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THE OLD GRIST MILL
Painting By William E. Hardison
"THE OLD GRIST MILL"
Ah, there it is...upon the hill,
beneath that row of pines;
the last remains of grandpa's mill,
a relic from early times.
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See, below the boulders there,
within that small ravine,
the old turn wheel of yesteryear
lies weathered in the stream.
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Now, as I view this quaint old place,
a cloak of calm prevails;
remindin' me of joys embraced
with all the pleasant tales.
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My memory eye drifts there inside,
back when the grind wheel turned;
where corn meal from the hull was pried
when on the grind stone churned.
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And I recall from long ago
when I was only ten;
grandpa hitchin' up to tow
with mule and wagon bin.
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There across the doorway sill..
in and out he'd dart;
totin' sacks of ground corn meal
and stackin' on the cart.
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And when he got the cart all full,
he'd climb up there on top;
and yank the reigns on that old mule
to go to his first stop.
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Perhaps to some quaint market shop
or to a baker's store;
to sell the meal by my grandpop..
to feed the rich and poor.
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So there he goes beyond the hill,
my inner eye can view;
pleasant thoughts that linger still
of times that I once knew.
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To some, here lies a total mess,
to me, a spot supreme;
of what was once the very best,
still makes my heart serene!
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William E. Hardison copyrights / recorded
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