Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . nothing. * The flies are as fierce as anything. 34p Northeiit Farmer. Tisn them as as niunny as breaks into ouses an steals,Them as as coats to their backs an taakes their regular , but its them as niver knaws wheer a meals to be my word for it, Sammy, the poor in a loomp is bad. Them or thir feythers, tha sees, mun a bean a laiizy lot,Fur work mun a gone to the gittin whiniver munny was ad ammost nowt; leastways is munny was e tued an moild issen dead, an e died a good un, e did. Loook thou theer wheer Wrigglesby beck
Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . nothing. * The flies are as fierce as anything. 34p Northeiit Farmer. Tisn them as as niunny as breaks into ouses an steals,Them as as coats to their backs an taakes their regular , but its them as niver knaws wheer a meals to be my word for it, Sammy, the poor in a loomp is bad. Them or thir feythers, tha sees, mun a bean a laiizy lot,Fur work mun a gone to the gittin whiniver munny was ad ammost nowt; leastways is munny was e tued an moild issen dead, an e died a good un, e did. Loook thou theer wheer Wrigglesby beck cooms out by the ill!Feyther run oop to the farm, an I runs oop to the mill;An Ill run oop to the brig, an that thoull live to see;And if thou marries a good un Ill leave the land to thee. Northern Farmer. 347 Thims my noations, Sammy, wheerby I means to stick;But if thou marries a bad un, Ill leave the land to Dick.—Coom oop, proputty, proputty — thats what I ears im saay —Proputty, proputty, proputty—canter an canter THE AT EDINBURGH. O LOVE, what hours were thine and mine,In lands of palm and southern pine ; In lands of palm, of orange-blossom,Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine. What Roman strength Turbia showdIn ruin, by the mountain road; How like a gem, beneath, the cityOf little Monaco, basking, glowd. (348) The Daisy. 349 How richly down the rocky dellThe torrent vineyard streaming fell To meet the sun and sunny waters,That only heaved with a summer swell. What slender campanili grew By bays, the peacocks neck in hue ; Where, here and there, on sandy beachesA milky-belld amaryllis blew. How young Columbus seemd to rove,Yet present in his natal grove. Now watching high on mountain coniice,And steering, now, from a purple cove. Now pacing nuite by oceans rim ;Till, in a narrow sti-eet and dim, I stayd the wheels at Cogoletto,And drank, and loyally drank to him. Nor knew we well what pleased us most,Not the dipt palm of which the} boast; But
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