Although machine-knitted stockings were widely available, they were considered inferior to handknit stockings and wore out quickly from the rigors of long marches and insufficient washing.

The following lines were found in a bundle of socks, sent by a “Lively Old
Lady,” in Amherst, N.H., to the U.S. Hospital, corner of Broad and Cherry
streets, Philadelphia.

By the fireside, cosily seated,
With spectacles riding her nose,
The lively old lady is knitting
A wonderful pair of Hose.
She pities the shivering soldier,
Who is out in the pelting storm;
And busily plies her needles,
To keep him hearty and warm.

Her eyes are reading the embers,
But her heart is off to the War,
For she knows what those brave fellows
Are gallantly fighting for.
Her fingers as well as her fancy,
Are cheering them on their way;
Who under the good old banner,
Are saving their Country to-day.

She ponders how in her childhood,
Her Grandmother used to tell –
The story of barefoot soldiers,
Who fought so long and well.
And the men of the Revolution
Are nearer to her than us;
And that, perhaps, is the reason
Why she is toiling thus.

She cannot shoulder a musket,
Nor ride with Cavalry crew,
But nevertheless she is ready
To work for he boys who do.
And yet in “Official Dispatches,”
That come from the Army or Fleet,
Her feats may have never a notice,
Though ever so mighty the feet!

So prithee, proud owner of muscle,
Or purse-proud owner of stocks,
Don’t sneer at the labors of woman,
Or smile at her bundle of socks.
Her heart may be larger and braver
Than his who is tallest of all,
The work of her hand as important,
As cash that buys powder and ball.

And thus while her quiet performance
Is being recorded in rhyme,
The tools in her tremulous fingers
Are running a race with time.
Strange that four needles can form
A perfect triangular bound;
And equally strange that their antics
Result in perfecting the round.

And now, while beginning “to narrow,”
She thinks of the Maryland mud,
And wonders if ever the stocking
Will wade to the ancle in blood.
And now she is |”shaping the heel;”
And now she is ready “to bind;”
And hopes if the soldier is wounded,
It will never be from behind.

And now she is “raising the instep,”
Now “narrowing off at the toe,”
And prays that this end of the worsted
May never be turned to the foe.
She “gathers” the last of the stitches
As if a new laurel were won;
And placing the ball in the basket,
Announces the stocking as “done.”

Ye men who are fighting our battles,
Away from the comforts of life,
Who thot’fully muse by your campfires,
On sweetheart, or sister, or wife, –
Just think of their elders a little,
And pray for the grandmothers too,
Who, patiently sitting in corners,
Are knitting the stockings for you.

It has been wisely suggested by a contemporary that the patriotic women of the country should knit socks for the volunteers. In addition to this we beg leave to call the attention of the true hearted women of the country to
some other points.