The clothes-line is a Rosary Of household help and care; Each little saint the Mother loves is represented there. And when across her garden plot She walks, with thoughtful heed, I should not wonder if she told Each garment for a bead. For Celia's scarlet stockings hang Beside Amelia's skirt, And Bilbo's breeches, which of late Were sadly smeared with dirt. You kerchief small wiped bitter tears For ill-success at school; This pinafore was torn in strife 'Twixt Fred and little Jule. And that device of finer web, And over-costly lace, Adorned our Eldest when she danced At some gay fashion place. A stranger passing, I salute The Household in its wear, And smile to think how near of kin Are love and toil and prayer. |