Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE WATER MILL, by ANN HAWKSHAW


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE WATER MILL, by                    
First Line: Any grist for the mill?
Last Line: "when snow-flakes are the meal."
Alternate Author Name(s): Aunt Effie; Hawkshawe, Ann; Jackson, Ann
Subject(s): Mills & Millers


"ANY grist for the mill?'
How merrily it goes!
Flap, flap, flap, flap,
While the water flows.
Round-about, and round-about,
The heavy mill-stones grind,
And the dust flies all about the mill,
And makes the miller blind.

"Any grist for the mill?
The jolly farmer packs
His waggon with a heavy load
Of very heavy sacks.
Noisily, oh noisily,
The mill-stones turn about:
You cannot make the miller hear
Unless you scream and shout.

"Any grist for the mill?
The bakers come and go;
They bring their empty sacks to fill,
And leave them down below.
They dusty miller and his men
Fill all the sacks they bring,
And while they go about their work
Right merrily they sing.

"Any grist for the mill?"
How quickly it goes round!
Splash, splash, splash, splash,
With a whirring sound.
Farmers, bring your corn to-day,
And bakers, buy your flour;
Dusty millers, work away,
While it is in your power.

"Any grist for the mill?"
Alas! it will not go;
The river, too, is standing still,
The ground is white with snow.
And when the frosty weather comes
And freezes up the streams,
The miller only hears the mill
And grinds the corn in dreams.

Living close beside the mill,
The miller's girls and boys
Always play at make-believe,
Because they have no toys.
"Any grist for our mill?"
The elder brothers shout,
While all the little Petticoats
Go whirling round about

The miller's little boys and girls
Rejoice to see the snow.
"Good father, play with us to-day;
You cannot work, you know.
We will be the mill-stones,
And you shall be the wheel;
We'll pelt each other with the snow,
And it shall be the meal."

Oh, heartily the miller's wife
Is laughing at the door:
She never saw the mill worked
So merrily before.
"Bravely done, my little lads,
Rouse up the lazy wheel,
For money comes but slowly in
When snow-flakes are the meal."





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