A Mother’s Day Poem
For the knitting and crocheting moms:
By Edgar A. Guest
I like to watch those wondrous bits
Which nightly mother sits and knits
And wonder, sometimes, where they’ll go
When into usefulness they grow
Or guess what now I cannot see,
What this affair is meant to be.
Half-drowsy pondering my book,
At her across the room I look
And as her fingers deftly ply
I think; ‘tis love at work I spy.
‘Tis friendship struggling to express
Itself in bits of loveliness!
That tiny robe will soon be worn
By someone’s babe, as yet unborn!
Aha, she knows of someone old
Who would enjoy an afghan’s fold!
Now from her fingers, row by row,
Mittens for lovely maidens grow!
Night after night across my book
I’ve seen her needles bright or hook
Move in and out with tender care
Producing pretty things to wear.
Which merely proves anew to me
That always busy love must be.
Happy Mother’s Day!!