WHEEL AND SHUTTLE.
Spin: God will send thee flax.—Proverb.
[Although differing slightly from his literal experience, nevertheless to the boy, long ago grown to manhood, who used to cling to his mother’s dress, and fretfully toddle back and forth as she patiently sent the big wheel whirring and then ran backwards with her lengthening thread, then forwards, and so on, hour after hour, spinning threads for the home-loom, this poem, with its application to life, has in it the pleasing scent of the roses of recollection, intoxicating even to sadness.]
“Spin, spin!”
The warp is in
Let thy fingers never rest,
Heed the weaver’s stern behest,
“Spin, spin!”
While the woof is weaving in,
God will send thee flax.
“Spin, spin!”
The wheels begin,
And the distaff never lacks:
Let thy spindle’s endless thrum
Fill the shuttles as they hum
“Spin, spin!”
While the woof is weaving in,
God will send thee flax.
“Spin, spin!”—
Thy fingers thin
Let the carded threads relax!
Lo! the wheel is standing dumb,
For the loom has ceased its grum
“Spin, spin!”—
Aye, the woof is woven in,
God has sent thee flax!