There was a little weaver long ago
Who wove her warp and weft upon the shore
Upon the other side a love long lost
The river was too deep for her to cross
Upon the seventh day, the seventh Moon
The little weaver stepped back from her loom
She ran to the river to meet her love
Where black and white birds circled up above
She saw him waiting on the other shore
So close to her, and yet so very far
There was no bridge, and she began to cry
She wished upon the stars that she could fly
The circling birds took notice of her prayer
And one by one they came down from the air
Row upon row, the black-white rustling wings
Over the river softly whispering
The moment she believed her blurry eyes
She ran upon light feet into the sky
Higher and ever higher did she ride
Over the bridge and down the other side
At last she and her lost love could be near
On feathered feet she flitted without fear
Across the sky she ran the narrow way
To meet the one she loved for just one day
She floated gently to the starry shore
And there she saw the man who she adored
Her heart was whole, her love no longer lost
Her stars fell from the sky no longer crossed
She ran into his arms and wept with joy
An endless love which time could not destroy
For still we tell the story of their love
Where the world turns on the wing of the dove