Each gave what little helps they could,
From aat ther scanty stoor;
I' hopes 'at some at roll'd i' wealth
Wod give a trifle moor.
But th' maisters ordered 'em away,
Abaat ther business, sharp!
For shoo'd deed withaat a nooatice,
An' shoo hadn't fell'd her warp.
To a Daisy,
Found blooming March 7th.
A'a awm feeared tha's come too sooin,
Little daisy!
Pray, whativer wor ta doin?
Are ta crazy?
Winter winds are blowin' yet,
Tha'll be starved, mi little pet.
Did a gleam'o' sunshine warm thee,
An deceive thee?
Niver let appearance charm thee,
For believe me,
Smiles tha'll find are oft but snares,
Laid to catch thee unawares.
Still aw think it luks a shame,
To tawk sich stuff;
Aw've lost faith, an tha'll do th' same,
Hi, sooin enuff:
If tha'rt happy as tha art
Trustin' must be th' wisest part.
Come, aw'll pile some bits o' stooan,
Raand thi dwellin';
They may screen thee when aw've gooan
Ther's no tellin';
An' when gentle spring draws near
Aw'll release thee, niver fear.
An' if then thi pratty face,
Greets me smilin';
Aw may come an' sit bith' place,
Time beguilin';
Glad to think aw'd paar to be,
Ov some use, if but to thee.
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