 | Birds and flowers and other country things |  |
148
[THE MILL STREAM]
Long trails of cistus-flowers
Creep on the rocky hill;
And beds of strong spear-mint
Grow round about the mill;
And from a mountain tarn above,
As peaceful as a dream,
Like to child unruly,
Though schooled and counselled truly,
Foams down the wild mill-stream!
The wild mill-stream it dasheth,
In merriment away,
And keeps the miller and his son
So busy all the day!
Creep on the rocky hill;
And beds of strong spear-mint
Grow round about the mill;
And from a mountain tarn above,
As peaceful as a dream,
Like to child unruly,
Though schooled and counselled truly,
Foams down the wild mill-stream!
149
In merriment away,
And keeps the miller and his son
So busy all the day!
Into the mad mill-stream
The mountain-roses fall;
And fern and adder's tongue
Grow on the old mill-wall.
The tarn is on the upland moor,
Where not a leaf doth grow;
And through the mountain-gashes,
The merry mill-stream dashes
Down to the sea below:
But, in the quiet hollows,
The red trout groweth prime,
For the miller and the miller's son
To angle when they've time.
The mountain-roses fall;
And fern and adder's tongue
Grow on the old mill-wall.
The tarn is on the upland moor,
Where not a leaf doth grow;
And through the mountain-gashes,
The merry mill-stream dashes
Down to the sea below:
But, in the quiet hollows,
The red trout groweth prime,
For the miller and the miller's son
To angle when they've time.
Then fair befall the stream
That turns the mountain-mill;
And fair befall the narrow road
That windeth up the hill!
And good luck to the countryman,
And to his old grey mare,
That upward toileth steadily,
With meal-sacks laden heavily,
In storm as well as fair!
And good luck to the miller,
And to the miller's son;
And ever may the mill-wheel turn
While mountain-waters run!
That turns the mountain-mill;
And fair befall the narrow road
That windeth up the hill!
150
And to his old grey mare,
That upward toileth steadily,
With meal-sacks laden heavily,
In storm as well as fair!
And good luck to the miller,
And to the miller's son;
And ever may the mill-wheel turn
While mountain-waters run!
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