DOLLY sits a-quilting by her mother, stich by stitch, Gracious, how my pulses throb, how my fingers itch, While I note her dainty waist and her slender hand, As she matches this and that, she stitches strand by strand. And I long to tell her Life's a quilt and I'm a patch; Love will do the stitching if she'll only be my match. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET TO HIS FRIEND R.L. IN PRAISE OF MUSIQUE AND POETRIE by RICHARD BARNFIELD DREAM SONG: 1 by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ON THE DEATH OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN by PHILIP FRENEAU THE MOURNING GARMENT: THE DESCRIPTION OF THE SHEPHERD AND HIS WIFE by ROBERT GREENE LEXINGTON [APRIL 19, 1775] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES TO THE VERS LIBRIST WHO USES ONLY THE MINOR KEY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |