Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

Work and Contemplation

The woman singeth at her spinning-wheel
A pleasant chant, ballad or barcarole;
She thinketh of her song, upon the whole,
Far more than of her flax; and yet the reel
Is full, and artfully her fingers feel
With quick adjustment, provident control,
The lines--too subtly twisted to unroll--
Out to a perfect thread. I hence appeal
To the dear Christian Church--that we may do
Our Father's business in these temples mirk,
Thus swift and steadfast, thus intent and strong;
While thus, apart from toil, our souls pursue
Some high calm spheric tune, and prove our work
The better for the sweetness of our song. 

1. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 20. Belovëd, my Belovëd, when I think
2. Sonnets from the portuguese. 31. Thou comest! all is said without a word
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 18. I never gave a lock of hair away
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 12. Indeed this very love which is my boast
5. A Year's Spinning

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