THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER.
47
XXIV.
I've half a mind to walk, my love,
To the old mill across the wolds,
For look! the sunset from above
Winds all the vale in rosy folds,
And fires your narrow casementglass,
Touching the sullen pool below.
On the chalk-hill the bearded grass
Is dry and dewless. Let us go.
I've half a mind to walk, my love,
To the old mill across the wolds,
For look! the sunset from above
Winds all the vale in rosy folds,
And fires your narrow casementglass,
Touching the sullen pool below.
On the chalk-hill the bearded grass
Is dry and dewless. Let us go.
