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Edgar Guest - To A Lady Knitting
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Little woman, hourly sitting,
    Something for a soldier knitting,
    What in fancy can you see?
    Many pictures come to me
    Through the stitch that now you`re making:
    I behold a bullet breaking;
    I can see some soldier lying
    In that garment slowly dying,
    And that very bit of thread
    In your fingers, turns to red.
    Gray to-day; perhaps to-morrow
    Crimsoned by the blood of sorrow.

    It may be some hero daring
    Shall that very thing be wearing
    When he ventures forth to give
    Life that other men may live.
    He may braver wield the saber
    As a tribute to your labor,
    And for that, which you have knitted,
    Better for his task be fitted.
    When the thread has left your finger,
    Something of yourself may linger,
    Something of your lovely beauty
    May sustain him in his duty.

    Some one`s boy that was a baby
    Soon shall wear it, and it may be
    He will write and tell his mother
    Of the kindness of another,
    And her spirit shall caress you,
    And her prayers at night shall bless you.
    You may never know its story,
    Cannot know the grief or glory
    That are destined now and hover
    Over him your wool shall cover,
    Nor what spirit shall invade it
    Once your gentle hands have made it.

    Little woman, hourly sitting,
    Something for a soldier knitting,
    `Tis no common garb you`re making,
    These, no common pains you`re taking.
    Something lovely, holy, lingers
    O`er the needles in your fingers
    And with every stitch you`re weaving
    Something of yourself you`re leaving.
    From your gentle hands and tender
    There may come a nation`s splendor,
    And from this, your simple duty,
    Life may win a fairer beauty.
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