AN AFTERNOON CALL
Reading edition
To shelter from the thunder-drench A scorched and sorefoot tramping wench Came to my door and proffered me Lilac, that I had viewed her wrench Out of my neighbour’s tree. I bade her in. With glances keen She eyed my well-found kitchen, scene Of kind domestic arts; Like one who curious and serene Looks round on foreign parts. She talked of winds and wayside fruits, Seas, cities, fair-times, landmarks, routes Of journeys past and gone. I gave her an old pair of boots That she might wander on.