Poem for a Washday
By Miranda Snow Walton
She could not write a poem, she said,
About the flowers and trees,
But on her washday line, I saw
Poems fluttering in the breeze.
She used such gay, embroidered words
That passers-by could tell
Her cottage was a shrine, with love
A daily ritual.
She told of happy hearts within
Whose care was her delight,
Of him who shared her every joy
Coming home at night.
And there were tiny, dainty words
That looked like fairy wings,
Soft, cuddly words for lullabies
A new-made mother sings.
Ah, no, she could not write a poem,
But on her washday line
I saw a poem of living joy
More beautiful than mine.
(1949)
Copied and send to our Relief Society newsletter. Thank you for this.
. . . with proper attribution, of course! As in: Keepapitchinin, the Mormon History Blog, at
https://keepapitchinin.org/2013/05/14/poem-for-a-washday (accessed May 14, 2013).
Then I’d better give full attribution for once: Relief Society Magazine, August 1949, 574.
(I do keep track of where transcribed pieces come from, so that if there is ever a reason to ask I can tell you.)
That’s lovely. I can’t imagine anyone would feel that way looking at my clothesline, but I have seen some in Lancaster County that were like art.
Ah. I sent the Keepa link, but now I’ll put the whole attribution. Thanks.