1
He listened at the porch that day,
To hear the wheel go on, and on;
And then it stopped, ran back away,
While through the door he brought the sun:
But now my spinning is all done.
2
He sat beside me, with an oath
That love ne'er ended, once begun;
I smiled--believing for us both,
What was the truth for only one:
And now my spinning is all done.
3
My mother cursed me that I heard
A young man's wooing as I spun:
Thanks, cruel mother, for that word--
For I have, since, a harder known!
And now my spinning is all done.
4
I thought--O God!--my first-born's cry
Both voices to mine ear would drown:
I listened in mine agony--
It was the silence made me groan!
And now my spinning is all done.
5
Bury me 'twixt my mother's grave,
(Who cursed me on her death-bed lone)
And my dead baby's (God it save!)
Who, not to bless me, would not moan.
And now my spinning is all done.
6
A stone upon my heart and head,
But no name written on the stone!
Sweet neighbours, whisper low instead,
"This sinner was a loving one--
And now her spinning is all done."
7
And let the door ajar remain,
In case he should pass by anon;
And leave the wheel out very plain,--
That HE, when passing in the sun,
May see the spinning is all done.
This poem took me to the other world for moments. I think this is the feature of ART, Excellent.
I really loved this poem! Especially the last two verses. Beautifully composed!
Though Elizabeth Barrett Browning is no more yet her poems are with us. I convey to her soul thanks and congratulations for being selected this poem as the poem of the day.
A wonderful poem so beautifully crafted and well executed.
Magnificent. The repetition deepened the impact of the words. The story did not whine but it made my heart weep for the impact of one choice on the rest of a person's life, for the unkindness of our communities who should be holding its members up. I do not understand the low score given to this piece of art.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Who is referred to in the line: Who, not to bless me, would not moan.? The protagonist would fit into the Hollywood scene today.