The Mockers and other Verses By Jane Barlow |
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A SPINNER'S DREAM |
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 | The Mockers and other Verses |  |
52
A SPINNER'S DREAM
Norah Shiel, the neighbours say,
Lives, poor soul, as best she may,
And her little house is lone,
Silent grown so many a day.
Lives, poor soul, as best she may,
And her little house is lone,
Silent grown so many a day.
Spinning now at eventide,
Sits her dusky door beside,
Fronting where a heathery crest
Frets the western clearness wide.
Sits her dusky door beside,
Fronting where a heathery crest
Frets the western clearness wide.
Round about her nothing stirs
Save the wheel that scarcely whirs
Louder than a wild bee hid
Questing mid the golden furze.
Save the wheel that scarcely whirs
Louder than a wild bee hid
Questing mid the golden furze.
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Ill she brooks to let it run,
Lest her task too soon be done:
All her thoughts wax sorrowful
Since her wool is nearly spun.
Lest her task too soon be done:
All her thoughts wax sorrowful
Since her wool is nearly spun.
Grieved she sees how few more strands
Bide for twisting; understands
Well her morrow's weary part,
Heavy heart and idle hands.
Bide for twisting; understands
Well her morrow's weary part,
Heavy heart and idle hands.
Raising then a sad grey head
From those meagre hanks of thread,
Lo, across her listless eyes
Sheer surprise of radiance shed.
From those meagre hanks of thread,
Lo, across her listless eyes
Sheer surprise of radiance shed.
For above the purple height
One vast cloud its burning white,
Through the moteless skies adrift,
Hangs uplift to steep in light.
One vast cloud its burning white,
Through the moteless skies adrift,
Hangs uplift to steep in light.
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Sheen as dawn-dewed lilies show
Doth the glistering fabric glow,
Blanched and bright in curve and crease,
Aye, a fleece of fire and snow.
Doth the glistering fabric glow,
Blanched and bright in curve and crease,
Aye, a fleece of fire and snow.
Long her look the splendour draws
That her spirit overawes,
Gazing up the crystal air,
While her careful sorrows pause.
That her spirit overawes,
Gazing up the crystal air,
While her careful sorrows pause.
Yet she feels their fret begin
As she turns her door within:
'Tis good luck were mine this eve
Had I leave the like to spin.
As she turns her door within:
'Tis good luck were mine this eve
Had I leave the like to spin.
Now may spells of slumber deft
Weave for her a magic weft,
All night through from memory steal
Empty wheel and hearth bereft:
Weave for her a magic weft,
All night through from memory steal
Empty wheel and hearth bereft:
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Reach to her no earthly gleam,
But such happy rays as beam
With a folding soft and deep,
Sleep on sleep and dream on dream.
But such happy rays as beam
With a folding soft and deep,
Sleep on sleep and dream on dream.
| The Mockers and other Verses | |