* * * * *
Beyond the curve this side the hill,
There runs a creek—by the old saw-mill—
A covered bridge[315] and a water tank,
With the watchman’s shanty on this bank:
A quiet nook, for the mill is done,—
With crippled Jemmie it ceased to run.
Just round[316] the curve in the shady wood
That fringes the creek, his low hut stood,
Where Jemmie, the watch, spent his useful life,