The Golden Darkness/Two Pale Hands in the Night

TWO PALE HANDS IN THE NIGHT.

Framed in the blackness of a factory pane,
Two pale hands moved and stitched long day on day,
And I, who dreamed and watched across the way,
Saw joyous beauty wander by in vain:
The sky blundered over the roof; the dawn
Lit to a dull smile the window’s dust and stain;
Sunset went by, twilight and the wild grey rain;
And all the time the dim white hands stitched on.

Like drowning hands they cried in that dark place;
Winters spread wide their snow, and springs their green.
One day only a black, blank pane was seen,
And they were gone, I never saw the face;
But where the waves had closed on that white cry
The darkness thundered on beneath the sky. . . .