I stole out to rest in the woodlands,
And I saw long silvery threads
Floating in breeze and sunshine
From branch to branch overhead.
Endless they streamed toward the hilltops
A sign of fair weather, I knew,
For the spinners who spin in the day-time
Belong to the ranks of the few,
Who work to send hope and gladness
To those who are weary and worn,
And sound again the glad tidings, —
Once more a Messiah is born.
Spin, spin, ye vigilant toilers;
Dart out your radiant gleams;
Let love, liberation and knowledges
Go forth on the morning's first beams;
Loyalty winds from the mountains
Her triumphant clarion call;
All over the earth hear the echo,
Brotherhood, Brotherhood, all.