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Ballad of the Harp Weaver

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  • Ballad of the Harp Weaver



    “Son,” said my mother,
    When I was knee-high,
    “You’ve need of clothes to cover you,
    And not a rag have I.

    “There’s nothing in the house
    To make a boy breeches,
    Nor shears to cut a cloth with,
    Nor thread to take stitches.

    “There’s nothing in the house
    But a loaf-end of rye,
    And a harp with a woman’s head
    Nobody will buy,”
    And she began to cry.

    That was in the early fall.
    When came the late fall,
    “Son,” she said, “the sight of you
    Makes your mother’s blood crawl,—

    “Little skinny shoulder blades
    Sticking through your clothes!
    And where you’ll get a jacket from
    God above knows.

    “It’s lucky for me, lad,
    Your daddy’s in the ground,
    And can’t see the way I let
    His son go around!”
    And she made a %$+$$ sound.

    That was in the late fall.
    When the winter came,
    I’d not a pair of breeches
    Nor a shirt to my name.

    I couldn’t go to school,
    Or out of doors to play.
    And all the other little boys
    Passed our way.

    “Son,” said my mother,
    “Come, climb into my lap,
    And I’ll chafe your little bones
    While you take a nap.”

    And, oh, but we were silly
    For half an hour or more,
    Me with my long legs
    Dragging on the floor,

    A-rock-rock-rocking
    To a Mother Goose rhyme!
    Oh, but we were happy
    For half an hour’s time!

    But there was I, a great boy,
    And what would folks say
    To hear my mother singing me
    To sleep all day,
    In such a daft way?

    Men say the winter
    Was bad that year;
    Fuel was scarce,
    And food was dear.

    A wind with a wolf’s head
    Howled about our door,
    And we burned up the chairs
    And sat upon the floor.

    All that was left us
    Was a chair we couldn’t break,
    And the harp with a woman’s head
    Nobody would take,
    For song or pity’s sake.

    The night before Christmas
    I cried with the cold,
    I cried myself to sleep
    Like a two-year-old.

    And in the deep night
    I felt my mother rise,
    And stare down upon me
    With love in her eyes.

    I saw my mother sitting
    On the one good chair,
    A light falling on her
    From I couldn’t tell where,

    Looking nineteen,
    And not a day older,
    And the harp with a woman’s head
    Leaned against her shoulder.

    Her thin fingers, moving
    In the thin, tall strings,
    Were weav-weav-weaving
    Wonderful things.

    Many bright threads,
    From where I couldn’t see,
    Were running through the harp strings
    Rapidly,

    And gold threads whistling
    Through my mother’s hand.
    I saw the web grow,
    And the pattern expand.

    She wove a child’s jacket,
    And when it was done
    She laid it on the floor
    And wove another one.

    She wove a red cloak
    So regal to see,
    “She’s made it for a king’s son,”
    I said, “and not for me.”
    But I knew it was for me.

    She wove a pair of breeches
    Quicker than that!
    She wove a pair of boots
    And a little cocked hat.

    She wove a pair of mittens,
    She wove a little blouse,
    She wove all night
    In the still, cold house.

    She sang as she worked,
    And the harp strings spoke;
    Her voice never faltered,
    And the thread never broke.
    And when I awoke,—

    There sat my mother
    With the harp against her shoulder,
    Looking nineteen,
    And not a day older,

    A smile about her lips,
    And a light about her head,
    And her hands in the harp strings
    Frozen dead.

    And piled up beside her
    And toppling to the skies,
    Were the clothes of a king’s son,
    Just my size.
    I google because I'm not young enough to know everything.
    Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

  • #2
    Nice one jembo , never seen nor heard of that before ..... would bring the kid out
    of some , me thinks .

    Comment


    • #3
      awwwww never heard this one before..sad

      Comment


      • #4
        Originally posted by Twobob View Post
        Nice one jembo , never seen nor heard of that before ..... would bring the kid out
        of some , me thinks .
        I also never heard it before and it sure would bring back the kid in some of us.
        I google because I'm not young enough to know everything.
        Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

        Comment

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