Under the furze is hunger and cold,
Under the broom is silver and gold.
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 bough the buds o' spring—
Then I'm as happy as a king,
A'vield wi' health an' sunshine.
Vor then the cowslips hangin' flow'r
A-wetted in the zunny show'r,
Do grow wi' vi'lets, sweet o' smell,
Beside the wood-screen'd graegle's bell;
Where drushes aggs, wi' sky-blue shell,
Do lie in mossy nest among
Thorns, while they do zing their zong
At evenin' in the zunsheen.
W. Barnes.
A camomile bed,—
The more it is trodden,
The more it will spread.
Thunder in spring
Cold will bring.