Mrs. Willow
Mrs. Thomas Willow seems very glum.Her life, perhaps, is very lonely and hum-drum,Digging up potatoes, cleaning out the weeds,Doing the little for a lone woman’s needs.Who was her husband? How long ago?What does she wonder? What does she know?Why does she listen over the wall,Morning and noon-time and twilight and all,As though unforgotten were some footfall?
“Good morning, Mrs. Willow.” “Good morning, sir,”Is all the conversation I can get from her.And her path-stones are white as lilies of the wood,And she washes this and that till she must be very good.She sends no letters, and no one calls,And she doesn’t go whispering beyond her walls;Nothing in her garden is secret, I think--That’s all sun-bright with foxglove and pink,And she doesn’t hover around old cupboards and shelvesAs old people do who have buried themselves;She has no late lamps, and she digs all dayAnd polishes and plants in a common way,But glum she is, and she listens now and thenFor a footfall, a footfall, a footfall again,And whether it’s hope, or whether it’s dread,Or a poor old fancy in her head,I shall never be told; it will never be said.
Words in this poem
- glum n.
- Sullenness. Skelton. [See Gloom.]
- lone n.
- A lane. See Loanin.
- needs adv.
- Of necessity; necessarily; indispensably; -- often with must, and equivalent to of need. [Orig. gen. of need, used as an adverb. Cf. - wards.]
- footfall n.
- A setting down of the foot; a footstep; the sound of a footstep.
- hover n.
- A cover; a shelter; a protection. Carew. C. Kingsley. [Etymol. doubtful.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Mrs. Willow is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems, 1908-1919, Project Gutenberg ebook #51575; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: John Drinkwater, Mrs. Willow, in Poems, 1908-1919 (1919), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #51575, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/drinkwater-poems/mrs-willow.html, id L23057.
Form and metre
Mrs. Willow is 26 lines in 2 stanzas. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic tetrameter.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AABBCCDDD glumA · drumA · weedsB · needsB · agoC · knowC · wallD · allD · footfallD
- 2 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHH sirA · herA · woodB · goodB · callsC · wallsC · thinkD · pinkD · shelvesE · themselvesE · dayF · wayF · thenG · againG · dreadH · headH · saidH
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Mrs. Thomas Willow seems very glum. | 10 | /˘/˘/··/˘· |
| Her life, perhaps, is very lonely and hum-drum, | 12 | ··˘/·/˘/˘··· |
| Digging up potatoes, cleaning out the weeds, | 11 | /˘·˘/˘/˘··· |
| Doing the little for a lone woman’s needs. | 10 | /·/˘···/˘· |
| Who was her husband? How long ago? | 9 | ···/˘··˘/ |
| What does she wonder? What does she know? | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| Why does she listen over the wall, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Morning and noon-time and twilight and all, | 10 | /˘····/··· |
| As though unforgotten were some footfall? | 10 | ········/· |
| “Good morning, Mrs. Willow.” “Good morning, sir,” | 11 | ·/˘/˘/··/˘· |
| Is all the conversation I can get from her. | 12 | ····˘/˘····· |
| And her path-stones are white as lilies of the wood, | 12 | ·······/˘··· |
| And she washes this and that till she must be very good. | 14 | ··/˘·······/˘· |
| She sends no letters, and no one calls, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| And she doesn’t go whispering beyond her walls; | 11 | ··/˘·/˘···· |
| Nothing in her garden is secret, I think-- | 11 | /˘··/˘·/˘·· |
| That’s all sun-bright with foxglove and pink, | 9 | ·····/··· |
| And she doesn’t hover around old cupboards and shelves | 13 | ··/˘/˘···/˘·· |
| As old people do who have buried themselves; | 11 | ··/˘···/˘˘/ |
| She has no late lamps, and she digs all day | 10 | ·········· |
| And polishes and plants in a common way, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| But glum she is, and she listens now and then | 11 | ······/˘··· |
| For a footfall, a footfall, a footfall again, | 12 | ··/··/··/·˘/ |
| And whether it’s hope, or whether it’s dread, | 10 | ·········· |
| Or a poor old fancy in her head, | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| I shall never be told; it will never be said. | 10 | ··/····/·· |
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