Close by, the paper-mill, with murmurous wheel,
Still glistens through the branches, while its score
Of laughing maidens throng the copse at noon.
But we, with careless arms upon the rail,
Peered through and through the water; almost saw
Its silvery Naiads, from their wavering depths,
Gleam with strange faces upward; almost heard
Sweet voices carol: “Ah, you all come back!
We charm your childhood; then you roam away,
To float on alien waters, like the winds;