Passion-Flowers (Howe)/Mind versus Mill-Stream

MIND VERSUS MILL-STREAM.

A Miller wanted a mill-stream, A mild, efficient brookTo help him to his living, in Some snug and shady nook.

But our Miller had a brilliant taste, A love of flash and spray,And so, the stream that charmed him most Was that of brightest play.

It wore a quiet look, at times, And steady seemed, and still,But when its quicker depths were stirred, Wow! but it wrought its will.

And men had tried to bridle it By artifice, and force,But madness from its rising grew, And all along its course.

'Twas on a sultry summer's day, The Miller chanced to stopWhere it invited to 'look in And take a friendly drop.'

Coiffed with long wreaths of crimson weed, Veiled by a passing cloud,It looked a novice of the woods That dares not speak aloud.

Said he: 'I never met a stream More beautiful and bland,'Twill gain my bread, and bless it too, So here my mill shall stand.'

And ere the summer's glow had passed, Or crimson flowers did fade,The Miller measured out his ground, And his foundation laid.

The Miller toiled with might and main, Builded with thought and care;And when the Spring broke up the ice The water-wheel stood there.

Like a frolic maiden come from school, The stream looked out, anew;And the happy Miller bowing, said, 'Now turn my mill-wheel, do!'

'Your mill-wheel?' cried the naughty Nymph, 'That would, indeed, be fine!You have your business, I suppose, Learn too that I have mine.'

'What better business can you have, Than turn this wheel for me?'Leaping and laughing, the wild thing cried, 'Follow, and you may see.'

The Miller trudged with measured pace, As Reason follows Rhyme,And saw his mill-stream run to waste, In the very teeth of time.

'Fore heaven!' he swore, 'since thou'rt perverse, I've hit upon a plan;A dam shall stay thine outward course, And then, break out who can.'

So he built a dam of wood and stone, Not sparing in the cost,'For,' thought our friend, 'this water-power 'Must not be lightly lost.'

'What? will you force me?' said the sprite; 'You shall not find it gain;'So, with a flash, a dash, a crash, She made her way amain.

Then, freeing all her pent-up soul, She rushed, in frantic raceAnd fragments of the Miller's work Threw in the Miller's face.

The good man built his dam again, More stoutly than before;He flung no challenge to the foe, But an oath he inly swore:

'Thou seest resistance is in vain, So yield with better grace.'And the water sluices turned the stream To its appointed place.

'Aha! I've conquered now!' quoth he, For the water-fury boldWas still an instant, ere she rose In wrath and power fourfold.

With roar and rush, and massive sweep She cleared the shameful bound,And flung to utterness of waste The Miller, and his mound.

MORAL.

If you would marry happily On the shady side of life,Choose out some quietly-disposed And placid tempered wife,

To share the length of sober days, And dimly slumberous nights, But well beware those fitful souls Fate wings for wilder flights!

For men will woo the tempest, And wed it, to their cost,Then swear they took it for summer dew, And ah! their peace is lost!