SUNNING QUILTS
BY
EFFIE SMITH ELY

Out from their scented chests I draw
And hang my bright quilts in the sun,
Fashioned by deft and patient hands
Whose work-days now are done.

This Irish Chain in vivid rose
Was Great-Aunt Phoebe's hope and pride
Dear little girl, who died too young
To be a happy bride.

These colors, with fair stitches joined
to form a bold True-Lovers' Knot,
Were lame Aunt Miriam's--in their glow
Her dull days she forgot.

My strong grandmother, unto whom
Life brought most bitter grief and smart,
Piecing this flower basket learned
To mend a broken heart.

Dead kinsfolk, who have left to me
These quilts you made in vanished springs,
Would that I had your fortitude
You joy in simple things!