Through many a rent the rain did filter;
And, fair or foul, 'twas out of kilter;
And thus the saying came at last—
"Smith's mill is made for folks that fast."
Now, who can read this riddle right?
Two mills are standing on a height—
One whirling brisk, whate'er the weather,
The other, idle, weeks together!
Come, gentle reader, lend thine ear,
And thou the simple truth shalt hear;