Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset DialectC. Kegan Paul & Company, 1879 - 467 стор. |
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a-comèn a-done a-gone a-left a-lost ageän aïr alwone athirt avore beät bezide birds boughs brook burnèn bwoy ceäre cheäks childern coulden cows cried cwold d'ye door doust drough drow eärm elem ev'ry evenèn eyes feäce feäir flow'rs geäte gi'e girt grass ground gwaïn happy head heäir heart hedge hill ho'se hwome ithin Jeäne John leäne leäve lewth light lwoad maïd maïdens me'th meäde meäke meäre merry mornèn mossy mother mwore neäme night noo mwore peäce peäir peärt pleäce raïn road roun rwose sheädes sheäke sheäre sheenèn smile smilèn souls stwone teäke theäse There's thik tree tweil twer vaïce vall veet vields vier vind vlee vloor vo'k vound vrom vu'st vull wind woak wold woonce woone woone's wull yollow zaid zide zight zing zome zong zummer Zunday zunny
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 281 - Below the beeches' bough, my love, Where you did never come, An' I don't look to meet ye now, As I do look at hwome. Since you noo mwore be at my zide, In walks in zummer het, I'll goo alwone where mist do ride, Droo trees a-drippen wet ; Below the rain-wet bough, my love, Where you did never come, An' I don't grieve to miss ye now, As I do grieve at hwome.
Сторінка 171 - BLACKMWORE MAIDENS THE primrwose in the sheade do blow, The cowslip in the zun. The thyme upon the down do grow. The clote where streams do run; An...
Сторінка 282 - I don't grieve to miss ye now, As I do grieve at hwome. Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard Your vaice do never sound, I'll eat the bit I can avword A-vield upon the ground ; Below the darksome bough, my love, Where you did never dine, An' I don't grieve to miss ye now, As I at hwome do pine. Since I do miss your va'ice an" feace In prayer at eventide, I'll pray wi' woone sad va'ice vor greace To goo where you do bide; Above the tree an' bough, my love, Where you be gone avore, An' be a-wai'ten vor...
Сторінка 139 - How mother, when we us'd to stun Her head wi' all our naisy fun, Did wish us all a-gone vrom hwome : An
Сторінка 100 - An' slammen door an' rottlen lock That in thik empty house da sound Da never seem to miake look round '/V/ik downcast weepen liady. A liady, as the tiale da goo, That oonce liv'd there, an' lov'd too true, Wer by a young man cast azide A mother sad, but not a bride; An...
Сторінка 210 - They clear'd the groun' vor grass to teake The pleace that bore the bremble breake, An' drain'd the fen, where water spread, A-lyen dead, a beane to men; An' built the mill, where still the wheel Do grind our meal, below the hill; An' turn'd the bridge, wi' arch a-spread, Below a road, vor us to tread.
Сторінка 53 - ... wi' the wind, that blow'd It right into his eyes. An' he did blink, an' vow he'd catch Me zomehow yet, an' be my match. But I wer nearly down to hatch Avore he got vur on ; An...
Сторінка 50 - The time o' greenness, the time o' mowen, When in the hay-vield, wi' zunburnt skin, The vo'k do drink, O, Upon the brink, O, Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote ! Wi...
Сторінка 229 - But now when winter's rain do vail, An' wind do beat agean the hall, The while upon the wat'ry wall In spots o' grey the moss do grow, The ruf noo mwore shall overspread The pillor ov our weary head, Nor shall the rwose's mossy ball Ah!
Сторінка 336 - Or bring vrom her veet the light doust, She do tread in the Spring. O zun, meake the gil'cups all glitter, In goold all around her ; An' meake o' the deaisys' white flowers A bed in the Spring.