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THE SPINNER 107
May all that from your heart you gave,
Still blossom on your grave!
May God’s protecting mercy hold
Your spirit ever fresh and bold,—
May He to genius oft impart
Just such a mind and heart!
THE SPINNER
Ou, what was it he meant
By his question as he went?
“7 am making a loom,
*T will be up in April’s bloom;
If you think it may be,
Spin for me!”
Oh, what shall I believe?
Does he think himself to weave?
And the yarn that I spin,
Lo, he thinks to weave it in?
And so soon as the Spring
Flowers shall bring?
And he laughed when he’d done;
Oh, he is so full of fun.
Dare I trust all my skein
To so young and wild a swain?—
May God help to bind in
All I spin!
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