I am dying, Egypt, dying; Hark! the insulting foeman's cry. 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 past." 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 past." 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 past." 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 past." 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 past." 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 past." Tempered the heap with thrill of human tears; The color of the ground was in him, the red earth; The smack and tang of elemental things: The rectitude and patience of the cliff; The good-will of the rain that loves all leaves; Sprung from the West, The strength of virgin forests braced his mind, One fire was on his spirit, one resolve – With the fine stroke and gesture of a king: So came the Captain with the thinking heart; O, LAY THY HAND IN MINE, DEAR BY GERALD MASSEY O, lay thy hand in mine, dear! We're growing old; But Time hath brought no sign, dear, That hearts grow cold. 'T is long, long since our new love Made life divine; But age enricheth true love, Like noble wine. |