The Cider Mill

The windfalls strew the orchard ground,

      And yonder ‘neath the hill

Behold the lively scenes within

      The good, old cider mill.

It’s sunken roof, its battered sides,

      Tho’ rough and tumble-down,

Have ever held a potent charm

      For every boy in town.

The slowly grinding cogs, the horse

      Who walks an endless round,

The “drip-drip” of the straw-bound cheese,

      The tub upon the ground.

The red-cheeked farmer, and anear

      The golden cider pile;

And O, the joy to take a straw

      And linger there awhile!

Aug. 30, 1904