The muslin torn, from tears of grief
In vain Amelia sought relief;
In sighs and plaints she passed the day,
The tattered frock neglected lay:
While busied at the weaving trade,
A Spider heard the sighing maid,
And kindly stopping in a trice,
Thus offered (gratis) her advice:
"Turn, little girl, behold in me
A stimulus to industry;
Compare your woes my dear, with mine,
Then tell me who should most repine;
This morning, ere you'd left your room,
The chambermaid's relentless broom,
In one sad moment that destroyed
To build which thousands were employed.
The shock was great, but as my life
I saved in the relentless strife,
I knew lamenting was in vain,
So patient went to work again;
By constant work a day or more
My little mansion did restore.
And if each tear which you have shed
Had been a needleful of thread,
If every sigh of sad despair
Had been a stitch of proper care,
Closed would have been the luckless rent,
Nor thus the day have been misspent."