244 POEMS IN THE DORSET DIALECT. 



23. THE STREAM-SIDE. 



I zot a little while bezide 



A grey-stwon'd rock the rugged brow 

 Ov our clear stream, that there do glide 



By leanen trees an' hangen bough 

 In Fall, when open air wer cool, 

 An' zwallows had a-left the pool, 

 An' gleades in long-cast sheades did lie 

 Below the yet clear sky. 



There leaves, that in the spring wer gay, 

 Wer now by heasty winds a-took, 



A-wither'd, off their sheaken spray, 

 An' bore away along the brook, 



Without a day o' rest a-vound 



Upon their own trees' quiet ground ; 



But cast away, by blast an' weave, 



To lie in zome chance greave. 



When zickness smote poor Meary low, 



They took her vrom her life's wold ground 



To poorhouse, where sad days could show 

 Her bread, but not her friends all round. 



She veil, though not to lie at rest, 



At thease wold pleace she liked the best, 



A-zent away, as went on weaves 



The leaves to distant greaves. 



24. THE PRIZE WINNERS. 



SPEAKERS The Teller (T.} of the Cleveburn winners in games at 

 another village. The Teller's Chorus (T.C.} of two or three 

 young men come home with him. The Full Chorus (F.C.} of 

 village hearers. 



T. Wold Cleeveburn vor ever ! Goo, ringers, an' turn 

 The brown tower-door on his greystwonen durn, 

 An' teake, every man, in his up-hangen hands, 

 The rwopes' twisted strands. 



