"The Lady of Shalott" by John William Waterhouse‘The Miller’s Daughter’ by Bob McAfee The Society September 15, 2019 Beauty, Poetry, Short Stories 3 Comments inspired by “The Lady of Shalott” by Tennyson Part I The forests loom at Nottinghamshire. The river oaks still aiming higher, Surround the field where from the byre The cattle trample through the briar ____Down to the surly water. The gristmill stands along the shore As barefoot on the sawdust floor, Whisking shadows out the door ____Runs Nell, the miller’s daughter. Among the fields of wheat and barley The farmers gather long and early With sinewed hands both veined and gnarly The sheaves of grains now tied securely ____In wagons drawn to the Idle’s water That flows to keep the millstone grinding, The gentle current now reminding All who enter of the blinding ____Beauty of the miller’s daughter. Around the stone the men are straining, Attentive to the grist and graining, But Nell’s alert to one in training And when she sees his strength is waning ____She brings the cup of water. The young lad whom her father’s teaching, In spite of what the miller‘s preaching, Abides in hope, his heart beseeching ____The love of the miller’s daughter. Part II. King John, ensconced in Nottingham Castle, Celebrating season’s wassail, Listens to his liege and vassal Praise her beauty, fair and facile ____Maiden of the lovely water. A rainbow rises for an omen. The king decides to send his yeomen, The sheriff and the royal bowmen, ____To fetch the miller’s daughter. Outside the black crow sounds a warning, Spreads like wildfire through the morning, A song that sets the fields aburning, Echoing the hoofbeats churning ____onward toward the murky water. The sheriff with his armor gleaming, Urging on his horsemen teeming, All the while his mind is scheming ____To capture the miller’s daughter. The crow is joined in raucous chorus, The horsemen bursting from the forest, Their bearded faces dark and onerous, Foul as the dark clouds building over us, ____Black as the fetid water. Before the crow can leave the gorse, Nell, seated on an empty horse, Is prisoner of a fiendish force. ____Pray for the miller’s daughter. Part III. Upstream at Hartford ferry crossing, The vessel heaves, the river tossing, From the north the storm accosting The shores in throes exhausting, ____Roils the turgid water. From the south the hoof beats clatter Like the magpie’s endless chatter, Now covered in the furrowed splatter, ____Rides the miller’s daughter Onto the solid oaken flooring, Surrounded by her captors, roaring. “Cast off” the sheriff shouts ignoring The ferryman, in fear deploring ____The rising of the water, Who only does what he is bidden, No stranger to the danger hidden Off-shore, to where the barge is ridden. ____Beware, the miller’s daughter. Halfway there the ferry, keening, Astride the whirlpool’s wild careening, The faces of the yeomen greening, No time for godly intervening ____To tame the raging water. With a final frantic reaching, The ferry’s hull athwart is breaching, The king’s men cleave the river, screeching, ____Along with the miller’s daughter. Part IV. From the tree top calls the raven, The image in his eye engraven Of sheriff, archers, yeomen craven, Struggling to reach the haven ____Of the far side of the water. All are safe save one who’s chosen To remain immersed in river frozen, Surging southward toward the ocean ____Flows Nell, the miller’s daughter. Downstream a boy is watching, chaste, The conquering of his fear embraced, Through his belt a rope enlaced, Held by the miller’s helpers placed ____Behind as he knifes the water. The young man knows he has one chance, To subdivide the wide expanse, Swim until he joins the dance, ____To waltz the miller’s daughter. Astride the boil, the maiden, coping, Resists the river’s constant groping, Inside her breast her strong heart hoping, Flies toward the boy, enwrapped in roping, ____Closing through the water. At last the dance of lurch and leaper, Ne’er was there a happier reaper, The young fish in his net’s a keeper. ____He’s caught the miller’s daughter. Writing for a quarter century but just recently self-publishing, Bob McAfee is a retired software consultant who lives near Boston and has published “Book 1 Mysteries / New Poems by Bob McAfee” 2017, “Book 2 Enchantments / New Poems by Bob McAfee” 2018, “Book 3 Caprices / Limericks and Nonsense Rhymes by Bob McAfee” 2019, all available through Harvard Bookstore in soft cover for $10 or free at bob-mcafee.com. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who harasses or disrespects you. Simply send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comment or comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 3 Responses C.B. Anderson September 15, 2019 Bob, This was a very ambitious undertaking, which flowed as steadily as the waters described within it, but I wonder whether the modern corrupted imagination can take it all in. Though, it would be fair to say that there are readers of this site whose imagination remains uncorrupted. What I especially liked was your willingness to employ not-quite-perfect rhymes here and there — they are more charming than alarming — but I hope that you will allow that this hearkening back to old styles is a pleasant diversion and not some new trend paving the way to new poetic futures. Your technique, throughout, was excellent. Reply Dan Davis September 15, 2019 Hello Bob, Thank you so much for this lovely piece. I have a love of the old forms and for telling tales through poetry. Though I am not new to writing poetry, I am certainly still young and I do not have much experience. I have been looking for a website or club where I could find others who also share a love of this kind of poetry. Yours is the first that I have read on this website and I just wanted to let you know that you have inspired and intrigued a young aspiring poet. I do not need fame or to make money off of poetry. I just love it, and given what I’ve read here, I think I have found a place where others love it in the way I do. Thank you. Reply James A. Tweedie September 15, 2019 Bob, I, too, wish to thank you for a fine poem in which you have woven a great story into the fabric. Along with complimenting you on the fine poem, I want to also thank you for resisting what must have been a great temptation to put an exclamation point at the end of the final line!!! To Dan, I believe that if you search the SCP archives you will find some other fine story-poems lurking. I also encourage you to share some of your own. 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