IN THE ANTIQUE SHOP.
Reading edition
All day the silver-headed craftsman bends Over the broken chain, the gemless rings, The voiceless clock, the fragile fan, and mends With delicate fingers rare broken things. I gaze on him, on gems and glimmering gold, See light restoring touches, magic skill; Till to my heart come strange imaginings Of ruined lives I know, shattered and still. O Craftsman! Here is mettle, dull and old; Look on these broken lives. Can’st thou remold? Can’st thou, with color, love designs refill— Bring beauty out of sorrow’s patternings?