POEMS IN THE DORSET DIALECT. 249 



As in heaven high 



I my child did seek, 

 There, in trai'n, come by 



Children feair an' meek ; 

 Each in lilyvvhite, 

 Wi' a lamp alight 

 Each wer clear to zight, 



But noo words did speak. 



Then a-looken sad 



Come my child in turn ; 

 But the lamp he had 



Oh ! he didden burn ; 

 He, to clear my doubt, 

 Zaid, a-turn'd about, 

 Your tears put en out ; 



Mother, never rnurn. 



27. THE GEATE A-VALLEN TO. 



In the sunsheen of our summers 



Wi' the hay time now a -come, 

 How busy wer we out a-vield 



Wi' vew a-left at hwome, 

 When waggons rumbled out ov yard 



Red wheeled, wi' body blue, 

 And back behind 'em loudly slamm'd 



The geate a-vallen to. 



Drough day sheen for how many years * 



The geate ha' now a-swung, 

 Behind the veet o' vull-grown men 



And vootsteps of the young 

 Drough years o' days it swung to us 



Behind each little shoe, 

 As we tripped lightly on avore 



The geate a-vallen to. 



