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An' Squoire 'ull be sa mad an' all — a'

NORTHERN FARMER
dear, a' dear!
And I 'a managed for Squoire coom
Michaelmas thutty year.

(1870) A mowt 'a taäen owd Joänes, as 'ant not a

Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they aäpoth o' sense;

canters awaäy? Or a mowt a' taäen young Robins Proputty, proputty, proputty — that's what niver mended a fence:

I 'ears 'em saäy. But Godamoighty a moost taäke meä, an' | Proputty, proputty, proputty Sam, thou's taäke ma now,

an ass for thy païns: Wi' aäf the cows to cauve, an' Thurnaby Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs, nor in hoälms to plow!

all thy braïns.

a

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mun be

Looök 'ow quoloty smoiles when they seeäs

ma a passin' boy, Says to thessèn, naw doubt, "What a man

a beä, sewer-loy!” Fur they knaws what I beän to Squoire

sin' fust a coom'd to the 'All: I done moy duty by Squoire an' I done moy

duty boy hall.

Woä - theer's a craw to pluck wi' tha,

Sam: yon 's parson's 'ouse -
Dosn't thou knaw that a man

eäther a man or a mouse?
Time to think on it then; for thou'll be

twenty to weeäk. Proputty, proputty — woä, then, woä: let

ma 'ear mysèn speäk.

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Squoire 's i' Lunnon; an' summun, I Me an' thy muther, Sammy, 'as beän reckons, 'ull 'a to wroite;

a-talkin' o' thee: For whoä 's to howd the lond ater meä, - Thou's beän talkin' to muther, an' she thot muddles ma quoit:

beän a-tellin' it me. Sartin-sewer I beä thot a weänt niver give Thou'll not marry

thou's it to Joänes;

sweet upo' parson's lass: Naw, nor a moänt to Robins a niver Noä, thou'll marry for luvy — an' rembles the stoäns.

boäth on us thinks tha an ass.

for munny

we

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An' I went wheer munny war; an’thy Proputty, proputty's, ivrything 'ere; an', muther coom to 'and,

Sammy, I'm blest Wi' lots o' munny laaïd by, an' a nicetish If it isn't the saäme oop yonder, fur bit o' land.

them as 'as it's the best. Maäybe she warn't a beauty — I niver giv it a thowt

Tis'n them as 'as munny as breäks into But warn't she as good to cuddle an' kiss 'ouses an' steäls,

45 as a lass as 'ant nowt?

Them as 'as coäts to their backs, an' taäkes

their regular meäls. Parson's lass 'ant nowt, an' she weänt 'a Noä, but it's them as niver knaws wheer a nowt when 'e 's dead,

meäls to be 'ad: Mun be a guvness, lad, or summut, and Taäke my word for it, Sammy, the poor in addle her bread.

a loomp is bad. Why? Fur 'e 's nobbut a curate, an' weänt niver get hissèn clear;

Them or thir feythers, tha sees, mun 'a An' 'e maade the bed as 'e ligs on, afoor 'e beän a laäzy lot; coomed to the shere.

Fur work mun 'a gone to the gittin', whin

iver munny was got. An' thin 'e coomed to the parish wi' lots o’ Feyther 'ad ammost nowt; leastways, 'is Varsity debt,

munny was 'id. Stook to his taaïl, they did; an''e 'ant got But 'e tued an' moiled. issèn dead, an' 'e shut on 'em yet.

died a good un, 'e did. An' 'e ligs on 'is back i’ the grip, wi' noän to lend 'im a shuvv,

Looök thou theer wheer Wrigglesby beck Woorse nor a far-weltered yowe: fur,

cooms out by the 'ill! Sammy, 'e married fur luvv.

Feyther run oop to the farm, an' I runs

oop to the mill; Luvv? What's luvy? Thou can luvv thy An' i'll run oop to the brig, an' that thou'll lass an' 'er munny too,

55 Maäkin' 'em goä togither, as they've good And if thou marries a good un, I'll leave right to do.

the land to thee. Couldn I luvv thy muther by cause o' 'er munny laäid by ?

Thim's my noätions, Sammy, wheerby I Naäy — fur I luvved 'er a vast sight moor

means to stick; fur it: reason why.

But if thou marries a bad un, I'll leave the

land to Dick. Ay, an' thy muther says thou wants to

Coom

oop, proputty, proputty — that's marry the lass,

what I 'ears 'im saäy Cooms of a gentleman burn: an' we boäth on us thinks tha an ass —

Proputty, proputty, proputty — canter an' Woä then, proputty, wiltha ?

canter awaäy. near as mays nowt Woä then, wiltha ? dangtha! — the bees is

WAGES as fell as owt.

(1868) Breäk me a bit 'o the esh for his 'eäd, lad, Glory of warrior, glory of orator, glory of out o' the fence!

song, Gentleman burn! What's gentleman burn? Paid with a voice flying by to be lost on Is it shillins an’ pence?

an endless sea!

live to see;

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an ass as

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The wages of sin is death: if the wages of

Virtue be dust, Would she have heart to endure for the

life of the worm and the Ay? She desires no isles of the blest, no quiet

seats of the just, To rest in a golden grove, or to bask in

a summer sky: Give her the wages of going on, and not to

die.

And the ear of man cannot hear, and the

eye of man cannot see; But if we could see and hear, this Vision

were it not He?

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THE HIGHER PANTHEISM

(1869)

The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the

hills and the plains, Are not these, O Soul, the Vision of Him

who reigns ?

ENGLAND AND AMERICA IN 1782

(1874)
O Thou, that sendest out the man

To rule by land and sea,
Strong mother of a Lion-line,
Be proud of those strong sons of thine

Who wrenched their rights from thee! 5 What wonder if in noble heat

Those men thine arms withstood, Retaught the lesson thou hadst taught, And in thy spirit with thee fought,

Who sprang from English blood!
But Thou rejoice with liberal joy:

Lift up thy rocky face,
And shatter, when the storms are black,
In many a streaming torrent back,

The seas that shock thy base!
Whatever harmonies of law

The growing world assume, Thy work is thine — the single note From that deep chord which Hampden

smote Will vibrate to the doom.

Is not the Vision He, though He be not

that which He seems? Dreams are true while they last, and do

we not live in dreams?

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Dark is the world to thee: thyself are the

reason why, For is He not all but that which has power

to feel “I am I”?

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Glory about thee, without thee; and thou

fulfillest thy doom Making Him broken gleams and a stified

splendor and gloom.

THE VOICE AND THE PEAK

(1874)

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Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and

Spirit with Spirit can meet Closer is He than breathing, and nearer

than hands and feet.

The voice and the Peak,

Far over summit and lawn: The lone glow, and long roar Green-rushing from the rosy thrones of

dawn!

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And the half my men are sick. I must fly, Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the chilbut follow quick.

dren of the devil, We are six ships of the line: can we fight For I never turned my back upon Don or with fifty-three?"

devil yet.”

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