E'en when the summer breeze was light,
The whirling wings performed their flight;
And hence a village saying rose—
"As sure as Jones's mill, it goes."
Not so with neighbor Smith's—close by;
Full half the time it would not ply:
Save only when the wind was west,
Still as a post it stood at rest.
By every tempest it was battered,
By every thundergust 'twas shattered;