The Lesson of the Water Mill
Sarah Doudney
1841 to 1926
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Listen to the water-mill;
Through the livelong day,
How clicking of its wheel
Wears the hours away!
Languidly autumn wind,
Stirs the forest leaves,
From the field reapers sing,
Binding up their sheaves;
And a proverb my mind
As a spell is cast—
“The mill grind
With the water that is past.”
Autumn revive no more
Leaves that once are shed,
And sickle cannot reap
Corn once gatherèd;
Flows the ruffled on,
Tranquil, deep, and still;
Never gliding back again
the water-mill;
Truly speaks the proverb old
With a vast—
“The mill cannot grind
With the water that past.”
Take the lesson to thyself,
True and heart;
Golden youth is fleeting by,
Summer hours depart;
to make the most of life,
Lose no happy day;
Time will never bring thee back
Chances swept away!
no tender word unsaid,
Love while love shall last —
“The mill cannot grind
With the water that is past.”
Work while yet the daylight shines,
Man of and will!
Never does the streamlet glide
Useless by mill;
Wait not till to-morrow’s sun
Beams upon thy way,
All that thou canst call thine own
Lies in “To-day;”
Power, intellect and health
May not always last—
“The mill cannot grind
With the water that is past.”
Oh, the wasted hours of life
That have by!
Oh, the good that might have been—
Lost, a sigh!
Love that we might once have saved
a single word,
Thoughts conceived, but never penned,
Perishing unheard;—
Take the proverb to thine heart,
Take, and it fast—
“The mill cannot grind
With the water is past.”