Farewell

Farewell to the bushy clump close to the river And the flags where the butter-bump hides in for ever; Farewell to the weedy nook, hemmed in by waters; Farewell to the miller's brook and his three bonny daughters; Farewell to them all while in prison I lie-- In the prison a thrall sees nought but the sky. Shut out are the green fields and birds in the bushes; In the prison yard nothing builds, blackbirds or thrushes, Farewell to the old mill and dash of the waters, To the miller and, dearer still, to his three bonny daughters.…