When mother's sewing buttons on <br />Their little garments, one by one, <br />I settle down contented there <br />And watch her in her rocking chair. <br />She's at the task she likes the best <br />Each little waist and undervest <br />She fondles in a mother's way, <br />And notes each sign of sturdy play <br />And shakes her head and says to me: <br />'I wonder how this came to be?' <br /> <br />There's something in her patient eyes, <br />As in and out her needle flies, <br />Which seems to tell the joy she takes <br />In every little stitch she makes. <br />An hour of peace has settled down; <br />Hushed is the clamor of the town; <br />And even I am different then, <br />For I forsake the ways of men <br />And see about the garments there <br />Bright visions of a happy pair. <br /> <br />Buttons are closely linked to joy. <br />Each little girl and little boy <br />Who dares to climb the garden fence <br />Buys that delight at their expense; <br />Buttons are childhood's tattle tales <br />Swifter than telegrams or mails <br />They fly to tell of moments glad <br />That little boys and girls have had; <br />And mother reads the stories there <br />From every vacant space and tear. <br /> <br />She sweetly smiles and says to me: <br />'How sturdy they have grown to be! <br />It keeps me busy to repair <br />The shirts and things they have to wear.' <br />I chuckle as I watch her sew, <br />For joy has set the room aglow, <br />And in the picture I can see <br />The strength which means so much to me. <br />The scene is good to look upon <br />When mother's sewing buttons on.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-mother-s-sewing-buttons-on/
