Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE COBBLER IN THE MOON, by WINIFRED VIRGINIA JACKSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE COBBLER IN THE MOON, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Cobbler, cease your stitching
Last Line: And softly cry!
Subject(s): Cobblers


I

Cobbler, cease your stitching!
Put down your awl!
I've long been waiting
Before your stall.

Cobbler, cease your pegging!
Who pays your wage?
And whose the ugly,
Dry shoes of Age?

I have shoes for mending;
A patch or two
Will make them nearly
As good as new.

Mine too worn for patching?
It cannot be
The shoes just finished
Were made for me?

II

Time went dancing down the road
Yesterday;
It was sweet to watch Time dance
On her way.

Not one sigh was in my heart!
How could I
Know that when to-morrow came
I should cry?

III

Joy came winging down to me,
A brown, song-throated bird,
But on a honeyed tree's dark branch
A scarlet note was heard.

Joy was singing, soft and low,
A tender little lay,
But, oh, my ears were deafened by
The scarlet note that day!

IV

Once I cried a little cry,
Nor wiped the tears away;
And bitter was the taste of them
The long, long day.

Oh, but that was long ago!
To-day I sit apart
And smile and watch young laughter run
About my heart!

V

I cannot bear to hear the grasses sing!
Their tiny fingers press the notes of grief
Where apple blossoms pinkly sway and swing
And nod to each uncurling, greening leaf.

I cannot bear to hear the grasses sing!
Nor watch them tiptoe on the sun-sweet ground,
For, oh, I know how their small hands will cling
Upon the earth that is my body's mound!

VI

If I am quiet, when the twilight comes,
My dead love I will see;
Like breathless whisper in a lilac bloom
My love will come to me.

If I am quiet, all the lapis night,
My love will be my guest;
But, oh, that she may never touch my hand
Nor lean against my breast!

VII

My feet are shod in golden shoes,
That glimmer in the sun,
With lacings made of sweet delight
And laughter's fun.

The soles so studded are with nails
That press up, prick and pry,
I can but sit still in a chair
And softly cry!





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