The Passing Of A Foolish Young Heart

She was a pretty creature when she first came to the mill,

A-smirking and a-flirting just as comely maidens will.

She was a pretty creature when she first came to the mill.

She was young and plump and fancy when she first came to the mill,

She was blitheless, careless, trusting,– fearing neither good nor ill.

She was young and sweet and roguish when she first came to the mill.

Every wicked eye was on her when she first came to the mill.

Every tongue it sang her praises till her heart it had it fill.

Every evil eye was on her when she first came to the mill.

‘Twas a sorry, sorry morning when she first came to the mill;

She was caught and madly hurried down the stream foreman (?) to kill.

‘Twas a sorry, sorry journey when she first came to the mill.

O, she listened to mock praises when she first came to the mill.

She let her love of pleasures sweep away her girlish will;

And she drank the dregs of folly ere she’d long been at the mill.

She was a pretty creature when she first came to the mill;

By and by her steps were heavy, and ‘twere whispered she was ill.

And we never heard her laughter any more within the mill.

Feb. 25, ‘97