The Miller's Daughter

THE Lieven mill-wheel ever
Keeps turning round and round.
Each morn
I hear its ditty, and never

Was born,
Methinks, a sadder sound!
For she is gone from Lieven,
The light-haired milleress, Jane

Marie;
And the ring she gave one even
To rne,
Sprang yesternoon in twain!

From morrow unto morrow
The mill-wheel turns all day,
And I
Turn too — away, in sorrow,

And sigh,
As I pen some plaintive lay.
Farewell, ye gay and bright hopes!
For me must years of dole

Yet wheel.
The vault of a long dark Night opes,
I feel,
To prison my mourning soul!

I hear the mill-wheel going,
The water flowing down
So cool:
My tears are also flowing.

Oh, fool,
To trust those ringlets brown!