Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect by William Barnes. Second Collection. Second Edition |
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ANGELS BY THE DOOR. |
 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
158
ANGELS BY THE DOOR.
Oh! there be angels evermwore,
A-passèn onward by the door,
A-zent to teäke our jaÿs, or come
To bring us zome—O Meärianne.
Though doors be shut, an' bars be stout,
Noo bolted door can keep em out;
But they wull leäve us ev'ry thing
They have to bring—My Meärianne.
A-passèn onward by the door,
A-zent to teäke our jaÿs, or come
To bring us zome—O Meärianne.
Though doors be shut, an' bars be stout,
Noo bolted door can keep em out;
But they wull leäve us ev'ry thing
They have to bring—My Meärianne.
An' zoo the days a-stealèn by,
Wi' zuns a-ridèn drough the sky,
Do bring us things to leäve us sad,
Or meäke us glad—O Meärianne.
The day that's mild, the day that's stern,
Do teäke, in stillness, each his turn;
An' evils at their worst mid mend,
Or even end—My Meärianne.
Wi' zuns a-ridèn drough the sky,
Do bring us things to leäve us sad,
Or meäke us glad—O Meärianne.
The day that's mild, the day that's stern,
Do teäke, in stillness, each his turn;
An' evils at their worst mid mend,
Or even end—My Meärianne.
But still, if we can only bear
Wi' faïth an' love, our païn an' ceäre,
We shan't vind missèn jaÿs a-lost,
Though we be crost—O Meärianne.
But all a-took to heav'n, an' stow'd
Where we can't weäste em on the road,
As we do wander to an' fro,
Down here below—My Meärianne.
Wi' faïth an' love, our païn an' ceäre,
We shan't vind missèn jaÿs a-lost,
Though we be crost—O Meärianne.
159
Where we can't weäste em on the road,
As we do wander to an' fro,
Down here below—My Meärianne.
But there be jaÿs I'd soonest choose
To keep, vrom them that I must lose;
Your worksome hands to help my tweil,
Your cheerful smile—O Meärianne.
The Zunday bells o' yonder tow'r,
The moonlight sheädes o' my own bow'r,
An' rest avore our vier-zide,
At evenèn-tide—My Meärianne.
To keep, vrom them that I must lose;
Your worksome hands to help my tweil,
Your cheerful smile—O Meärianne.
The Zunday bells o' yonder tow'r,
The moonlight sheädes o' my own bow'r,
An' rest avore our vier-zide,
At evenèn-tide—My Meärianne.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |