C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

John Hartley (1839–1915)

AH! I’m feared thou’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:

Yes, believe me,

Smiles tha’lt find are oft but snares

Laid to catch thee unawares.

An’ yet, I think it looks a shame

To talk such stuff;

I’ve lost heart, an’ thou’lt do t’ same,

Ay, sooin enough!

An’, if thou’rt happy as tha art,

Trustin’ must be t’ wisest part.

Come! I’ll pile some bits o’ stoan

Round thi dwellin’;

They may cheer thee when I’ve goan,—

Theer’s no tellin’:

An’ when spring’s mild day draws near,

I’ll release thee, niver fear!

An’ if then thi pretty face

Greets me smilin’,

I may come an’ sit by th’ place,

Time beguilin’;

Glad to think I’d paar to be

Of some use, if but to thee!