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Weaving The Web

Weaving The Web image
Parent Issue
Day
25
Month
October
Year
1878
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

"This moni I will weave my'web," she said. As he stood by her loom in the rosy light, And her young eyen, hopefully Riad and olear,'; Followed afar the'awalJow's flight. "As sooii as the day's first taska are done, While yet I am fresh and strong." sairt he, "I will basten to weave thc beautiful web Whose pattern is knowu to none but me. "I will wcavo it fino, I will weave it fair. And ah! how me colors will glow!" she said. "So fadeless and xtrong will I weave my web Tliat perhaps it will Uve after I am dead." But the morning honra sped on apare; The air grew sweet with the brrath of June; And youufí Iove, hid by the waiíiufí loom, Tangled the threads as he hummed a tune. '"Ah! Ufo is so rich and full," she cried, "And morn is short thoutíh the days are long! This noon I will weave my beautiful web; I will weave it rarefully. fine and strong." But the suii rose high in the eloudlcss sky; Tbc burden and heat of the day he Ijore; And hither and thither Bhe carne and went, While the loom stood atill as it stood beforo, "Ah ! life is too busy at noon," she said; "My web must wait till theeventide, TiU the oommon work of the day is done. And my heart grows calm in the silence wide!' So, one by one, the hours passed on 'J'ill thc ereepijig shadov had Inn-er prown; Till the house was till. and the broezen slept, And her inging birds to their nests had flown. "And now I will weave my web," she said, As she turued to her loom ere set of sun, And laid her hand on the nHning threads To eet tkem iu order, one by one. But hand waa tired, and heart was weah ; "I ara not stron? as I was," si;,'hed she, "And thc pattern is blurred. and tlie colors raro Are not so bright, or so fair to soe! "I must wait, I think, till auother morn; I must po to my rest with my work undone; It is growing too dark to weave I1" she cried, As lower and lower Bank the sun. She droppcd the sliuttlo; tlio loom stood still; The weaver slept in the twilight gray. Dear heart. Will she weave her beautiful web In the golden light of a íonger day'

Article

Subjects
Old News
Michigan Argus