Explore "To a Patchwork Quilt" by Ruth Collie on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Who made you? Was she old or young? Were her fingers white and soft / and slim? And the song that was sung (as she worked) a love song or / a hymn? You think, old quilt, in vain I probe and ask? But like a / mirror you reflect it all. For I can see her at her homely task, / sweet-faced and comely, fair and queenly tall. And there were / toddlers pressed against her knee, their rosy fingers petting each / bright hue. One trilled, "That pretty scarlet piece is meant for / me. " Another, "May I have this lovely blue? " How clear it is she / loved all outdoor things. So many shades of sky she's brought / together; touches of crimson seen on blackbirds' wings; the greens of / trees; soft greys of rainy weather. And here is mauve, a wistful, / gentle shade, when she felt weary and a little sad. Ah, me! This / brown is serious and staid, but yellow smiles and proves that she / grew glad. But when she reached the borders then, I think, she chose / the blue to match a midnight sky, and silver snippets for the stars / that wink; and, as she stitched, she sang a lullaby.