poet William Ernest Henley

William Ernest Henley

#91 on top 500 poets

In Fisherrow

A hard north-easter fifty winters long
Has bronzed and shrivelled sere her face and neck;
Her locks are wild and grey, her teeth a wreck;
Her foot is vast, her bowed leg spare and strong.
A wide blue cloak, a squat and sturdy throng
Of curt blue coats, a mutch without a speck,
A white vest broidered black, her person deck,
Nor seems their picked, stern, old-world quaintness wrong.
Her great creel forehead-slung, she wanders nigh,
Easing the heavy strap with gnarled, brown fingers,
The spirit of traffic watchful in her eye,
Ever and anon imploring you to buy,
As looking down the street she onward lingers,
Reproachful, with a strange and doleful cry.

Poem Submitted: Monday, April 12, 2010

Add this poem to MyPoemList

Rating Card

2,6 out of 5
19 total ratings
rate this poem

Comments about In Fisherrow by William Ernest Henley

  • Bonnie Lundgren (12/20/2011 8:04:00 PM)

    'Her foot is vast, her bowed leg spare and strong...
    Nor seems their picked, stern, old-world quaintness wrong.'
    Very good description. Having never seen such a personage, my mind can conjure an image at this prompt.

    Report Reply
    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?