She sat and sewed that hath done me the wrong, Whereof I plain, and have done many a day; And whilst she heard my plaint in piteous song, Wished my heart the sampler as it lay. The blind master whom I have served so long, Grudging to hear that he did hear her say, Made her own weapon do her finger bleed, To feel if pricking were so good indeed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ITINERANT POET'S ROAD SONG by KAREN SWENSON BATTLE HYMN OF THE RUSSIAN REPUBLIC by LOUIS UNTERMEYER A MAN TO A WOMAN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS CASSANDRA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE DISCOVERY; SONNET by JOHN COLLINGS SQUIRE RECOMPENSE by JESSE M. BALL ALLEN |