Here is the mill with the humming of thunder
Here is the weir with the wonder of foam
Here is the sluice with the race running under --
Marvellous places, though handy to home!

Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller
Stiller the note of the birds on the hill;
Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller
Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill

Years may go by, and thе wheel in the river
Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day
Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for еver
Long after all of the boys are away

Home from the Indies and home from the ocean
Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home;
Still we shall hear the old mill wheel in motion
Turning and churning the river to foam