Mary quoth "Let all attend—
'Tis no time for song or play:
We must toil at weaving lace
Even to the close of day."
'Tis no time for song or play:
We must toil at weaving lace
Even to the close of day."
All the sky a pillow made
Smoothly folded for her knee,
Azure velvet, and the pins
Stars of purest crystal be.
Smoothly folded for her knee,
Azure velvet, and the pins
Stars of purest crystal be.
'Twas grave Luke the artist-saint,
Drew the patterns, tracing well,
Twining stems of amaranth,
Pointed leaves of asphodel.
Drew the patterns, tracing well,
Twining stems of amaranth,
Pointed leaves of asphodel.
In a circle sat the fair
Maidens all, and chanted low,
While beneath their fingers light,
Swift the shining web did grow.
Maidens all, and chanted low,
While beneath their fingers light,
Swift the shining web did grow.
Once the heedless Magdalen
Tore the dainty woof across—
Straightway with her golden hair
Did she mend the pattern's loss.
Tore the dainty woof across—
Straightway with her golden hair
Did she mend the pattern's loss.
Might the jewelled bobbins fall—
Jasper, sardonyx—why then,
Fleet the laughing cherubs ran,
Prompt to pick them up again.
Jasper, sardonyx—why then,
Fleet the laughing cherubs ran,
Prompt to pick them up again.
So they toiled till eventide,
And when every stitch was done,
Hung it where its beauty showed
Frail against the setting sun.
And when every stitch was done,
Hung it where its beauty showed
Frail against the setting sun.
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