Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The Spinner

As I calmly sat and span, Toiling with all zeal, Lo! a young and handsome man Pass'd my spinning-wheel. And he praised,—what harm was there? — Sweet the things he said— Praised my flax-resembling hair, And the even thread. He with this was not content, But must needs do more; And in twain the thread was rent, Though 'twas safe before. And the flax's stonelike weight Needed to be told; But no longer was its state Valued as of old. When I took it to the weaver, Something felt I start, And more quickly, as with fever, Throbb'd my trembling heart. Then I bear the thread at length Through the heat, to bleach; But, alas, I scarce have strength To the pool to reach. What I in my little room Span so fine and slight,— As was likely. I presume— Came at last to light.