CLICK, click! how the needles go <br />Through the busy fingers, to and fro-- <br />With no bright colors of berlin wool, <br />Delicate hands today are full: <br />Only a yarn of deep, dull blue, <br />Socks for the feet of the brave and true. <br />Yet click, click, how the needles go, <br />'Tis a power within that nerves them so. <br />In the sunny hours of the bright spring day, <br />And still in the night time far away. <br />Maiden, mother, grandame sit <br />Earnest and thoughtful while they knit. <br />Many the silent prayers they pray, <br />Many the tear drops brushed away. <br />While busy on the needles go, <br />Widen and narrow, heel and toe. <br />The grandame thinks with a thrill of pride <br />How her mother knit and spun beside <br />For that patriot band in olden days <br />Who died the Stars and Stripes to raise-- <br />Now she in turn knits for the brave <br />Who'd die that glorious flag to save. <br />She is glad, she says, ''the boys' have gone, <br />'Tis just as their grandfathers would have done. <br />But she heaves a sigh and the tears will start, <br />For 'the boys' were the pride of grandame's heart. <br />The mother's look is calm and high, <br />God only hears her soul's deep cry-- <br />In Freedom's name, at Freedom's call, <br />She gave her sons--in them her all. <br />The maiden's cheek wears a paler shade. <br />But the light in her eyes is undismayed. <br />Faith and hope give strength to her sight, <br />She sees a red dawn after the night. <br />Oh, soldiers brave, will it brighten the day, <br />And shorten the march on the weary way, <br />To know that at home the loving and true <br />Are knitting and hoping and praying for your <br />Soft are the voices when speaking your name, <br />Proud are their glories when hearing your fame. <br />And the gladdest hour in their lives will be <br />When they greet you after the victory.<br /><br />Anonymous Americas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/knitting-socks/
