Which moans and groans as tho’t could feel?”
“Ha!” laughed the miller, “he pauses not and why—­
In the sunshine pausing and musing I? 
When the spiteful waves seem to repeat—­
        Repeat!  Repeat!  Repeat! 
The hateful word deceit—­
        Deceit!  Deceit!  Deceit”
“Nay,” mused the miller, “their musical drip—­
        Drip!  Drip!  Drip! 
Is like to naught but the trip—­
        Trip!  Trip!  Trip! 
In the dance of her fairy feet,
Or her rippling-laughter cool and sweet!”

* * * * *

          Once more,
The miller leans o’er the oaken door. 
Still play the shadows upon the floor,
Still toils the spider overhead;
Like one who toils for daily bread—­
    “Since the red lips unto me have lied
      The spell hath lost its power,
    For never a false heart brings my bride
      Whatever else her dower!”
And louder yet the waves repeat
Their burthen old, deceit, deceit!

* * * * *

In flocks of brown, the leaves haste down,
  And floods, in the wild March weather;
While the mill, the miller, and the miller’s love dream,
  Have all grown old together!

THE LAST TIME.

We shall see the daylight breaking,
Watch the rosy dawn awaking;
We shall see the twilight fading—­
Adown the path the elms are shading,
      For the last, last time.

We shall see the blossoms swelling,
Watch the spring-bird build his dwelling,
See the dead leaves downward sailing,
While the Autumn winds are wailing,
      For the last, last time.

We shall hear the song of pleasure,
Join the dance’s merry measure;
Shrink and dread the form of sorrow,
Which may meet us on the morrow,
      For the last, last time.

We shall feel hates’ venomed dart
Aimed to pierce the inmost heart;
We shall know love’s sweet caressing,
Breathed from lips our own are pressing,
      For the last, last time.

But in that land where we are going,
Where the skies are ever glowing;
In that fair and fadeless clime,
Never comes the last, last time.

ONLY A SIMPLE MAID!

And this is the end of it all! 
  It rounds the years completeness,
Though only a walk to the stile
  Through fields a-foam with sweetness. 
Only the sunset light,
  Purple and red on the river,
Only a calm “good night,”
  That means good bye forever!

I can only go back to my simple ways—­
  To my homely household cares;
And yet,—­and yet—­in after days
  I shall think of you in my prayers. 
We can bear so much in youth;
  Who cares for a swift sharp pain? 
The two-edged sword of truth
  Cuts deep, but leaves no stain,
And over the ways we have trod together,
  My foot shall fall as lightly,
As though my heart were a feather.