Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect by William Barnes. Second Collection. Second Edition |
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THE VIER-ZIDE. |
 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
THE VIER-ZIDE.
'Tis zome vo'ks jaÿ to teäke the road,
An' goo abro'd, a-wand'rèn wide,
Vrom shere to shere, vrom pleäce to pleäce,
The swiftest peäce that vo'k can ride.
But I've a jaÿ 'ithin the door,
Wi' friends avore the vier-zide.
An' goo abro'd, a-wand'rèn wide,
Vrom shere to shere, vrom pleäce to pleäce,
The swiftest peäce that vo'k can ride.
But I've a jaÿ 'ithin the door,
Wi' friends avore the vier-zide.
An' zoo, when winter skies do lour,
An' when the Stour's a-rollèn wide,
Drough bridge-voot raïls, a-païnted white,
To be at night, the trav'llers guide,
Gi'e me a pleäce that's warm an' dry,
A-zittèn nigh my vier-zide.
An' when the Stour's a-rollèn wide,
Drough bridge-voot raïls, a-païnted white,
To be at night, the trav'llers guide,
Gi'e me a pleäce that's warm an' dry,
A-zittèn nigh my vier-zide.
73
Vor where do love o' kith an' kin,
At vu'st begin, or grow an' wride,
Till souls a-lov'd so young, be wold,
Though never cwold, drough time nor tide,
But where in me'th their gather'd veet
Do often meet—the vier-zide.
At vu'st begin, or grow an' wride,
Till souls a-lov'd so young, be wold,
Though never cwold, drough time nor tide,
But where in me'th their gather'd veet
Do often meet—the vier-zide.
If, when a friend ha' left the land,
I shook his hand a-most wet-eyed,
I velt too well the op'nèn door
Would leäd noo mwore where he did bide,
An' where I heärd his vaïces sound,
In me'th around the vier-zide.
I shook his hand a-most wet-eyed,
I velt too well the op'nèn door
Would leäd noo mwore where he did bide,
An' where I heärd his vaïces sound,
In me'th around the vier-zide.
As I've a-zeed how vast do vall
The mwold'rèn hall, the wold vo'ks pride,
Where merry hearts wer woonce a-ved
Wi' daily bread, why I've a-sigh'd,
To zee the wall so green wi' mwold,
An' vind so cwold the vier-zide.
The mwold'rèn hall, the wold vo'ks pride,
Where merry hearts wer woonce a-ved
Wi' daily bread, why I've a-sigh'd,
To zee the wall so green wi' mwold,
An' vind so cwold the vier-zide.
An' Chris'mas still mid bring his me'th
To ouer he'th, but if we tried
To gather all that woonce did wear
Gay feäces there! Ah! zome ha' died,
An' zome be gone to leäve wi' gaps
O' missèn laps, the vier-zide.
To ouer he'th, but if we tried
To gather all that woonce did wear
Gay feäces there! Ah! zome ha' died,
An' zome be gone to leäve wi' gaps
O' missèn laps, the vier-zide.
74
But come now, bring us in your hand,
A heavy brand o' woak a-dried,
To cheer us wi' his het an' light,
While vrosty night, so starry-skied,
Go gather souls that time do speäre
To zit an' sheäre our vier-zide.
A heavy brand o' woak a-dried,
To cheer us wi' his het an' light,
While vrosty night, so starry-skied,
Go gather souls that time do speäre
To zit an' sheäre our vier-zide.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |