On St. Crispin's Day by Ruth Collie

I'd love to be a shoemaker on this Saint Crispin's Day. I'd pray him / for some leather that the angels gave away. (For they used to give / him leather, so all the legends say.) Softest leather from the / angels! Each piece of finest grain, well tanned by golden sunbeams, / kept moist by sister rain. The loveliest bits of leather, ne'er / bought nor sold for gain. Bright bits supplied by angels! And some / would be sky-blue and some of pearly greyness with dawn's pinkness / blushing through. And some would be rich crimson, like a sunset bold / and new. And I'd take Saint Crispin's leather that the angels had / let fall and fashion shoes a-plenty for dimpled feet and small, / whilst Saint Crispin stood beside me and blessed my last and awl!