Explore "The String Bag" by Ruth Collie on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A task to irritate a saint -- unravelling string of every length! / Before all's done, perhaps I'll faint; it's such a tax upon one's / strength. This piece seems boastful of its knot, as if it knows it / hurt my nails. Dear me! This bag does hold a lot; my courage flags / and fails. But, after all -- it's rather fun. Suppose this string is / but a street. Ah! now my journey's well begun; each knot a mountain / at my feet. Till these be scaled, I can't progress. I clench my / teeth and work away, beyond this knot lies happiness, and I must pass / while yet 'tis day. Another piece leads to a hill where fairy folk / in tree trunks dwell. I'll blaze this trail with right good will, / and live among them for a spell. So swift my fingers work, and fast / (imagination's on the wing! ) and all my troubles fade at last -- for / life is like a knotted string!