Because it's hard to read on the image. Here's a transcription of the poem by Harriet Whitney Durbin.
Sewing Carpet Rags
The day was dull and misty; the sky was cold and pale;
Each minute, o’er the cottage roof, a dismal gust would wail.
I raised my voice and grumbled at Nature’s ruthless law
That all the world should undergo a February thaw.
The very fire pouted; the kettle would not hum;
The household spirits slowly sank, and visages were glum,
When Cousin Kate, a cheery soul whose courage never flags,
Said: “What a splendid day it is for sewing carpet rags.”
A sudden change came o’er us; we climbed the attic stair,
And gathered up with active hands the ancient garments there.
A queer old dusty scent of sage and boneset hung around,
And old, forgotten odds and ends in nook and trunk we found.
With arms and aprons laden we sought the sitting room,
And lo! the February day had lost its darkest gloom.
With bits of song and joke we gathered in the hearthstone’s glow
To plan a gay new carpet from the wrecks of long ago.
Our busy fingers cut and tore the vari-colored stuff
And heaped the baskets full of strips of red and brown and buff.
And then, with flying needles (while tongues ran on as fast),
We sewed away, and ere we knew, the afternoon was past.
The supper board was ready; the coffee and the cream,
The sally-lunn and honey were perfect as a dream.
And Memory still brings me, with joy that never flags,
The misty afternoon we spent in sewing carpet rags.