www.sussexmillsgroup.org.uk

Behold !           A giant am I !           Aloft here in my tower.      With my granite jaws I devour the maize, and the wheat, and the rye and grind them into flour.
I look down over the farms; in the fields I see the harvest that is to be and I fling to the air my arms for I know it is all for me.
I hear the sound of flails far off, from the threshing-floors in barns, with their open doors and the wind, the wind in my sails, louder and louder roars.
I stand here in my place with my foot on the rock below and whichever way it may blow I meet it face to face as a brave man meets his foe.
And while we wrestle and strive my master, the miller, stands and feeds me with his hands for he knows who makes him thrive who makes him lord of lands.
On Sundays I take my rest, church-going bells begin their low, melodious din. I cross my arms on my breast and all is peace within.

www.sussexmillsgroup.org.uk