The Knittin'est Woman, and: To a Thoughtless Guest

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Two Poems . . . . ANN COBB THE KNITTIN'EST WOMAN Knittin'est woman I ever seed! Quare how that runs around in my head? The burying's gone like a sorry dream, Now that I'm left alone with my dead. Grands and greats she knitted hose, Seemly and stout of heel and knee. And many's the pair our soldier lads Battled in, over the old salt sea. Times, she'd take hit to bed with her And throw out a sock in the gonesome night. I've wakened and watched hit flickering Back and forth in the fire-log's light. Preacher told of her steady faith, And orderly walking all her days. But living together for sixty years, A man's remembrance holds little ways. 16 TO A THOUGHTLESS GUEST We gave you mountain fare, Not reckoning the cost, And I'm not a-meaning fodder and meatHit 's confidence we lost. Friend of our friend you came,— The proper password here,— So we sang our ballets and told our tales To make our friend good cheer. No matter how we know You mocked our ways and looks. Naught's hidden but shall be revealed, Is writ in the Book of Books. Don't think us stricken deep. You'll not be named again. Who breaks our bread, and then breaks faith, Is naught to mountain men. 17 ...

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