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I am dying, Egypt, dying;
Hark! the insulting foeman's cry.
Let me front them ere I die.
Shall my heart exulting swell;
Cleopatra, Rome, farewell!
THE WATER MILL
BY DANIEL CRAIG MC CALLUM
In a copy of this poem presented to the editor, the author inserted the word again” in the last line of each verse, and in the third verse substituted “thy kindness sow broadcast" for true love alone will last."
Oh! listen to the Water-Mill, through all the livelong
day, As the clicking of the wheel wears hour by hour
away; How languidly the Autumn wind doth stir the withered
leaves, As on the field the reapers sing, while binding up the
sheaves. A solemn proverb strikes my mind, and as a spell is
cast, The mill will never grind again with water that is
Soft summer winds revive no more, leaves strewn o'er earth and main,
The sickle nevermore will reap the yellow-garnered
grain; The rippling stream flows ever on, aye tranquil, deep
and still, But never glideth back again, to busy Water-Mill. The solemn proverb speaks to all, with meaning deep
and vast. The mill will never grind again with water that is
Oh! clasp the proverb to thy soul, dear loving heart
and true, For golden years are fleeting by, and youth is passing
too. Ah! learn to make the most of life, nor lose one happy
day, For time will ne'er return sweet joys, neglected, thrown
away, Nor leave one tender word unsaid, thy kindness sow
broadcast, “The mill will never grind again with water that is
Oh! the wasted hours of life, that have swiftly drifted
by; Alas! the good we might have done, all gone without
a sigh; Love that we might once have saved, by a single kindly
word, Thoughts conceived but ne'er expressed, perishing unpenned, unheard.
Oh! take the lesson to thy soul, forever clasp it fast, “The mill will never grind again with water that is
Work on while yet the sun doth shine, thou man of
strength and will, The streamlet ne'er doth useless glide by clicking
water-mill; Nor wait until to-morrow's light, beams brightly on
thy way, For all that thou can’st call thine own, lies in the
phrase to-day. Possessions, power, and blooming health must all be
lost at last, “The mill will never grind again with water that is
Oh! love thy God and fellow men, thyself consider last, For come it will when thou must scan dark errors of
the past. Soon will this fight of life be o'er, and earth recede
from view, And Heaven in all its glory shine, where all is pure and
true. Ah! then thou'lt see more clearly still, the proverb
deep and vast, “ The mill will never grind again with water that is
Tempered the heap with thrill of human tears;
The color of the ground was in him, the red earth;
of streams that make their way
Sprung from the West, The strength of virgin forests braced his mind, The hush of spacious prairies stilled his soul. Up from log cabin to the Capitol, One fire was on his spirit, one resolve To send the keen axe to the root of wrong, Clearing a free way for the feet of God. And evermore he burned to do his deed
With the fine stroke and gesture of a king:
So came the Captain with the thinking heart;
the hills, And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.
O, LAY THY HAND IN MINE, DEAR
BY GERALD MASSEY
O, lay thy hand in mine, dear!
We're growing old;
That hearts grow cold.
Made life divine;
enricheth true love,