| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
| |
| 379. Songs |
| | | The Old Mill |
| | | By Thomas Dunn English |
| |
| |
| HERE from the brow of the hill I look, | |
| Through a lattice of boughs and leaves, | |
| On the old gray mill with its gambrel roof, | |
| And the moss on its rotting eaves. | |
| I hear the clatter that jars its walls, | 5 |
| And the rushing water’s sound, | |
| And I see the black floats rise and fall | |
| As the wheel goes slowly round. | |
| |
| I rode there often when I was young, | |
| With my grist on the horse before, | 10 |
| And talked with Nelly, the miller’s girl, | |
| As I waited my turn at the door; | |
| And while she tossed her ringlets brown, | |
| And flirted and chatted so free, | |
| The wheel might stop or the wheel might go, | 15 |
| It was all the same to me. | |
| |
| ’T is twenty years since last I stood | |
| On the spot where I stand to-day, | |
| And Nelly is wed, and the miller is dead, | |
| And the mill and I are gray. | 20 |
| But both, till we fall into ruin and wreck, | |
| To our fortune of toil are bound; | |
| And the man goes, and the stream flows, | |
| And the wheel moves slowly round. | |
| |
|
|
|
