Would mortal eyes had less of skill to see Imperfect threads which mar the finest cloth -- A knot -- a rupture which betrays the moth -- The faded spot where colors disagree. Are kindly words not often due from me? Right well I know, if workers keep their troth, Such marks will disappear -- as ocean's froth. The final Judge will give no harsh decree. And when at last the garment has been made, If every stitch is not a perfect one, The Great Designer's love will overlook The awkward tricks the fragile needle played; Remembering what faithful work was done -- Appreciating all the care we took. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER by GEORGE GORDON BYRON FIRST BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 11 by THOMAS CAMPION TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: ROBERT OF SICILY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW WHITE FOR MOURNING by AL-FATA AL-KAFIF FIRST CYCLE OF LOVE POEMS: 3 by GEORGE BARKER THE VIAL by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |