One thought of ivory and precious lace And lilac blossoms as one looked at her, So delicately lovely her aged face, So slim and fine the artist hands that were Displaying rare pieced coverlets, each one A miracle of craftsmanship and art, Designed it seemed from patterns fairy-spun To ease the ache for beauty in her heart. They had been pieced in years when she had bowed To grim Necessity and left a hound To guard her precious babes the while she plowed And they sat watching while she made each round. After those long hard days, when tasks were done And wee ones sleeping, she had wrought with fine Close stitches, blossom, blazing star, and sun, Feasting her soul on color and design. The great world listens as a famed violin Lifts its clear voice; it watches sunlight flow From the deft brush of one who watched his slim Young mother guide the oxen long ago. And they are sons of her who learned to blend The rainbow in the watches of the night, Who fed her spirit's hunger at day's end And worshiped beauty by a candle's light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLACES 1. TWILIGHT (TUCSON) by SARA TEASDALE AN ANATOMY OF THE WORLD: THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY by JOHN DONNE WHITE HEAD by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN MOVE UPWARD by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE GODODDIN: THE DEATH OF HOEL by ANEIRIN THE INGOLDSBY PENANCE!; A LEGEND OF PALESTINE AND -- WEST KENT by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |