by James Stephens
As down the road she wambled slow,
She had not got a place to go:
She had not got a place to fall
And rest herself – no place at all!
She stumped along, and wagged her pate;
And said a thing was deperate.
Her face was screwed and wrinkled tight
Just like a nut – and, left and right,
On either side, she wagged her head
And said a thing; and what she said
Was desperate as any word
That ever yet a person heard.
I walked behind her for a while,
And watched the people nudge and smile:
But ever, as she went, she said,
As left and right she swung her head,
“O God He knows: And, God He knows!
And, surely God Almighty knows!”