I waited long until the sky
Should give me of its blue
To weave and wear, and share, and weave
The very stars into.
The days they went, the years they went,
And left my hands instead
Another thing for wonderment,
—The mending, and the bread.
Ah me, and one must set a hand
To burnish up the task,
And hush and hush the old demand
A wakeful heart will ask.
But with a star’s clear eye on me,
O, I can hear it said,
‘What souls there be, that only see
The mending, and the bread!’