Frances Cornford’s speaker watches a peasant woman sitting with sewing on her knees, waiting through every stage of a woman’s life. First she waits for a husband to claim her body, her work, and her presence. Then she waits for a hidden child to be born. Later she waits for that child, now grown and gone to the city, to come home. The repeated image of the sewing on her knees makes the waiting feel endless and quiet, as if her whole life is shaped by patience and service. In the final stanza, the waiting turns grim: her son will not return, and the only figure coming down the cobbled street is Death. The last line, stripped of any further purpose, leaves her still waiting. The mood is calm but deeply sad, mixing tenderness for her endurance with a sense of loss and inevitability.
A Peasant Woman — Summary
I saw you sit waiting with your sewing on your knees, Till a man should claim the comfort of your body And your industry and presence for his own.
I saw you sit waiting with your sewing on your knees, Till the child growing hidden in your body Should become a living creature in the light.
I saw you sit waiting with your sewing on your knees, Till your child who had ventured to the city Should return to the shelter of his home.
I saw you sit waiting with your sewing on your knees --Your unreturning son was in the city-- Till Death should come along the cobbled street.
I saw you sit waiting with your sewing on your knees.