Song for the Spinning-wheel

Swiftly turn the murmuring wheel!

 Night has brought the welcome hour,

When the weary fingers feel

 Help, as if from faery power;

Dewy night o'ershades the ground,

Turn the swift wheel round and round!

Now, beneath the starry sky,

 Couch the widely-scattered sheep;

Ply the pleasant labour, ply!

 For the spindle, while they sleep,

Runs with speed more smooth and fine,

Gathering up a trustier line.

Short-lived likings may be bred

 By a glance from fickle eyes;

But true love is like the thread

 Which the kindly wool supplies,

When the flocks are all at rest,

Sleeping on the mountain's breast.