IT’S nobbut a year
Sin’ Ruth Moore wur ridin’
To tops by t’intake
Wheer fox-cubs wur hidin’;
It’s nobbut a year
Sin she waved as she cried
“Night’s coming,” an trotted
Doon Laver brck side.
T’ sun wur a-westin’
An’ shone thro’ her hair;
An’ Aa! But her eyes
Wur like pansies so rare;
She patted her horse
“He’s tired,” an’ I told her
to be makin’ for off,
or her people would scold her.
She merrily laughed,
An noo she is lyin’
So still an’ so white.
I cannot help cryin’.
But try to recall
This consoling thowt:
We none on us ken
What t’ good Lord’s about;
‘At happen theer’s intake
yonder; who knows!
Where star-hedges blossom
Same as dog-rose,
An’ Ruth Moore, wi’ others
As young an’ as sweet,
Rides into sunsettin’
Across moors of neet.
(Dorothy Una Ratcliffe)
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Based on Topics: Hair Poems, People Poems, Sin PoemsBased on Keywords: thowt, hidin, consoling, theer, cryin, ridin, wur, lyin, intake, trotted, patted