Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MY MENDING BASKET, by BESSIE CHANDLER

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MY MENDING BASKET, by            
First Line: It is made of the stoutest of willow
Last Line: When the baby upset it, last year!
Subject(s): Mothers

IT is made of the stoutest of willow;
It is deep and capacious and wide;
Yet the Gulf Stream that flows through its borders
Seems always to stand at flood-tide!

And the garments lie heaped on each other:
I look at them often and sigh;
Shall I ever be able to grapple
With a pile that has grown two feet high?

There's a top-layer, always, of stockings;
These arrive and depart every day;
And the things that are playing "button-button"
Also leave without any delay.

But oh, underneath there are strata
Buried deep as the earth's eocene!
Things put there the first of the autumn,
Still there when the trees have grown green.

There are things to be ripped and made over;
There are things that gave out in their prime;
There are intricate tasks--all awaiting
One magical hour of "spare time."

Will it come? Shall I ever possess it?
I start with fresh hope every day.
Like a will-o-the wisp it allures me;
Like a will-o-the-wisp fades away.

For the basket has never been empty,
During all of its burdened career,
But for once, for a few fleeting moments,
When the baby upset it, last year!

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