The Old Grist Mill

By Willow Brook, beneath the hill, Stands quaint and gray the old grist mili. Spring mosses on its steep roof grow, Where broad their shade the willows throw. The pond near by is clear and deep, And round its brink the alders sweep, The lily pads spread gray and green, The lilies white and gold between, While grinds the raill with rumbling sound, The water-wheel turns round and round Among the reeds the muskrat dives, And swift "the swallow homeward flies," The robin sings in oedars near Where Willow Brook runs swift and clear. The ehildren by the school-house play, Where slumberous shadows Boftly sway, And warm and low the summer breeze Is whispering thro' the willow leaves. While grinds the mjll, with rumbling sound, The water-wheel turna round and round. The crows now wlng their sonthward way, The squirreU in the nut-trees play; With merry shouts the school-boys run ; The mountains blush 'neath autumn's sun Their grata they bring adown the hill, The farmers, to the old grist mili; And faint, from far o'er hill and dale, Falla on the ear the thrasher's flaiL While grinds the mili with rumbling sound, The water-wheel turns round and round. Long years have come and past away ; The mili with age is gaunt and gray. The roof gaps wide to rain and sun; With cobwebs thick the walls are hung. The pond is overgrown with weeds ; The marsh wren builds among the reeds. The night winds thro' the willows nioan- The school-house gone, the children grown- The farmers sleep where wild fiowera grow, Who brought their grain so long ago, When ground the mili with rumbling sound, And the water-wheel turned round and round.