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. 12. Indeed this very love which is my boast
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 11. And therefore if to love can be desert
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 30. I see thine image through my tears to-night
5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 35. If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange

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