A Year's Spinning

He listened at the porch that day,

To hear the wheel go on, and on;

And then it stopped, ran back away,

While through the door he brought the sun:

But now my spinning is all done.

He sat beside me, with an oath

That love ne'er ended, once begun;

I smiled—believing for us both,

What was the truth for only one:

And now my spinning is all done.

My mother cursed me that I heard

A young man's wooing as I spun:

Thanks, cruel mother, for that word—

For I have, since, a harder known!

And now my spinning is all done.

I thought—O God!—my first-born's cry

Both voices to mine ear would drown:

I listened in mine agony—

It was the silence made me groan!

And now my spinning is all done.

Bury me 'twixt my mother's grave,

(Who cursed me on her death-bed lone)

And my dead baby's (God it save!)

Who, not to bless me, would not moan.

And now my spinning is all done.

A stone upon my heart and head,

But no name written on the stone!

Sweet neighbours, whisper low instead,

"This sinner was a loving one—

And now her spinning is all done."

And let the door ajar remain,

In case he should pass by anon;

And leave the wheel out very plain,—

That HE, when passing in the sun,

May see the spinning is all done.

He listened at the porch that day,

To hear the wheel go on, and on;

And then it stopped, ran back away,

While through the door he brought the sun:

But now my spinning is all done.

He sat beside me, with an oath

That love ne'er ended, once begun;

I smiled—believing for us both,

What was the truth for only one:

And now my spinning is all done.

My mother cursed me that I heard

A young man's wooing as I spun:

Thanks, cruel mother, for that word—

For I have, since, a harder known!

And now my spinning is all done.

I thought—O God!—my first-born's cry

Both voices to mine ear would drown:

I listened in mine agony—

It was the silence made me groan!

And now my spinning is all done.

Bury me 'twixt my mother's grave,

(Who cursed me on her death-bed lone)

And my dead baby's (God it save!)

Who, not to bless me, would not moan.

And now my spinning is all done.

A stone upon my heart and head,

But no name written on the stone!

Sweet neighbours, whisper low instead,

"This sinner was a loving one—

And now her spinning is all done."

And let the door ajar remain,

In case he should pass by anon;

And leave the wheel out very plain,—

That HE, when passing in the sun,

May see the spinning is all done.

1
He listened at the porch that day,
    To hear the wheel go on, and on;
And then it stopped, ran back away,
    While through the door he brought the sun:
    But now my spinning is all done.

2
He sat beside me, with an oath
    That love ne'er ended, once begun;
I smiled—believing for us both,
    What was the truth for only one:
    And now my spinning is all done.

3
My mother cursed me that I heard
    A young man's wooing as I spun:
Thanks, cruel mother, for that word—
    For I have, since, a harder known!
    And now my spinning is all done.

4
I thought—O God!—my first-born's cry
    Both voices to mine ear would drown:
I listened in mine agony—
    It was the silence made me groan!
    And now my spinning is all done.

5
Bury me 'twixt my mother's grave,
    (Who cursed me on her death-bed lone)
And my dead baby's (God it save!)
    Who, not to bless me, would not moan.
    And now my spinning is all done.

6
A stone upon my heart and head,
    But no name written on the stone!
Sweet neighbours, whisper low instead,
    "This sinner was a loving one—
    And now her spinning is all done."

7
And let the door ajar remain,
    In case he should pass by anon;
And leave the wheel out very plain,—
    That HE, when passing in the sun,
    May see the spinning is all done.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (born March 6, 1806, near Durham, Durham county, England—died June 29, 1861, Florence, Italy) English poet whose reputation rests chiefly upon her love poems, Sonnets from the Portuguese and Aurora Leigh, the latter now considered an early feminist text. Her husband was Robert Browning. Political and social themes embody Elizabeth’s later work. She expressed her intense sympathy for the struggle for the unification of Italy in Casa Guidi Windows (1848–51) and Poems Before Congress (1860). In 1857 Browning published her verse novel Aurora Leigh, which portrays male domination of a woman. In her poetry she also addressed the oppression of the Italians by the Austrians, the child labor mines and mills of England, and slavery, among other social injustices. Although this decreased her popularity, Elizabeth was heard and recognized around Europe. Elizabeth Barrett Browning died in Florence on June 29, 1861.

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