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Edwin Arlington Robinson - The Mill

The miller's wife had waited long,
The tea was cold, the fire was dead;
And there might yet be nothing wrong
In how he went and what he said:
"There are no millers any more,"
Was all that she had heard him say;
And he had lingered at the door
So long that it seemed yesterday.

Sick with a fear that had no form
She knew that she was there at last;
And in the mill there was a warm
And mealy fragrance of the past.
What else there was would only seem
To say again what he had meant;
And what was hanging from a beam
Would not have heeded where she went.

And if she thought it followed her,
She may have reasoned in the dark
That one way of the few there were
Would hide her and would leave no mark:
Black water, smooth above the weir
Like starry velvet in the night,
Though ruffled once, would soon appear
The same as ever to the sight.

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Added: Feb 4 2004 | Viewed: 170 times | Comments and analysis of The Mill by Edwin Arlington Robinson Comments (42)

The Mill - Comments and Information

Poet: Edwin Arlington Robinson
Poem: The Mill
Poem of the Day: Nov 23 2000

Comment 42 of 42, added on May 10th, 2017 at 6:21 AM.
wBHvfnoEqWBotDhEz

yidlx1 Thanks for the blog post.Really thank you! Fantastic.

jake jilennanal from Bulgaria
Comment 41 of 42, added on March 4th, 2017 at 5:34 PM.
sBKvsjtdsTZIj

X6OL5y Simply a smiling visitant here to share the love (:, btw great design.

lovely shez from Ireland
Comment 40 of 42, added on March 4th, 2017 at 10:15 AM.
rKnAIzwRMJfUgV

axEKXs Wow, great article.Really thank you! Great.

lovely shez from Papua New Guinea

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