The Old Mill(the tidal mill in Forder Creek, Trematon)
by Dr Ken George
A train approaches powerfully;
we look yonder from the bridge fairly far;
we look directly at the sea in the South,
we see the old mill,
a house by the sea, a headland
on the bank of a creek of the Lynher estuary,
the place of the wall and a pond and a causeway;
all visible in the view from the bridge.
The pond full of the high tide,
water quivering across the pond.
Low tide has come, the beach is large,
extensive mud in place of a blue lake,
a pond which is choked though it is beautiful;
there is no rye, there is no draff,
white wheat nor buckwheat;
they are gone, alas and alack!
There is no machinery today;
whoever might have come formerly,
there is no trace behind them.
Where is the barley? Where are the oats?
Flour will last until the Judgment of the World;
the lifetime of the mill just ephemeral.
Every time we go in the train,
we give a look yonder from the bridge;
although this same sight is familiar,
we still look at the old mill.
Ken George in front of the old mill near Trematon