room;
An' though the gloom did hide her feäce,
Her words did bïnd me to the pleäce.
An' there, while she, wi' runnèn tongue,
Did talk unzeen 'ithin the hall,
I thought her like the rwose that flung
His sweetness vrom his darken'd ball,
'Ithout the wall, an' sweet's the zight
Ov her bright feäce, by mornèn light.
Did talk unzeen 'ithin the hall,
I thought her like the rwose that flung
His sweetness vrom his darken'd ball,
'Ithout the wall, an' sweet's the zight
Ov her bright feäce, by mornèn light.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |