Poems (Henley)/Visitor

by William Ernest Henley

XX VISITOR

Her little face is like a walnut shellWith wrinkling lines; her soft, white hair adornsHer withered brows in quaint, straight curls, like horns;And all about her clings an old, sweet smell.Prim is her gown and quakerlike her shawl.Well might her bonnets have been born on her.Can you conceive a Fairy GodmotherThe subject of a strong religious call?In snow or shine, from bed to bed she runs,All twinkling smiles and texts and pious tales,Her mittened hands, that ever give or pray,Bearing a sheaf of tracts, a bag of buns:A wee old maid that sweeps the Bridegroom's way,Strong in a cheerful trust that never fails.