Old Mill-Wheel

 

Glenfaba Water Mill282Old water mill, thy lumbering wheel

Still turns in heavy majesty;

Its measured movement may reveal

The sure approach of destiny

For men, by modern ways possesed,

May quickly bring that wheel to rest.

 

But ere it stop, and stop for aye,

It speaks to us of leisured hours:

It breathes a sigh for yesterday

When there was time to gather flowers.

Alone where once a dozen turned,

It will too soon be likewise spurned.

 

What would it tell if it could speak,

That everyone should hear and know?

Of angry words, of blushing cheek,

Of childrens laughter, hasty blow?

Or would it only sing a song

Of constant strife ‘twixt right and wrong?

 

It cannot answer if we ask,

But turns its bulk, inured to scorn;

The water feeds it for its task,

The purpose for its being born.

Revolving as the daily sun

Until its life-long labour’s done.

 

 

Weekly Times 17.11.61