My Visitors

My Visitors by Ruth Collie (1929)

"My Visitors" by Ruth Collie is a slim collection of verse that opens with its title poem, establishing the book's central conceit: poetic inspiration personified as a series of callers who arrive uninvited at different hours of the day, each embodying a distinct stage of creative and emotional life. At Dawn, a "little rhyme" appears, whispering "Take me, pray," but the poet turns it away, dismissing it as too young and drowsy-eyed, lacking the "thoughtful face" she desires in her verse. At Noon, another rhyme lisps its plea to be heard, but again the poet demurs, protesting that she has no time and that a rhyme only "Twelve-Hours-Old" is not yet strong enough to "bear the burden of a song." It is only at Night, when three little rhymes arrive together and settle by her fire, that the poet welcomes her visitors with genuine delight. Asked their desire, they answer as one voice: "We're knocking at your heart... won't you let us slip inside?" In this final encounter the poet recognizes each face in turn — the child-like grace of Dawn, the half-finished labor of Noon, and the weariness of Night — and invites them all to remain, for together they compose the complete "Song of Day." This opening poem functions as a kind of ars poetica for the collection as a whole, framing Collie's verses not as deliberately composed literary exercises but as spontaneous, almost sentient visitations that must be received with patience and hospitality rather than summoned or forced. The rhymes are treated as living callers with their own temperaments — shy and untried in the morning, impatient and pressing at midday, weary but persistent by evening — and the poet's initial refusals are not rejections of inspiration itself but an insistence that a poem must mature and gather experience before it can be adequately expressed. The progression from Dawn to Noon to Night mirrors the arc of a single day compressed into a metaphor for a fuller lifetime or a complete creative process: youthful promise, unfinished striving, and eventual, hard-won completion. Only when all three phases converge does the poet find a song worth keeping, suggesting that true poetic or emotional expression requires the accumulated weight of a whole day's — or a whole life's — experience rather than any single fleeting moment of feeling. Structurally and tonally, the poem sets expectations for the rest of "My Visitors": a light, musical rhyme scheme; a conversational, almost nursery-rhyme cadence; and a recurring device of personification in which abstract qualities (time, mood, inspiration, memory) are dramatized as small, distinct characters who "visit" the speaker. The title of the collection itself is drawn directly from this framing device — the poems that follow are implicitly cast as further "visitors" arriving at the poet's door or fireside, each bringing its own modest claim on her attention. The domestic imagery of hearth and fire, and the intimate, welcoming tone extended to the three rhymes at Night, suggests a collection preoccupied with home, comfort, and the quiet interior life, in which even artistic creation is imagined less as labor performed at a desk than as hospitality offered to guests who arrive of their own accord. The poet's initial reluctance followed by eventual embrace also introduces a gentle emotional arc — from guardedness to openness — that likely recurs across the collection's subsequent poems, as further "visitors" (whether literal callers, memories, seasons, or moods) are received into the speaker's household and heart. Overall, this opening piece establishes "My Visitors" as a warm, whimsical meditation on how creativity, feeling, and companionship arrive unbidden and must be welcomed on their own terms and in their own time, rather than commanded into being.

By Ruth Collie · First published 1929 · Genre: Poetry, Children's Literature, Allegorical Fiction · 233 words

First lines

At Dawn a little rhyme appeared and whispered: "Take me, pray. " "Oh, / little rhyme," I softly jeered, "I bid you run away. You've sleepy / eyes and child-like grace. I want a rhyme with thoughtful face. " At / Noon there came a little rhyme, and lisped: "Do listen, please! " / Said I "Not now. I have no time. Now, little rhyme, don't tease. / At Twelve-Hours-Old you are not strong to bear the burden of a song. " / Three little rhymes arrived at night, and sat beside my fire. I / welcomed them with great delight, and asked them their desire. / "We're knocking at your heart," they cried. "Oh, won't you let us / slip inside? " In turn I looked at each small face. I recognized / each one. For here was Dawn of child-like grace, and Noon of work / half-done, and weary Night. I bid them stay, for they made up the / Song of Day.

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poetry · early-20th-century · British literature · Canadian literature · verse · reflection · contemplation · daily life · visitors · uplifting · introspection · personal observations

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