FOUNDED UPON A BELIEF PREVALENT AMONG THE PASTORAL VALES OF
WESTMORELAND.
Swiftly turn the murmuring wheel!
Night has brought the welcome hour,
When the weary fingers feel
Help as if from fairy power;
Dewy night o’ershades the ground,
Turn the swift wheel round and round.
Now beneath the starry sky
Rest the widely-scattered sheep;
Ply the pleasant labor, ply,
For the spindle, while they sleep,
With a motion smooth and fine,
Gathers up a trustier line.
Short-lived likings may be bred
By a glance of feeble eyes;
But true love is like the thread
Which the kindly wool supplies,
When the flocks are all at rest,
Sleeping on the mountain’s breast.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.