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    The Old Mill
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    ~ Keepsake Mill ~
    by Robert Louis Stevenson

    Over the borders, a sin without pardon,
    Breaking the branches and crawling below,
    Out through the breach in the wall of the garden,
    Down by the banks of the river, we go.

    Here is the mill with the humming of thunder,
    Here is the weir with the wonder of foam,
    Here is the sluice with the race running under
    Marvellous places, though handy to home!

    Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller,
    Stiller the note of the birds on the hill;
    Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller,
    Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.

    Years may go by, and the wheel in the river
    Wheel as it wheels for us, children, today,
    Wheel and keep roaring and foaming forever,
    Long after all of the boys are away.

    Home from the Indies and home from the ocean,
    Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home;
    Still we shall find the old mill wheel in motion,
    Turning and churning that river to foam.

    You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled,
    I with your marble of Saturday last,
    Honoured and old and all gaily apparelled,
    Here we shall meet and remember the past.

    O'Carolan's Set by Alison Vardy

    ~ The finest in milled grains and feeds for both man and beast ~

    cereals_grains.jpg


    Created by:
    Finn08.PNG
     * Fenian Niafer, Jan 2, 2007 - 20:22

    8 Members have made 27 Posts here to date.




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