I broider the world upon a loom, 
I broider with dreams my tapestry; 
Here in a little lonely room 
I am master of earth and sea, 
And the planets come to me. 

I broider my life into the frame, 
I broider my love, thread upon thread; 
The world goes by with its glory and shame, 
Crowns are bartered and blood is shed; 
I sit and broider my dreams instead. 

And the only world is the world of my dreams, 
And my weaving the only happiness; 
For what is the world but what it seems? 
And who knows but that God, beyond our guess, 
Sits weaving worlds out of loneliness?