She sat and sewed that hath done me the wrong, Whereof I plain, and have done many a day; And whilst she heard my plaint in piteous song, Wished my heart the sampler as it lay. The blind master whom I have served so long, Grudging to hear that he did hear her say, Made her own weapon do her finger bleed, To feel if pricking were so good indeed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN INSINCERE WISH ADDRESSED TO A BEGGAR by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE FROST AT MIDNIGHT by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE VARIATIONS ON A THEME by ALFRED GOLDSWORTHY BAILEY A SCHOOL ECLOGUE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD RUSTIC CHILDHOOD by WILLIAM BARNES LINES WRITTEN ON WINDOWS OF THE GLOBE INN, DUMFRIES by ROBERT BURNS |