Verse 50

I have a friend I've yet to meet;
Who ever makes her rounds
Through winter snow and summer heat,
To hamlet, farm, and town;

The rumor of her step is heard
On ev'ry stoop and porch;
Her touch a priceless gift confers,
Extinguishing a torch;

A moonlit night, a hoot owl calls;
The field mouse hesitates;
And she is there, as downed wings fall
To pay the debt to Fate;

One day, her kiss will strike me dumb;
I'll take her offer'd hand;
As all before, all those to come
Must answer her demand;