THE OL' MILL POND. 



GEORGE W. SLAWSON. 



On these balmy summer mornin's 



'Fore the sun is in the sky 

 When the shaclders turnin' purple 



Tell that day is dravvin' nigh; 

 Wi h a can of worms a squirmin' 



Jist beside me on the ground ; 

 You are mostly sure to find me 



By the ol' mill pond. 



Fer the chadowy reflection 



Of the clouds a-sailin' by, 

 A-tintin' of the water. 



With the colors of the sky; 

 An' the cool s:reen grass a-wavin', 



In the medder jist beyond, 

 Makes it mighty pleasant fishin', 



In the ol' mill pond. 



So with the robins chirpin' 



In the harvest apple tree ; 

 An' the orryole recitin', 



Of his sweetest song to me; 

 With the golden sun a-risin', 



It's jist fun to loaf around, 

 An' fish for perch an' mullets 



In the ol' mill pond. 



Fer the stretch of dewy medders 



Full of misty lines all curves, 

 Makes a mighty soothm' poultice 



Fer a weary feller's nerves ; 

 An' I 'low if this aint comfort, 



Then it really can't be found, 

 When you 're anglin' fer mullets 



In the ol' mill pond. 



Why ! the very frogs a-croakin', 



An' the peepers' pipin' low, 

 With the mooin' or the cattle 



In the pasture lot below ; 

 An' ihe rumblin' of the mill stones, 



As the water wheel goes round, 

 Fill a feller with contentment, 



By the ol' mill pond. 



So layin' on the grassy bank 



An' takin' of my ease, 

 With the sunshine peepin' shyly, 



Thro' the branches of the trees ; 

 A-watchm' of my bobbers, 



As they slowly drift around, 

 I could jist fish on forever, 



In the ol' mill pond. 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY J. R. PETERSON. 



I'M BUSY. 

 Winner of 29th Prize in Recreation's 6th Annual Photo Competition. 



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