A Picture Post-1




Alone in her chamber,
Sitting by her wheel,
She made some yarn
From some cotton.

Pulling one string
Entangling with the other,
She tailored me dresses,
For the balls I did not give a care;
Knit me mittens,
For the chipped fingers that hurt;
Made me sweaters,
For the chilly cold winters.

She weaved me a cocoon of love,
And a haven of warmth.
She weaved me happy good nights,
And sleepy sweet dreams.






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