THE WEAVER
All day long at my Work 1 slay, Wcaing the thread of life; The thread of hunger and war is grey, Black i> the thread of strife. The beautiful thread of prayer is white. Pure as a gleaming dove; Crimson is usee' for all things bright, Gold is the thread of love. And when my gleaming tapestry's done, Happiness mixed With pain; They'll lay me down in the kindly sun. Never to weave again. •—Original, by Elaine Hewitt 115).
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NZH19400330.2.154.22.8
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVII, Issue 23618, 30 March 1940, Page 3 (Supplement)
Word Count
81THE WEAVER New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVII, Issue 23618, 30 March 1940, Page 3 (Supplement)
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Acknowledgements
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