The speaker pictures herself as someone who cuts patterns, the templates people use to shape art and life. She is restless because the available designs feel worn out: love, death, war, politics, and religion have all been used so long that they seem stale or even false. Even love has to be cut carefully to keep two people close yet separate. A pretty piece of silk and lace catches her eye, but beneath it she finds only an old, wrinkled face, suggesting that charming surfaces can hide tired material. Still, the poem is not gloomy. She holds on to a belief in laughter, warmth, and beauty, and she wants to leave the old shops behind. Instead of following old fashions, she dreams of cutting a pattern from wind and basting it with dew. The mood is wistful, hopeful, and full of longing for fresh inspiration.
I Who Cut Patterns — Summary
I who cut patterns, As every soul must do, Fret myself with longing For themes that are new.
All these fashions Were moulded years gone by, And, like the mask of politics, Are coloured with a lie.
Even the treasured love motif, This thing of you and me, It must so carefully be cut To keep us bound, yet free.
And death, the sombre casket Of centuries of song, And war, and rivalries and creeds, These we have used too long.
To-day I found a charming thing Of silk and golden lace, And yet, beneath the filigree, What an old, wrinkled face!
Still, I believe in legends Of laughter and delight, And words all coloured with the sun And perfumed by the night.
And I've a mind to leave the shops And fashions old and new, And cut my pattern from a wind, And baste it up with dew.
I who cut patterns, As every soul must do, Fret myself with longing For themes that are new.