THE SPINNING GIRL.
“What are you spinning, my sister, day by day,
That your tears fall on the soft flax in this way?”
“My tears they fall with grief, o’er my love’s short dream!
What I spin? Why my wedding garment I ween.”
“What spin you at night that no dreams make you doze,
When no wedding you’ll have, sister mine, these days?”
“No bridal I’ll have, but my lover will wed,
To his wedding I’ll go in white dress, I have said.”
“What spin you in haste, by the moon’s pale ray?
Does your lover haste to the altar, I say?”
“I must hasten, my brother, the time is near—
In my shroud I am spinning the moonlight drear.”
The bells are tolling reproachfully and slow—
To her grave they bear the spinner, lying low.
Why are the bells pealing, so gladsome and clear,
For a wedding they ring, with their noisy cheer.
But at night when the lovers are kissing sweet,
At midnight the dead rise in their winding sheet.
“My bride, oh, who is it, that comes to us see?”
“’Tis the moon—there is no one but you and me.”
