The gossamers swing in the summer light
From leaflets all covered with dew;
The pearl drops gleam with their fairy spells
In crimson and golden hue.

The threads fly fast in the fact'ry high,
Weaving the fabric rare,
To gladden the cottager's sunburnt child,
Or brighten the lady fair.

The whirring wheels whirl round and round,
As in the rope-walk low
The hempen strands weave mighty bands,
While the spinners backward go.

So love weaves sure from day to day
A sweet and shadowy chain;
Its gossamer links are small and thin
For bearing the world's cold strain.

Though light as air that woven chain
Each thread is tried and true;
Old Time is strength'ning the tiny cords,
And drawing my love to you.