Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE WEAVER, by CAROLINE SPARKS

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THE WEAVER, by            
First Line: Bowed low on his ancient loom
Last Line: Too soon the weaver's work is done.
Subject(s): Weavers And Weaving

Bowed low, on his ancient loom
The aged weaver sees in fancy:
Past centuries sheathed in gloom
Changed to radiant ecstasy.
Dreaming, he weaves each thread
Into reality while twilight fades,
And midnight's treacherous tread
Challenges passing years, past decades.
Picturing the lives of nobler men,
Whose vision shaped our destiny,
He chooses white to tell of them,
Ere he chances dark clouds' mystery.
Groping for colors of somber hue,
He mingles crimson, black and gray,
Depicting wars: crosses wet with dew.
Memory stirred, the weaver turns away
And carefully chooses brighter tones --
To tell of peace -- the stars and stripes.
To world unrest, carefree life, homes,
A warning in dangerous red he writes.
Beyond this chaos the weaver sees
New genius out of turmoil born
To lift the world, to span the seas.
With hope in solid color 'tis shown:
Man-made wings in blue -- sky-blue --
A single row the ocean shade.
The weaver knows his dream is through.
In colors, next, the border is made --
Gay yellow, deep purple and golden brown.
Alas! He weaves the end too soon:
Dark clouds again dim the horizon.
Night is robbed of stars and moon.
Blindly the weaver finds the hue.
It must be done in crimson now --
The suffering -- crosses wet with dew.
Wearily the dreamer makes his final bow:
Tomorrow! Will it end in peace?
Tomorrow! Will the mist be gone?
Lo, the sun is rising in the east --
Too soon the weaver's work is done.

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