Across the tail-race of a mill,
And through a churchyard on the hill.
They found the wheel, with head and feet,
And band and fixtures, all complete;
And soon beneath the trying load
Were struggling on the homeward road.
They had some trouble, toil, and care,
Some hoisting here, and hauling there;
At times, the wheel upon a fence
Defied them all to drag it thence,
As though determined to remain
And serve the farmer, guarding grain.
But patient head and willing hand
Can wonders work in every land;
And cunning Brownies never yield,
But aye as victors leave the field.
Some ran for sticks, and some for pries,
And more for blocks on which to rise,
That every hand or shoulder there,
In such a pinch might do its share.
Before the door they set the wheel,
And near at hand the winding reel,
That some might wind while others spun,
And thus the task be quickly done.
| No time was wasted, now, to find What best would suit each hand or mind. Some through the cottage crept about To find the wool and pass it out; With some to turn, and some to pull, And some to shout, "The spindle's full!" The wheel gave out a droning song,— The work in hand was pushed along. Their mode of action and their skill With wonder might a spinster fill; For out across the yard entire They spun the yarn like endless wire,— | |
| Beyond the well with steady haul, Across the patch of beans and all, Until the walls, or ditches wide, A greater stretch of wool denied. The widow's yarn was quickly wound In tidy balls, quite large and round. |
