The miller's wife had waited long, br The tea was cold, the fire was dead; br And there might yet be nothing wrong br In how he went and what he said: br "There are no millers any more," br Was all that she heard him say; br And he had lingered at the door br So long it seemed like yesterday. br br Sick with a fear that had no form br She knew that she was there at last; br And in the mill there was a warm br And mealy fragrance of the past. br What else there was would only seem br To say again what he had meant; br And what was hanging from a beam br Would not have heeded where she went. br br And if she thought it followed her, br She may have reasoned in the dark br That one way of the few there were br Would hide her and would leave no mark: br Black water, smooth above the weir br Like starry velvet in the night, br Though ruffled once, would soon appear br The same as ever to the sight.