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The Griffin's Thread: From Spindle To Spirit

  • Writer: Anne Childress
    Anne Childress
  • Nov 29
  • 2 min read

The Griffin's Thread: From Spindle to Spirit

To the People of Dundee Mills, 2012

(Picture Credits:

(Picture Credits: David Baughn, City of Griffin, B. Brown)

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In Georgia's heart, where red clay lies serene,

A town called Griffin dreamt a vibrant scene.


Then came the rumble, iron gears began,

Birth of the industry in 1883's plan.


The stack rose high, a sentinel in the blue,

Whispers spread of honest work to do.


From the field and the porch, the people came to stay,

To punch the clock and earn an honest day.


Dundee Mills village bloomed, a culture tightly spun,

Every street is beneath the Georgia sun


Held simple houses, schools for children bright,

Churches standing, warm with Sunday light.


The rhythm hummed: the shuttle, quick and low,

A constant beat that made the community grow.


The payroll day brought plenty, hard-won grace,

A tapestry of smiles on every face.


One town, one purpose, bound by cotton thread—

The spirit of Dundee Mills well-fed, well-bred.


But time, it turns, and seasons shift too fast,

The old ways fade, the golden days are past.


Quiet fear arrived upon the breeze,

As profits shifted, they were carried overseas.


The name was changed, the final deal was drawn,

By the 1990s, dusk was gone.


The mill was sold, from Dundee to the new,

When Springs Industries signed the final view.


Then came the quiet—no shuttle, loom, or din,

Just empty gates where thousands entered in.


Jobs departed, swift as summer rain,

Leaving behind a deep and piercing pain.


The town grew thin, the heart that beat so strong,

Felt poverty's shadow where it didn't belong.


The laughter dimmed, the closeness slipped away,

A shattered mirror of a brighter day.


Small-town tightness, cherished and revered,

Lost beneath the weight of what was feared.


Legend tells of creatures born of fire,

In this loss, we find a new desire.


The mythical Gryphon, fierce and ever bold,

Can rise again, no longer bound by old.


The bricks may crumble, the windows may be blind,

The Dundee Mills strong spirit remains behind.


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By Anne Hendricks, M.Ed. 2012-2017

 
 
 

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