THIRD COLLECTION.

Woone Smile Mwore 339 The Echo 340 Vull a Man 341 Naighbour Playmeaetes 343 The Lark 345 The Two Churches 345 Woak Hill 347 The Hedger 348 In the Spring 349 The Flood in Spring 350 Comen Hwome 351 Grammer a-crippled 352 The Castle Ruins 354 Eclogue:--John jealous 355 Early Playmeaete 359 Picken o' Scroff 360 Good Night 361 Went Hwome 362 The Hollow Woak 363 Childern's Childern 364 The Rwose in the Dark 365 Come 366 Zummer Winds 367 The Neaeme Letters 368 The New House a-getten Wold 370 Zunday 370 The Pillar'd Geaete 371 Zummer Stream 373 Zummer Stream 373 Linda Deaene 374 Eclogue:--Come an' zee us 376 Lindenore 377 Me'th below the Tree 378 Treat well your Wife 379 The Child an' the Mowers 381 The Love Child 382 Hawthorn Down 383 Oben Vields 385 What John wer a-tellen 386 Sheaedes 387 Times o' Year 387 Eclogue:--Racketen Joe 388 Zummer an' Winter 391 To Me 392 Two an' Two 393 The Lew o' the Rick 394 The Wind in Woone's Feaece 395 Tokens 396 Tweil 396 Fancy 398 The Broken Heart 399 Evenen Light 400 Vields by Watervalls 401 The Wheel Routs 402 Nanny's new Abode 403 Leaves a-vallen 404 Lizzie 405 Blessens a-left 406 Fall Time 407 Fall 408 The Zilver-weed 409 The Widow's House 409 The Child's Greaeve 410 Went vrom Hwome 412 The Fancy Feaeir 412 Things do Come Round 414 Zummer Thoughts in Winter Time 415 I'm out o' Door 416 Grief an' Gladness 417 Sliden 418 Lwonesomeness 420 A Snowy Night 421 The Year-clock 421 Not goo Hwome To-night 424 The Humstrum 426 Shaftesbury Feaeir 427 The Beaeten Path 429 Ruth a-riden 430 Beauty Undecked 432 My love is good 432 Heedless o' my love 434 The Do'set Militia 435 A Do'set Sale 437 Don't ceaere 437 Changes 439 Kindness 440 Withstanders 441 Daniel Dwithen 442 Turnen things off 444 The Giants in Treaedes 445 The Little Worold 447 Bad News 448 The Turnstile 449 The Better vor zeen o' you 450 Pity 451 John Bloom in Lon'on 453 A Lot o' Maidens 456

POEMS OF RURAL LIFE.

FIRST COLLECTION.

SPRING.

THE SPRING.

When wintry weather's all a-done, An' brooks do sparkle in the zun, An' naisy-builden rooks do vlee Wi' sticks toward their elem tree; When birds do zing, an' we can zee Upon the boughs the buds o' spring,-- Then I'm as happy as a king, A-vield wi' health an' zunsheen.

Vor then the cowslip's hangen flow'r A-wetted in the zunny show'r, Do grow wi' vi'lets, sweet o' smell, Bezide the wood-screen'd graegle's bell; Where drushes' aggs, wi' sky-blue shell, Do lie in mossy nest among The thorns, while they do zing their zong At evenen in the zunsheen.

An' God do meaeke his win' to blow An' rain to vall vor high an' low, An' bid his mornen zun to rise Vor all alike, an' groun' an' skies Ha' colors vor the poor man's eyes: An' in our trials He is near, To hear our mwoan an' zee our tear, An' turn our clouds to zunsheen.

An' many times when I do vind Things all goo wrong, an' vo'k unkind, To zee the happy veeden herds, An' hear the zingen o' the birds, Do soothe my sorrow mwore than words; Vor I do zee that 'tis our sin Do meaeke woone's soul so dark 'ithin, When God would gi'e woone zunsheen.

THE WOODLANDS.

O spread ageaen your leaves an' flow'rs, Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands! Here underneath the dewy show'rs O' warm-air'd spring-time, zunny woodlands! As when, in drong or open ground, Wi' happy bwoyish heart I vound The twitt'ren birds a-builden round Your high-bough'd hedges, zunny woodlands.

You gie'd me life, you gie'd me jay, Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands You gie'd me health, as in my play I rambled through ye, zunny woodlands! You gie'd me freedom, vor to rove In airy meaed or sheaedy grove; You gie'd me smilen Fanney's love, The best ov all o't, zunny woodlands!

My vu'st shrill skylark whiver'd high, Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands! To zing below your deep-blue sky An' white spring-clouds, O zunny woodlands! An' boughs o' trees that woonce stood here, Wer glossy green the happy year That gie'd me woone I lov'd so dear, An' now ha' lost, O zunny woodlands!

O let me rove ageaen unspied, Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands! Along your green-bough'd hedges' zide, As then I rambled, zunny woodlands! An' where the missen trees woonce stood, Or tongues woonce rung among the wood, My memory shall meaeke em good, Though you've a-lost em, zunny woodlands!

LEADY-DAY, AN' RIDDEN HOUSE.

Aye, back at Leaedy-Day, you know, I come vrom Gullybrook to Stowe; At Leaedy-Day I took my pack O' rottletraps, an' turn'd my back Upon the weather-beaeten door, That had a-screen'd, so long avore, The mwost that theaese zide o' the greaeve, I'd live to have, or die to seaeve! My childern, an' my vier-pleaece, Where Molly wi' her cheerful feaece, When I'd a-trod my wat'ry road Vrom night-bedarken'd vields abrode, Wi' nimble hands, at evenen, blest Wi' vire an' vood my hard-won rest; The while the little woones did clim', So sleek-skinn'd, up from lim' to lim', Till, strugglen hard an' clingen tight, They reach'd at last my feaece's height. All tryen which could soonest hold My mind wi' little teaeles they twold. An' ridden house is such a caddle, I shan't be over keen vor mwore [=o]'t, Not yet a while, you mid be sure [=o]'t,-- I'd rather keep to woone wold staddle.

Well, zoo, avore the east begun To redden wi' the comen zun, We left the beds our mossy thatch Wer never mwore to overstratch, An' borrow'd uncle's wold hoss Dragon, To bring the slowly lumbren waggon, An' when he come, we vell a-packen The bedsteads, wi' their rwopes an' zacken; An' then put up the wold eaerm-chair, An' cwoffer vull ov e'then-ware, An' vier-dogs, an' copper kittle, Wi' crocks an' saucepans, big an' little; An' fryen-pan, vor aggs to slide In butter round his hissen zide, An' gridire's even bars, to bear The drippen steaeke above the gleaere O' brightly-glowen coals. An' then, All up o' top o' them ageaen The woaken bwoard, where we did eat Our croust o' bread or bit o' meat,-- An' when the bwoard wer up, we tied Upon the reaeves, along the zide, The woaeken stools, his glossy meaetes, Bwoth when he's beaere, or when the pleaetes Do clatter loud wi' knives, below Our merry feaeces in a row. An' put between his lags, turn'd up'ard, The zalt-box an' the corner cupb'ard. An' then we laid the wold clock-ceaese, All dumb, athirt upon his feaece, Vor we'd a-left, I needen tell ye, Noo works 'ithin his head or belly. An' then we put upon the pack The settle, flat upon his back; An' after that, a-tied in pairs In woone another, all the chairs, An' bits o' lumber wo'th a ride, An' at the very top a-tied, The childern's little stools did lie, Wi' lags a-turn'd toward the sky: Zoo there we lwoaded up our scroff, An' tied it vast, an' started off. An',--as the waggon cooden car all We had to teaeke,--the butter-barrel An' cheese-wring, wi' his twinen screw, An' all the pails an' veaets, an' blue Wold milk leads, and a vew things mwore, Wer all a-carr'd the day avore, And when the mwost ov our wold stuff Wer brought outside o' thik brown ruf, I rambled roun' wi' narrow looks, In fusty holes an' darksome nooks, To gather all I still mid vind, O' rags or sticks a-left behind. An' there the unlatch'd doors did creak, A-swung by winds, a-streamen weak Drough empty rooms, an' meaeken sad My heart, where me'th woonce meaede me glad. Vor when a man do leaeve the he'th An' ruf where vu'st he drew his breath, Or where he had his bwoyhood's fun, An' things wer woonce a-zaid an' done That took his mind, do touch his heart A little bit, I'll answer vor't. Zoo ridden house is such a caddle, That I would rather keep my staddle.