All yesterday I was spinning,
    Sitting alone in the sun;
And the dream that I spun was so lengthy,
    It lasted till day was done.

I heeded not cloud or shadow
    That flitted over the hill,
Or the humming-bees, or the swallows,
    Or the trickling of the rill.

I took the threads for my spinning,
    All of blue summer air,
And a flickering ray of sunlight
    Was woven in here and there.

The shadows grew longer and longer,
    The evening wind passed by,
And the purple splendour of sunset
    Was flooding the western sky.

But I could not leave my spinning,
    For so fair my dream had grown.
I heeded not, hour by hour,
    How the silent day had flown.

At last the grey shadows fell round me,
    And the night came dark and chill,
And I rose and ran down the valley,
    And left it all on the hill.

I went up the hill this morning
    To the place where my spinning lay—
There was nothing but glistening dewdrops
    Remained of my dream to-day.