Myth and Romance - Being a Book of Verses by Madison Julius Cawein
page 20 of 119 (16%)
page 20 of 119 (16%)
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Now this, now that, on which their interests fix,
Prospects for rain or frost, and politics. While, all around, the sweet smell of the meal Filters, warm-pouring from the grinding wheel Into the bin; beside which, mealy white, The miller looms, dim in the dusty light. Again I see the miller's home, between The crinkling creek and hills of beechen green: Again the miller greets me, gaunt and brown, Who oft o'erawed me with his gray-browed frown And rugged mien: again he tries to reach My youthful mind with fervid scriptural speech.-- For he, of all the country-side confessed, The most religious was and happiest; A Methodist, and one whom faith still led, No books except the Bible had he read-- At least so seemed it to my younger head.-- All things in earth and heav'n he'd prove by this, Be it a fact or mere hypothesis; For to his simple wisdom, reverent, "_The Bible says_" was all of argument.-- God keep his soul! his bones were long since laid Among the sunken gravestones in the shade Of those black-lichened rocks, that wall around The family burying-ground with cedars crowned; Where bristling teasel and the brier combine With clambering wood-rose and the wild-grape vine To hide the stone whereon his name and dates Neglect, with mossy hand, obliterates. |
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