A poem by Fay Inchfawn

His step? Ah, no; 'tis but the rain
That hurtles on the window pane.
Let's draw the curtains close and sit
Beside the fire awhile and knit.
Two purl -- two plain. A well-shaped sock,
And warm. (I thought I heard a knock,
But 'twas the slam of Jones's door.)
Yes, good Scotch yarn is far before
The fleecy wools -- a different thing,
And best for wear. (Was that his ring?)
No. 'Tis the muffin man I see;
We'll have threepennyworth for tea.
Two plain -- two purl; that heel is neat.
(I hear his step far down the street.)
Two purl -- two plain. The sock can wait;
I'll make the tea. (He's at the gate!)

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