The White Ladye

“The flax upon your distaff Is yellow as your hair, But why, on Christmas even, Thus spin you, maiden fair? “The joy-bells in the steeples Are ringing clear and wide; O stop the whirring spindle, And put the flax aside!” “Nay, but I may not, master, Although I weary be, Lest through the open shutter Should peer the White Ladye; “And find my treadle idle, My flax in tangled fold, And on the merry morrow Forget her gift of gold. “For to the slothful virgin She causeth sorrowing, But to the thrifty maiden A blessing she doth bring!” A soft touch at the shutter,— A face divine to see! It is the fairy spinner, It is the White Ladye!