Classic Poem

" I am learning the stitch, " the lover said
As over her work he bent his head.
But the scene spake plain to the mother's eye
" I am watching these busy fingers ply. "
And ever anon when a stitch she'd miss,
'Twas because he bent lower her hand to kiss.
Oh tender lover, and busy maid,
May the sweet enchantment never fade;
Nor the thread of life, though a stitch may miss,
Know a break that may not be joined by a kiss.