Where the bridge out at Woodley did stride,
Wi' his wide arches' cool sheaeded bow,
Up above the clear brook that did slide
By the popples, befoam'd white as snow:
As the gilcups did quiver among
The white deaeisies, a-spread in a sheet.
There a quick-trippen maid come along,—
Aye, a girl wi' her light-steppen veet.
An' she cried "I do pray, is the road
Out to Lincham on here, by the meaed?"
An' "oh! ees," I meaede answer, an' show'd
Her the way it would turn an' would leaed:
"Goo along by the beech in the nook,
Where the childern do play in the cool,
To the steppen stwones over the brook,—
Aye, the grey blocks o' rock at the pool."
"Then you don't seem a-born an' a-bred,"
I spoke up, "at a place here about;"
An' she answer'd wi' cheaeks up so red
As a pi'ny but leaete a-come out,
"No, I liv'd wi' my uncle that died
Back in Eaepril, an' now I'm a-come
Here to Ham, to my mother, to bide,—
Aye, to her house to vind a new hwome."
I'm asheaemed that I wanted to know
Any mwore of her childhood or life,
But then, why should so feaeir a child grow
Where noo father did bide wi' his wife;
Then wi' blushes of zunrisen morn,
She replied "that it midden be known,
"Oh! they zent me away to be born,—
Aye, they hid me when zome would be shown."
Oh! it meaede me a'most teary-ey'd,
An' I vound I a'most could ha' groan'd—
What! so winnen, an' still cast a-zide—
What! so lovely, an' not to be own'd;
Oh! a God-gift a-treated wi' scorn,
Oh! a child that a squier should own;
An' to zend her away to be born!—
Aye, to hide her where others be shown!