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Uckfield & District Preservation Society
Forlorn and frail in form is Nutley Mill
Out where the curlews, wailing through the night,
Alone disturb the air, where all is still,
On Ashdown’s heights.
Grim and black in the sky stands Nutley Mill,
Alas! No more its sails in measured flights
Softly surrender to the miller’s will
On Ashdown’s heights.
Shrill, through its hollow, shattered frame the wind
Whistles its dirge, and mockingly invites
The tattered wreck to rise again and grind
On Ashdown’s heights.
J. B. Paddon 1920
Out where the curlews, wailing through the night,
Alone disturb the air, where all is still,
On Ashdown’s heights.
Grim and black in the sky stands Nutley Mill,
Alas! No more its sails in measured flights
Softly surrender to the miller’s will
On Ashdown’s heights.
Shrill, through its hollow, shattered frame the wind
Whistles its dirge, and mockingly invites
The tattered wreck to rise again and grind
On Ashdown’s heights.
J. B. Paddon 1920
Nutley Mill in 1860
