THE MILL-STREAM. 149 
The wild mill-stream it dasheth, 
In merriment ;away,.. 
And keeps the, miller, and’ his son 
So busy all the: day.! 
Into the mad mill-stream. 
The mountain-roses fall ; 
And fern and adder’s , tongue 
Grow on the old mill-wall. 
The tarn ‘is on the upland moor, 
Where not a leaf doth grow; 
And through the mountain-gashes, 
The merry mill-stream dashes 
Down to the sea below: 
But, in the quiet hollows, 
The red trout groweth prime, 
For the miller and the miller’s son 
To angle when they ’ve time. 
Then fair befall the stream 
That turns the mountain-mill; 
And fair befall the narrow road 
That windeth up the hill! 
03 
