She was just a beginner at tatting,
That dear little daughter of mine,
and auntie had brought her a pattern,
perfect and daintily fine.
Shuttle and thread were all ready,
workbox stood handily by,
and to copy that wonderful sample
small hands were eager to try.
There was silence for more than a minute,
measured by grandfather's clock
and in its snug nook by the window
her chair had forgotten to rock.
Puckered her brow with the puzzle,
poised was her shuttle in air,
as my wee daughter studied her pattern
closely, with scrupulous care.
A sigh, and the problem was ended,
"It's lovely as lovely can be;
but I think I will keep it to look at,
until I grow up to it, see?
'cause, you know, when upstairs I am climbing
I take just one step at a time,
That's the way when we're learning to do things,"
explained my wise daughter, aged nine.
And I smiled as I thought that the lesson
is one we should all understand,
One step at a time on life's stairway,
one duty, one task, next at hand,
lead up to the goal where perfection
shall crown all endeavors in one,
as we stand on the heights with the victors,
and the beautiful pattern is done.