Page:Love Poems and Others.djvu/69

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I durstna kiss thee tha trembles so,  Tha’rt frit o’ summat.Tha arena very flig to go,’Appen the mist from the thawin’ snowDaunts thee—it isna for love, I know,That tha’rt loath to go.  —Dear o’ me, say summat.
Maun tha cling to the wa’ as tha goes,  So bad as that?Tha’lt niver get into thy weddin’ clothesAt that rate—eh, theer goes thy hat;Ne’er mind, good-bye lad, now I loseMy joy, God knows,  —An’ worse nor that.
The road goes under the apple tree;  Look, for I’m showin’ thee summat.An’ if it worn’t for the mist, tha’d seeThe great black wood on all sides o’ theeWi’ the little pads going cunninglyTo ravel thee.  So listen, I’m tellin’ thee summat.
When tha comes to the beechen avenue,  I’m warnin’ thee o’ summat.Mind tha shall keep inwards, a fewSteps to the right, for the gravel pitsAre steep an’ deep wi’ watter, an’ youAre scarce o’ your wits.  Remember, I’ve warned thee o’ summat.

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