“At the Old Mill”
by Violet Lee
Radiant day is slowly fading,
And the evening calm and still,
Gazing through the oak and willow,
Stoops to kiss the ancient mill.
Listen to the damsel dancing
To the jig of feed and flour,
And the water-wheel revolving
With a dashing, constant power.
There is music in the rattle
Of the tinkling wheat that falls,
In the hopper, as the miller
Stops to heed the gristman’s calls.
Yes, I love this shaded building,
Love the flowing stream and flowers,
Love to hear the busy clatter
On the lingering summer hours.
More than all, I love the miller,
For his sake, I love the rest;
Of this world and its enchantments
I adore him the best.
Of these twilights I would weary
If his voice came not to cheer.
And this mill – life would grow dreary
If my darling was not here.
Images by kenne
Always enjoy sitting by one of those old mill streams that power the mill. Beautiful pictures and poem.
Thank you.
Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being and commented:
Four years I posted this blog after Joy and I visited Kathy and Bob in Winchester, VA. These photos were taken at the Burwell-Morgan Mill In Millwood, Virginia. This was the second of two posts on this old mill. Heres a link to the first one — https://kenneturner.com/2013/06/16/burwell-morgan-mill-in-millwood-virginia/
— kenne