Two sat down in the morning time,
      One to sing and one to spin.
   All men listened the song sublime---
      But no one listened the dull wheel's din.

   The singer sat in a pleasant nook,
      And sang of a life that was fair and sweet,
   While the spinner sat with a steadfast look
      Busily plying her hands and feet.

   The singer sang on with a rose in her hair,
      And all men listened her dulcet tone;
   And the spinner spun on with a dull despair
      Down in her heart as she sat alone.

   But lo! on the morrow no one said
      Aught of the singer or what she sang,
   Men were saying: "Behold this thread,"
      And loud the praise of the spinner rang.

   The world has forgotten the singer's name---
      Her rose is faded, her songs are old;
   But far o'er the ocean the spinner's fame
      Yet is blazoned in lines of gold.

Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917.

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