XV.—THE MILL.
A merry little river
Went singing day by day,
Until it reached a mill-dam
That stretched across its way.
And there it spread its waters,
A quiet pond, to wait
Until the busy miller
Should lift the water-gate.
Then, hurrying through the gateway,
The dashing waters found
A mighty millwheel waiting,
And turned it swiftly round.
But faster turned the millstones
Up in the dusty mill,
And quickly did the miller
With corn the hopper fill.
And faster yet and faster
The heavy stones went round,
Until the golden kernels
To golden meal were ground.
“Now fill the empty hopper
With wheat,” the miller said;
“We’ll grind this into flour
To make the children’s bread.”
And still, as flowed the water,
The mighty wheel went round;
And still, as turned the millstones,
The corn and grain were ground.
And busy was the miller
The livelong day, until
The water-gate he fastened,
And silent grew the mill.
THE MILL.
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Emilie Poulsson. Cornelia C. Roeske.