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Josephine Preston Peabody (Жозефина Престон Пибоди) The Masterpiece My Mother cut it out for me, And started it, so I could see; And then she turned some edges in, And let me take it to begin. I made it. But I did not know How very long it takes to sew. I took a long time for that stitch; And now it's there, I don't know which Is better. But not one is small, And they are not alike at all. That side was very hard to fix. And then, the needle always pricks: But you must hold it, and take care,-- Because the point is always there; And knots keep coming by and by; And then, no matter how you try, The thread comes out of its old eye! * * * * * But some way, now I have it done,-- I think it is a Pretty One. Josephine Preston Peabody's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1220 |
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