The muslin torn, from tears of grief In vain Aurelia sought relief; In sighs and plaints she pass'd the day; The tatter'd frock neglected lay: While busied at the weaving trade, A spider heard the sighing maid And kindly stopping in a trice, Thus offer'd (gratis) her advice: "Turn, little girl! behold in me A stimulus to industry Compare your woes, my dear, with mine, Then tell me who should most repine: This morning, ere you left your room, The chambermaid's remorseless broom In one sad moment that destroy'd, To build which thousands were employ'd! The shock was great; but as my life I saved in the relentless strife, I knew lamenting was in vain, So patient went to work again. By constant work, a day or more, My little mansion did restore: And if each tear which you have shed Had been a needle-full of thread, If every sigh of sad despair Had been a stitch of proper care, Closed would have been the luckless rent, Nor thus the day have been misspent."