| Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882). Complete Poetical Works. 1893. | | | | Ultima Thule | Folk-Songs.
The Windmill |
| | | BEHOLD! a giant am I! | |
| Aloft here in my tower, | |
| With my granite jaws I devour | |
| The maize, and the wheat, and the rye, | |
| And grind them into flour. | 5 |
| |
| I look down over the farms; | |
| In the fields of grain I see | |
| The harvest that is to be, | |
| And I fling to the air my arms, | |
| For I know it is all for me. | 10 |
| |
| I hear the sound of flails | |
| Far off, from the threshing-floors | |
| In barns, with their open doors, | |
| And the wind, the wind in my sails, | |
| Louder and louder roars. | 15 |
| |
| I stand here in my place, | |
| With my foot on the rock below, | |
| And whichever way it may blow, | |
| I meet it face to face | |
| As a brave man meets his foe. | 20 |
| |
| And while we wrestle and strive, | |
| My master, the miller, stands | |
| And feeds me with his hands; | |
| For he knows who makes him thrive, | |
| Who makes him lord of lands. | 25 |
| |
| On Sundays I take my rest; | |
| Church-going bells begin | |
| Their low, melodious din; | |
| I cross my arms on my breast, | |
| And all is peace within. | 30 | | | |
|
|
