Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect by William Barnes. First Collection. Fourth Edition |
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THE CLOTE.
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 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
THE CLOTE.
(Water-lily.)
O zummer clote! when the brook's a-glidèn
So slow an' smooth down his zedgy bed,
Upon thy broad leaves so seäfe a-ridèn
The water's top wi' thy yollow head,
By alder's heads, O,
An' bulrush beds, O,
Thou then dost float, goolden zummer clote!
So slow an' smooth down his zedgy bed,
Upon thy broad leaves so seäfe a-ridèn
The water's top wi' thy yollow head,
By alder's heads, O,
An' bulrush beds, O,
Thou then dost float, goolden zummer clote!
The grey-bough'd withy's a-leänèn lowly
Above the water thy leaves do hide;
The bèndèn bulrush, a-swaÿèn slowly,
Do skirt in zummer thy river's zide;
An' perch in shoals, O,
Do vill the holes, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!
Above the water thy leaves do hide;
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Do skirt in zummer thy river's zide;
An' perch in shoals, O,
Do vill the holes, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!
Oh! when thy brook drinkèn flow'rs a-blowèn,
The burnèn zummer's a-zettèn in;
The time o' greenness, the time o' mowèn,
When in the haÿ-vield, wi' zunburnt skin,
The vo'k do drink, O,
Upon the brink, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!
The burnèn zummer's a-zettèn in;
The time o' greenness, the time o' mowèn,
When in the haÿ-vield, wi' zunburnt skin,
The vo'k do drink, O,
Upon the brink, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!
Wi' eärms a-spreadèn, an' cheäks a-blowèn,
How proud wer I when I vu'st could zwim
Athirt the deep pleäce where thou bist growèn,
Wi' thy long more vrom the bottom dim;
While cows, knee-high, O,
In brook, wer nigh, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!
How proud wer I when I vu'st could zwim
Athirt the deep pleäce where thou bist growèn,
Wi' thy long more vrom the bottom dim;
While cows, knee-high, O,
In brook, wer nigh, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!
Ov all the brooks drough the meäds a-windèn,
Ov all the meäds by a river's brim,
There's nwone so feäir o' my own heart's vindèn,
As where the maïdens do zee thee zwim,
An' stan' to teäke, O,
Wi' long-stemm'd reäke, O,
Thy flow'r afloat, goolden zummer clote!
Ov all the meäds by a river's brim,
There's nwone so feäir o' my own heart's vindèn,
As where the maïdens do zee thee zwim,
An' stan' to teäke, O,
Wi' long-stemm'd reäke, O,
Thy flow'r afloat, goolden zummer clote!
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |