On a clear April morning, a maid named Ellen hangs the household linen outside to dry. The speaker watches as lace and white embroidery lie over boxwood and grass, and the ordinary chore suddenly seems timeless—Ellen could be a Greek girl from an old book, doing the same simple work in the same spring light. The wet white cloth flaps in the breeze, and a tune comes into her head, filling the quiet house with sound. Blue irises stand by the boxwood and the kitchen stair. Ellen moves between them, her hair blowing loose across the wind. The speaker clearly admires her, seeing her as slender and lovely as the flowers. The mood is bright, calm, and gently reverent, turning everyday housework into something beautiful and almost mythic.
Ellen Hanging Clothes — Summary
The maid is out in the clear April light Our store of linen hanging up to dry; On clump of box, on the small grass there lie Bits of thin lace, and broidery blossom-white. And something makes tall Ellen — gesture, look — Or else but that most ancient, simple thing, Hanging the clothes upon a day in spring, A Greek girl cut out some old lovely book. The wet white flaps ; a tune just come in mind, The sound brims the still house. Our flags are out, Blue by the box, blue by the kitchen stair; Betwixt the two she trips across the wind, Her warm hair blown all cloudy-wise about, Slim as the flags, and every whit as fair.