Whilst I sit by and watch my craft
Be writ, be made, be dyed and cast
I sit outside the circle and
Wish just for once they’d let me in.
Instead, nonesuch, I’ll bide my time,
‘til one day this will sure be mine.
But times I find it’s hard to wait…
I idle by, to hope for fate
As if one has some grand control
Of how the gods my life they dole.
How foolish I to think such things…
I wait, instead, while curtains cling.
But all import to keep in sight
That mine someday the circle might
Then I’ll peek out and wish me free
To look again within and dream