In “Late Hours,” Hazel Hall places us beside a seamstress still working as evening comes. Outside, crowds of people hurry home after their day’s labor, but her own work remains unfinished. She cannot join them or even watch them go for long; instead she listens to their footsteps and stays with her stitches. The mood is quiet and solitary, with a touch of loneliness but also calm acceptance. Her sewing becomes a way of seeing the whole night: stars glint like needles, the sky seems to be stitched, and the moon appears as a pearl button. By the end, the daytime world is folded away, but her hem is still not done. The speaker feels separate from the crowd, yet her patient work gives her a private, almost cosmic sense of purpose.
Late Hours — Summary
Crowds are passing on the street, Tuck on tuck and pleat on pleat Of people hurrying along, Homeward bound, throng on throng. Their work is finished, mine undone; Still my stitches run.
I cannot watch the people go, Fold on fold and row on row; But I know each pulsing tread Is spinning out a life's fine thread; I know the stars, like needle-gleams, Are pricking through the sky's wide seams ;
And soon the moon must show its face, Like a pearl button stitched in place. All the long hours of the day Are finished now and folded away; Yet the hem is still undone Where my stitches run.