First Mill Song

Wheels are clacking, waters glisten,

And the mill-bell gaily sounds;

Gladly do I stand and listen

By the balmy forest bounds.

All these merry sounds awaken

Thoughts of joy which o'er me pass,

Better can my rest be taken

Lolling here upon the grass.

Fain would I by yonder water

Be a miller young and gay,

While the wheel with patter, clatter,

Turned amid the roaring spray.

I would work, all hands assisting,

Guiding hither spring on spring,

Till the torrent, nought resisting,

Doubly fast my wheel should swing.

Then upon its paddles bending

All my sorrows I would lay;

With the silver mist ascending

Swiftly they should fly away.

Down the millstream like a bubble

To the ocean they should flee;

Never more should care nor trouble

Reach again this heart of me.

Such my fancies while I listen

By the balmy forest bounds,

Wheels are clacking, waters glisten,

And the mill-bell gaily sounds.