Page:Twilight Hours (1868).djvu/273

 Y the ripple, ripple of the shallow sea, By the rocky sea, By the hollow sea, We have built a giant windmill, with its long arms free, And it grinds, that we May not hungry be. With a rumble and a roar, sounding all along the shore, We should vanish and should perish if our wheel were heard no more. Little hopes of fisher maidens in the far-off town, In our wheel go down, Evermore go down, For the fisher lads that hold them in the deep sea drown ; By our grinding drown, For our pleasures drown.