 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
THE LOVE CHILD.
Where the bridge out at Woodley did stride,
Wi' his wide arches' cool-sheäded bow,
Up above the clear brook that did slide
By the popples, befoam'd white as snow;
As the gil'cups did quiver among
The white deäsies, a-spread in a sheet,
There a quick-trippèn maïd come along,—
Aye, a girl wi' her light-steppèn veet.
Wi' his wide arches' cool-sheäded bow,
Up above the clear brook that did slide
By the popples, befoam'd white as snow;
As the gil'cups did quiver among
The white deäsies, a-spread in a sheet,
There a quick-trippèn maïd come along,—
Aye, a girl wi' her light-steppèn veet.
An' she cried “I do praÿ, is the road
Out to Lincham on here, by the meäd?”
An' “oh! yes,” I meäde answer, an' show'd
Her the waÿ it would turn an' would leäd:
“Goo along by the beech in the nook,
Where the childern do plaÿ in the cool,
To the steppèn-stwones over the brook,—
Aye, the grey blocks o' rock at the pool.”
Out to Lincham on here, by the meäd?”
An' “oh! yes,” I meäde answer, an' show'd
Her the waÿ it would turn an' would leäd:
51
Where the childern do plaÿ in the cool,
To the steppèn-stwones over the brook,—
Aye, the grey blocks o' rock at the pool.”
“Then you don't seem a-born an' a-bred,”
I spoke up, “at a pleäce here about;”
An' she answer'd, wi' cheäks up as red
As a piny but leäte a-come out,
“No, I liv'd wi' my uncle that died
Back in Eäpril, an' now I'm a-come
Here to Ham, to my mother, to bide,—
Aye, to her house to vind a new hwome.”
I spoke up, “at a pleäce here about;”
An' she answer'd, wi' cheäks up as red
As a piny but leäte a-come out,
“No, I liv'd wi' my uncle that died
Back in Eäpril, an' now I'm a-come
Here to Ham, to my mother, to bide,—
Aye, to her house to vind a new hwome.”
I'm asheäm'd that I wanted to knew
Any mwore of her childhood or life,
But then, why should so feäir a child grow
Where noo father did bide wi' his wife;
Then wi' blushes o' zunrisèn morn,
She replied “that it midden be known,
“Oh! they zent me awaÿ to be born,—
Aye' they hid me when zome would be shown.”
Any mwore of her childhood or life,
But then, why should so feäir a child grow
Where noo father did bide wi' his wife;
Then wi' blushes o' zunrisèn morn,
She replied “that it midden be known,
“Oh! they zent me awaÿ to be born,—
Aye' they hid me when zome would be shown.”
Oh! it meäde me a'most teary-ey'd,
An' I vound I a'most could ha' groan'd—
What! so winnèn, an' still cast a-zide—
What! so lovely, an' not to be own'd;
Oh! a God-gift a-treated wi' scorn,
Oh! a child that a Squier should own;
An' to zend her awäy to be born!—
Aye, to hide her where others be shown!
An' I vound I a'most could ha' groan'd—
What! so winnèn, an' still cast a-zide—
What! so lovely, an' not to be own'd;
Oh! a God-gift a-treated wi' scorn,
Oh! a child that a Squier should own;
An' to zend her awäy to be born!—
Aye, to hide her where others be shown!
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |