Press enter after choosing selection

Weaving The Web

Weaving The Web image
Parent Issue
Day
4
Month
June
Year
1880
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

"Thls mam I will wmví mjr web," sho said, As sho stuod by ber loom in thc rosy Ugtat, Au I her young oy, taoiefu11y glad an I cloar, Followed ufar the swallmv's fllgtat. "Ae soon as the dav's ürst UMkj ave dono, While yet I ara fresh and itroug." saiíl sn0 "I will basten to wcave the bcantiful web Wbose pattern is known to nono but me. "I will weave t fine, I will weave ít fair, And ali! how thecolors will glow!" she said, "So fadcless aml strong will I weave my web ThaL porluips it will live aí'Lcr I am dead " But the mörnlug hours spod on a pace; The air grew swect wlth the bveath of June; And young I ove, hld by tho waitiiig loom, TaDfflod the threaiU as he humnic I a tune. "Ah! lile La so ric.h and full," she cried, Anti morn is short though the dnys are lonl Thia noen I will weave my beautiful web, I wi.l weavc it carcfully, line, and strong." But the sun rose high in the cloudless sky; The burden and heat of the day ahc bore; And lüUierand thither shc carne and went, While the loom stood still as it stood bei'ure. "Ah! lile is too bny at noon," she said; "My web must wait till the aventlde, Till the common work of the day is done. And my hcarl grows calm iu the silence wide!" So onc by onc, the hours pasSAd on, Till the cree ping ihadowi hfld longergrown; Till the house was slill, an! the breezes slept, And her singing Lh'ds to their nests had flown. "And now I will wo.lve my web," she said, As alie turnad to her loom ere set of snn. And laid her hand on thc btilnlng threada To set them in order, one by mie. Bul hand was tired, and henrt was wcak: "I am not as strong as I was," sighed she, "And the pattern is blurred, autl the colors nvve Are not so bright or so fair to sec! "I must wait, I think, till another morn; I must pro lo my rest with my work undone; It is growing too dark to weave!" she cried, As lowerand lower sank tho sun. She dropped thc shuttle; the loom stood still; The weaver slept in the twilight gray. Tearhcart. Will she weave her beautiful web In the golden light of a longer day ?

Article

Subjects
Old News
Ann Arbor Argus