There is a mill, an ancient one
Brown with rain, and dry with sun
The miller's house is joined with it
And in July the swallows flit
To and fro, in and out
Round the windows, all about;
The mill wheel whirrs and the waters roar
Out of the dark arch by the door
The willows toss their silver heads
And the phloxes in the garden beds
Turn red, turn grey
With the time of day
And smell sweet in the rain, then die away

The miller's cat is a tabby, she
Is as lean as a healthy cat can be
She plays in the loft where the sunbeams stroke
The sacks' fat backs, and beetles choke
In the floury dust. The Wheel goes round
And the miller's wife sleeps fast and sound

There is a clock inside the house
Very tall and very bright
It strikes the hour when shadows drowse
Or showers make the windows white;
Loud and sweet, in rain and sun
The clock strikes, and the work is done
The miller's wife and his eldest girl
Clean and cook, while the mill wheels whirl
The children take their meat to school
And at dusk they play by the twilit pool;
Bare-foot, bare-head
Till the day is dead
And their mother calls them in to bed
The supper stands on the clean-scrubbed board
And the miller drinks like a thirsty lord;
The young men come for his daughter's sake
But she never knows which one to take;
She drives her needle, and pins her stuff
While the moon shines gold, and the lamp shines buff