HG (1986 / Wisconsin)

Indian Weavers

WEAVERS, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.

Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . .
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.

Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . .
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.

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Comments (1)

Many parents do not own any shining army and some... wonder why. Very difficult for you now, as there will not be any apologies. But please remember that some never knew how to express their love. Thank you for these moving words