While everything external
dies away in the far off
echo of the soul
still there’s a mill wheel turning
it is like a good
kind of tiredness in
the moment before sleep
by some distant stream
a note of peace
in a life which
will never be peaceful
as the daylight fades
the dream disintegrates
but the shadow holds
no power
over what’s about to happen
dies away in the far off
echo of the soul
still there’s a mill wheel turning
it is like a good
kind of tiredness in
the moment before sleep
by some distant stream
a note of peace
in a life which
will never be peaceful
as the daylight fades
the dream disintegrates
but the shadow holds
no power
over what’s about to happen
Flatford Mill: John Constable, 1817 (Tate Gallery)
"The sound of water escaping from mill dams, willows, old rotten planks, slimy posts and brickwork, I love such things."
.
2 comments:
I love the feel of this poem, that first step off the diving board only quieter more self-contained...the poem has a personal feel, but the title pulls the whole Human Village into the poem...the word village brings an intimacy, a quaintness...
Sue Ann Simar
Sue Ann,
Thank you for "getting" this one... you may be the first to do so (I guess the poet himself doesn't count).
Post a Comment