Page:Poems Merrill.djvu/89

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THE BURNING OF THE TURNER MILL
83
No structure supersedeth
Where flow these waters free;—
Tho' none can e'er determine
What may in future be.

Yet now, as rubious sunset
In splendor gilds the waves;
And sweet, naiadic music
Is wafting from the caves—

Oft in disconsolation
The zephyrs whisper still
This tragic tale:—relating,
The burning of the mill.