The Patchwork Quilt by Elizabeth Fleming
She mixes blue and mauve and green,
Purple and orange, white and red,
And all the colours in between
To patch a cover for her bed.
Oblong, triangle, star and square,
Oval and round, she makes them fit
Into a wondrous medley there,
Colour by colour, bit by bit.
Over her knee it swiftly flows,
And round her feet, a bright cascade,
While at her touch it grows and grows,
Until at last the quilt is made.
And then across the bed it lies,
A thing of gorgeous crazy bloom,
As if a rainbow from the skies
Had shattered in her little room.
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