THE BROWNIES IN HOLLAND.

It did not prove a simple gust,
To bend the grass and hurl the dust,
But such a wind as rends the ash

 

And brings the steeple with a crash.
And though the rust had time to spoil
The journals that now screeched for oil,
As if complaining at the part
They played against all rules of art,
The mill did greater stir display
That hour than in its perfect day,
And had there been some grain inside,
The town would soon have been supplied
With flour from the smoking stones,
That turned within with creaks and groans.

But Brownies, as before was told,

Are not the kind that lose their hold,

And so through all their circling trip

But few, if any, lost their grip,

And even when the vanes gave out—

And some soon did, and flew about

In wild career before the blast—

The Brownies still were clinging fast,

And though they suffered many a shake

They reached the ground without a break.

Then one remarked: ‘I think ’t is time

We traveled to some other clime.”

   

      

Other countries
to survey.

U7

We must travel y
come what ma Roy
2 ==,

 

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