Anonymous Works


The Weaver


My life is but a weaving, between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily.
Ofttimes he weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.
Not till the loom is silent, and the shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas, and explain the reasons why
The dark threads are as needful in the skillful weaver's hand
As threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

He knows, He loves, He cares,
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives His very best to those
Who leave the choice with Him.

Submitted: Tuesday, May 08, 2001

Do you like this poem?
2 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read poems about / on: pride, silver, sorrow, truth, dark, god, life

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Weaver by Anonymous Works )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  2. If, Rudyard Kipling
  3. Warning, Jenny Joseph
  4. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  5. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
  6. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
  7. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  8. Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland
  9. Moonlit Night, Tu Fu
  10. A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe

Poem of the Day

poet Tu Fu

Tonight at Fu-chou, this moon she watches
Alone in our room. And my little, far-off
Children, too young to understand what keeps me
Away, or even remember Chang'an. By now,

...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Francis Ledwidge

 
[Hata Bildir]