THE BURNING OF THE TURNER MILL
77
And why that shrill voice shouting As if in dire alarm—Did'st know 'twas misdemeanor To break the Sabbath calm?—
As onward sped the herald. With face the hue of death And wild-bright eyes, an instant He paused to regain breath,—
Then quick, in tones reverberant That pealed from spire to spire Rang out the cry of terror:— "The mill! The mill's on fire!"
(Thro' the surrounding valley, And o'er adjacent hill; The echoes oft repeated:— "There's fire in the mill!")
Amazed were all the people— No word their lips could frame As on the breeze's soft pinions Again the wild cries came:—
