 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
VO'K A-COMEN INTO CHURCH.
The church do seem a touchèn zight,
When vo'k, a-comèn in at door,
Do softly tread the long-aïl'd vloor
Below the pillar'd arches' height,
Wi' bells a-pealèn,
Vo'k a-kneelèn,
Hearts a-healèn, wi' the love
An' peäce a-zent em vrom above.
When vo'k, a-comèn in at door,
Do softly tread the long-aïl'd vloor
Below the pillar'd arches' height,
Wi' bells a-pealèn,
Vo'k a-kneelèn,
Hearts a-healèn, wi' the love
An' peäce a-zent em vrom above.
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An' there, wi' mild an' thoughtvul feäce,
Wi' downcast eyes, an' vaïces dum',
The wold an' young do slowly come,
An' teäke in stillness each his pleäce,
A-zinkèn slowly,
Kneelèn lowly,
Seekèn holy thoughts alwone,
In praÿ'r avore their Meäker's throne.
Wi' downcast eyes, an' vaïces dum',
The wold an' young do slowly come,
An' teäke in stillness each his pleäce,
A-zinkèn slowly,
Kneelèn lowly,
Seekèn holy thoughts alwone,
In praÿ'r avore their Meäker's throne.
An' there be sons in youthvul pride,
An' fathers weak wi' years an' païn,
An' daughters in their mother's traïn,
The tall wi' smaller at their zide;
Heads in murnèn
Never turnèn,
Cheäks a-burnèn, wi' the het
O' youth, an' eyes noo tears do wet.
An' fathers weak wi' years an' païn,
An' daughters in their mother's traïn,
The tall wi' smaller at their zide;
Heads in murnèn
Never turnèn,
Cheäks a-burnèn, wi' the het
O' youth, an' eyes noo tears do wet.
There friends do settle, zide by zide,
The knower speechless to the known;
Their vaïce is there vor God alwone;
To flesh an' blood their tongues be tied.
Grief a-wringèn,
Jaÿ a-zingèn,
Praÿ'r a-bringèn welcome rest
So softly to the troubled breast.
The knower speechless to the known;
Their vaïce is there vor God alwone;
To flesh an' blood their tongues be tied.
Grief a-wringèn,
Jaÿ a-zingèn,
Praÿ'r a-bringèn welcome rest
So softly to the troubled breast.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |