The owner of the land; and whose the mill,
From whence the water-course which turn’d its wheel.
Receiving in reply the man’s best wit,
Until he saw his pretty angel flit;
Then, unperceiv’d, he kiss’d his hand, and thrust
It forth towards the cot, pray’ng heaven’s gust
Might waft it o’er; and with it went a sigh,—
His last adieu! and turn’d away his eye.
[175] A pretty yellow flower, which generally abounds in Meadlands.