To My Spinning-Wheel
Trifles (Dublin: privately published, 1823): 16-17.
1I love thee well my little wheel,
2And why I love thee I can tell:
4Of feeling griefs, and feigning joys,
5Of visiting, and company,
6And all that's called society,
7I sought in solitude and peace,
8To sooth a mind too ill at ease,
9Thou kindly then thy aid didst lend,
10I found in thee almost a friend.
11Thou better may'st the title claim,
12Than many who usurp the name,
13Since thou instruction can'st impart,
14"And point a moral to the heart."
15For who in turning thee can fail
16To think on fickle Fortune's wheel,
18That on which hangs the life of man,
19Now firm as tho' it ne'er would sever,
20Now in an instant snapt for ever.
21My little wheel, I love thy sound,
22Thy humming as I turn thee round
23To me is almost melody,
24Inviting still to reverie;
25And sometimes, when thought steals on me,
26And heedless of myself or thee,
27My mind at large to scenes will fly,
28That prompt the smile, or swell the sigh,
29Well pleas'd I find tho' thought may roam,
30My busy fingers were at home.
31I said I lov'd thee little wheel,
32And I shall love thee more I feel,
33If lengthen'd life shall be my fate,
34Each day we'll be more intimate,
35And when old age each pulse shall still,
36Reflective then I'll turn my wheel,
37My wayward heart the throb shall cease
38That panted after more than peace,
39And the last hours I spend with thee
40Be sacred to -- Tranquillity.
RPO poem Editors: