I did not really verify this deeply, but the reason why Joanna Newsom wrote this song, might be the following:
Marie Russak (Marie Barnard Smith Russak Hotchener), the opera singer who went to the Mill, was also an architect. In the early 1920s, she designed the Moorcrest house. In 2014 Joanna News...
I see you coming down in your cherry wool coat
Bare to the throat like Marie at the Mill
Where might you go from your lowly amour
Where they hoard you like gold in a hill
Sink from my side to the cold river-bed
Marie, you go ahead, I will follow in time
The work keeps me here with a few pioneers
Magnetizing a permanent line
Save for the coat, there was nothing to bring
It was found you could sing, you were sent to the bay
At seminary you passed and were buried
I rose there the very next day
For if you were born at the wrong time, my dear
Just keep trying and trying and trying again
As for the end, it is not what you fear
You’re just slipping a glove from your hand
Like this
Down, down, down, down your wrists
Down, down, the list of lives
Husbands and wives
Dozens of times around again and then
I will be born of the girls, heartbroke, alone and to rot
And coat me the heir of labour and myth
I crossed the Atlantic from Boston to Nantes
On the hand of my dear Mr. Smith
Then came his talk of perdition and sin
Like a cold winter wind come to blow me away
I was impatient and I sought education
On stage on the Champs-Élysées
I left on my own with the clothes on my back
And my old name intact, and my own bills to pay
I left him in debt with his feathered [?]
"Alouette, je te plumerai"
I had the honor to sing Mendelssohn
On the Ternary lawn, for the brave and the few
But it was my joy to be called to Bayreuth
For who toiled as a slave comes anew
A prince, a gentler worthiness
And [?] one, who ruled a king
May wander in rags, for things done
And undone and done and undone and done
I wed Mr. Russak, a fan
And producer of amateur music all lambent in pearls
Held court in Newport, amused myself before
I threw off the veil of the world
And when in time he sank under the sea
What he deeded to me was enough to begin
As secretary and past emissary
I rose through the ranks from within
My carnelian snuff bottle carved as a peach
And a small sterling wagon, well, that was part of a set
Confined to the waters of Eliot Beach
Left behind with your Pall Mall gazette
It was not luck put me there by his side
When the old Colonel died, and the adepts appeared
And oh, what they shared, well, you had to be there
But I’ll tell you if you wanna hear
Henry, your work here is done
Annie will carry it on
Marie, write it all down
Til’ the keynote is found
You run it up and down and round and round and round
So I did as I could
All the gaps of the [?] for good and only good
Through some lands that I've long forgot
I won to write clean and only transcribe the thoughts of
The boy from the beach, with his pervious soul
"Go a little, teach, I got you, do it as you’re told”
And even so, there is danger here in the sun
Honey, tell me what has Sirius done?
I hear it all, though I cannot assume
Long may you follow to the octagon room
And the boy from the beach, look at him go
[?]
I see the clock on the wall, I hear the knock on the door, but that is all
And when my work here is through
Henry, will you find me anew
Little stranger, my old friend
Woo me and win me again, and again, and again
All over again
All over again
All over again
There’s a lodger in me
Larger than me
Saw the cross in the garden where your process came to be and cut you free
Though your father tried to reunite with you, and yet he was allowed to die, despite the lies we are grist in the mill
On the list I’m Helios still, Sun-Wielder
Brunhilde
Spun in shields
Running round, and round, and round
And round, and round, and round, and round
Marie at the Mill was written by Joanna Newsom.