The Ballad of the Harp-Weaver

Edna St. Vincent Millay

The sky was molten metal,
The sun a forge,
The sky was molten metal,
The sun a forge.

My mother was a weaver,
She wove and wove,
The sun was molten metal,
And my mother wove.

I saw my mother weaving,
Her loom was gold,
The sun was molten metal,
And my mother wove.

I saw my mother weaving,
She wove so high,
The sun was molten metal,
And my mother wove.