A Day Dream

Polly's patchwork--oh, dear me!-- Truly is a sight to see. Rumpled, crumpled, soiled, and frayed-- Will the quilt be ever made? See the stitches yawning wide-- Can it be that Polly _tried_? Some are right and some are wrong, Some too short and some too long, Some too loose and some too tight; Grimy smudges on the white, And a tiny spot of red, Where poor Polly's finger bled. Strange such pretty, dainty blocks-- Bits of Polly's summer frocks-- Should have proved so hard to sew, And the cause of so much woe! One day it was _very_ hot, And the thread got in a knot, Drew the seam up in a heap-- Polly calmly fell asleep. Then she had a lovely dream; Straight and even was the seam, Pure and spotless was the white; All the blocks were finished quite-- Each joined to another one. Lo, behold! the quilt was done,-- Lined and quilted,--and it seemed To cover Polly as she dreamed!