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Hazel Hall
Restless needle, where my beads
Whip with colour, roll like seeds.
Dive, and pick up one and one.
One and one till we are done;
And fasten each one firm and true
Where the pattern tells you to —
One and one, and one and one.
One and one, and one and one —
Flying needle, as you run.
As you pick up the lobes of light
Mind you guide each sparkle right;
Mind this tawny brown you choose,
Shading it with light wood hues,
When you shape the curving rim
Of this great basket, on whose brim
Heap the designated green.
Good-bye dear day of sunshine, rain
In flooding torrents pours
Its liquid footsteps on my roof,
Its fingers on my doors.
While I sit tranquilly within
And tell my beads of joy,
Holding a peace within my heart
Which nothing can destroy.
Time was, when I recalled your words, your looks, your deeds.
As a rapt nun counts over her blest beads;
Then was my mind so filled with memory
Love had no room to work his change in me,
And I was faithless from my faith's continuance,
Since being changeless I gave no obedience.
I have forgotten you, for these long days,
All unsustained by you I went my ways,
Now at the end I take you back to thought
To find my action was the thing you taught.
And so in faithlessness is faith's continuance.
Since in a change I do you all obedience.