POEMS IN THE DORSET DIALECT. 137 



15. THE YIELD PATH. 



Here once did sound sweet words, a-spoke 



In wind that swum, 



Where ivy clomb, 

 About the ribby woak ; 

 An' still the words, though now a-gone, 

 Be dear to me, that linger on. 



An' here, as comely vo'k did pass, 



Their sheades did slide, 



Below their zide, 

 Along the flow'ry grass, 

 An' though the sheades be all a-gone, 

 Still dear's the ground they fell upon. 



But could they come where then they stroll'd, 



However young 



Mid sound their tongue, 

 Their sheades would show em wold ; 

 But dear, though they be all a-gone, 

 Be sheades o' trees that linger on. 



O ashen poles, a-sheenen tall ! 



You be too young 



To have a-sprung 

 In days when I wer small ; 

 But you, broad woak, wi' ribby rind, 

 Wer here so long as I can mind. 



16. THE SISTER AND BROTHERS. 



Joe : Come out to zee the glow-worms, do, 



So thick as blossoms on a bough. 

 Sister : O no. The grass is wet wi' dew, 

 An' I've a-put on slippers now. 

 Here's Tom ; 

 Where's he a-come'n vrom ? 



