My Chinese rug means poignant joy to me, I watch its colors blend, in ecstasy. What heathen goddess from her throne on high, Snatched wondrous colors from the evening sky And gave to man to weave? ... What magic art Can blend emotions of the human heart And show them forth in color? ... Mute, I trace Through all its beauty, the genius of a race. I learned the secret of my rug today. No heathen goddess at its birth held sway, But little Chinese children, spent and wan, In bleak, infected room from early dawn Till late at night work steadily ... They sit Before the loom, with faces never lit With joy of childhood's years; yet, frail and sad They give the rug the life they never had. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO ATLANTA UNIVERSITY - ITS FOUNDERS AND TEACHERS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EPITAPH ON A HARE by WILLIAM COWPER BY THE ALMA RIVER by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK LONGFELLOW by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY THE BROOK: AUTUMN by LAURA ABELL THE BLUE BIRD by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA A SONG FOR THE SINGLE TABLE ON NEW YEAR'S DAY by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST |