The Mingus Mill is nestled among trees, but, in its heyday, the mill was surrounded by cleared fields and crops. The present structure was completed in 1886. The mill's distinction was its metal turbine, an improvement on the traditional wooden waterwheel that made Mingus Mill one of the most advanced in the Smokies. A poem by Voilet Lee, written in 1873 is a lovely poetic expession of another grist mill where her "darling" worked.
At the Old Mill
Radiant day is slowly fading,
And the evening calm and still,
Gazing through the oak and willow,
Stoops to kiss the ancient mill.
And the evening calm and still,
Gazing through the oak and willow,
Stoops to kiss the ancient mill.
Listen to the damsel dancing
To the jig of feed and flour,
And the water-wheel revolving
With a dashing, constant power.
To the jig of feed and flour,
And the water-wheel revolving
With a dashing, constant power.
There is music in the rattle
Of the tinkling wheat that falls,
In the hopper, as the miller
Stops to heed the gristman’s calls.
Of the tinkling wheat that falls,
In the hopper, as the miller
Stops to heed the gristman’s calls.
Yes, I love this shaded building,
Love the flowing stream and flowers,
Love to hear the busy clatter
On the lingering summer hours.
Love the flowing stream and flowers,
Love to hear the busy clatter
On the lingering summer hours.
More than all, I love the miller,
For his sake, I love the rest;
Of this world and its enchantments
I adore him the best.
For his sake, I love the rest;
Of this world and its enchantments
I adore him the best.
Of these twilights I would weary
If his voice came not to cheer.
And this mill – life would grow dreary
If my darling was not here.
If his voice came not to cheer.
And this mill – life would grow dreary
If my darling was not here.
Violet Lee, 1873
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