Chapter 51 No.51

She held the spindle as she sat,

Errina with the thick-coiled mat

Of raven hair and deepest agate eyes,

Gazing with a sad surprise

At surging visions of her destiny-

To spin the byssus drearily

In insect-labor, while the throng

Of gods and men wrought deeds that poets wrought in song.

When Deronda presented himself at the do