(This poem, for a summer reading project, is 813 words. A POEM. It might make no sense, due to the fact that it's about a book I've read. This poem sucks, but I'm posting it anyway.)

Mercy on the Miller's daughters.
The plague of death has come to mind,
Their father's debt has come to find,
A coat of blue has come to bind
The pitiful Miller's daughters.

Mercy on the Miller's daughters.
Cried "Blood to bone, I summon thee,"
Prayed "Hearth to home, I summon thee,"
Hoped for the gods to come and see
The pitiful Miller's daughters.

A deal with Jack to spin the mold;
Their mother's ring for spools of gold.
The debt had waned from string they'd sold,
The persistent Miller's daughters.

Mercy on the Miller's daughters.
The scent of lilacs were quite strange,
The powdered wigs were such a change,
Their city uncle shall arrange
The fates of the Miller's daughters.

None shall take their family mill,
The girls declared with stubborn will.
The stuffy lilacs seemed to kill
The ill-fated Miller's daughters.

Mercy on the Miller's daughters.
A cruel someone had slashed their cloth,
Their bolts of baize was cut with wroth,
The damage seen on every swath---
The pitiful Miller's daughters.

Their uptown uncle couldn't help,
The frozen river would not melt,
The mortgage payment wasn't dealt,
For the rueful Miller's daughters.

Mercy on the Miller's daughters.
Cried "Blood to bone, I summon thee,"
Prayed "Hearth to home, I summon thee,"
Hoped for Spinner to come and see
The pitiful Miller's daughters.

A deal with Jack to weave the thread,
The eldest waived, with a tear shed,
Her husband's gift from when she'd wed
For the cornered Miller's daughters.

Mercy on the Miller's daughters.
The debtor's prison dove him mad,
He needed money--- just a tad,
The coat of blue to fool a lad
Who worked for the Miller's daughters.

Betrayed by their dearest uncle,
Who'd schemed to see their mill crumble
Beneath workshops not so humble,
Were the cheated Miller's daughters.

Mercy on the Miller's daughters.
Cried "Earth and sky, I summon thee,"
Prayed "Far and nigh, come now to me,"
Begged for Spinner to come and see
The pitiful Miller's daughters.

A deal with Jack to outbid law,
The eldest vowed she'll give him all,
He said their pride will be their fall,
The desperate Miller's daughters.

Mercy on the Miller's daughters.
The city buyers had all lost,
Their uncle trapped in his own cost,
Learned some bridges should not be crossed,
Did the weary Miller's daughters.

Spinner arrived to take her son,
Told the eldest the deed was done.
She promised all if he had won,
Jack reminded the Miller's daughters.

Pity for the Miller's daughters.
The eldest girl in disarray
Begged Jack Spinner for a delay,
Which he agreed on three more days
For the foolish Miller's daughters.

Searching for secrets of her name,
Did the girl find a ghastly game
Of setting witches up aflame
Played by filthy Miller fathers.

All the despicable Millers.
Their naïve, moronic daughters,
Their deathly, bewitched, feeble sons,
Their immoral, laughing fathers.
Especially the fathers.

Curse all of the Miller fathers.
You and all your yourn will suffer
The losses, that I, John Simple,
Have felt, until your sons die out,
So I'll meet you in Hell, Millers!

How dare do the Miller fathers
Not bat an eye at the young one,
The angry one, my dearest son---
Drowned in a pit of their mistakes!
How dare they cast their faults on me!

How dare do the Miller fathers
Scream of witchcraft; bedevilment!
Sheep bewitched? Fair excuse to hang!
Blaming illiterate victims,
While they themselves conspire!

Curse the Wheeler fathers!
Pleas were not heard upon their ears:
"Give my son's body back to me!"
"Don't string me up to yonder tree!"
Did you see your villainous men?

Charlotte Miller, the eldest girl,
You'd be doomed without my mercy.
Your mother's ring, your husband's too,
What can a small babe mean to you?

Charlotte Miller, make up your mind,
Son or the mill? It's all your choice!
I'll throw in your uncle, all poor,
His Wheeler name pales next to yours!

Charlotte Miller, it is on you.
The mill's creaking, sighing your name.
Do you see the folks standing back?
Is it time for your will to crack...?

Charlotte, the courageous mother,
Said to Simple, like no other,
She can't give him to another.
He as well, to his idle son.

"John Simple, I will hold you to your word."

"Charlotte Woodstone, you have my bond."

Silence in the Stirwaters Mill.
Mercy in the Miller's daughter.
Mercy for the Miller fathers.
Mercy for lost sons of Miller mothers.

Charlotte Woodstone, a cursed Miller no more,
Embraced her son, as well as her uncle,
Joined by her sister; brother in spirit,
Then Randall Woodstone, her loving husband,
And the village folk standing in the back.

Charlotte Woodstone, a forgiving daughter,
At a church field, just by the river,
Buried a spirit born from the bitter
And harsh curses of a man who'd been wronged,
Under the dark, damp earth of Stirwaters.