Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect :: :: University of Virginia Library

No, no, good Meäster Collins cried,
Why you've a good wife at your zide;
Zoo do believe the heart is true
That gi'ed up all bezide vor you,
An' still beheäve as you begun
To seek the love that you've a-won
When woonce in dewy June,
In hours o' hope soft eyes did flash
Each bright below his sheädy lash,
A-glisnèn to the moon.

Think how her girlhood met noo ceäre
To peäle the bloom her feäce did weär,
An' how her glossy temple prest
Her pillow down, in still feäced rest,
While sheädes o' window bars did vall
In moonlight on the gloomy wall,

In cool-aïr'd nights o' June;
The while her lids, wi' bendèn streäks
O' lashes, met above her cheäks,
A-bloomèn to the moon.

Think how she left her childhood's pleäce,
An' only sister's long-known feäce,
An' brother's jokes so much a-miss'd,
An' mother's cheäk, the last a-kiss'd;
An' how she lighted down avore
Her new abode, a husband's door,
Your weddèn night in June;
Wi' heart that beät wi' hope an' fear,
While on each eye-lash hung a tear,
A-glisnèn to the moon.

Think how her faether zot all dum',
A-thinkèn on her, back at hwome,
The while grey axan gather'd thick,
On dyèn embers, on the brick;
An' how her mother look'd abrode,
Droo window, down the moon-bright road,
Thik cloudless night o' June,
Wi' tears upon her lashes big
As raïn drops on a slender twig,
A-glisnèn to the moon.

Zoo don't zit thoughtless at your cup
An' keep your wife a-wäitèn up,
The while the clock's a-tickèn slow
The chilly hours o' vrost an' snow,

Until the zinkèn candle's light
Is out avore her drowsy sight,
A-dimm'd wi' grief too soon;
A-leävèn there alwone to murn
The feädèn cheäk that woonce did burn,
A-bloomèn to the moon.