Ledwidge addresses a friend whose occasional visits completely change the atmosphere of the house. The fire seems to burn brighter, ordinary routines become interesting, and conversation opens onto books, travel, and old customs. The speaker feels a kind of delighted relief, as if everyday worries are gently laughed away. The friend also reads poetry aloud in a way that reveals hidden meanings, and plays the fiddle so beautifully that the music seems to linger in the misty garden like faint bells. The mood is warm, intimate, and slightly enchanted—full of affection for someone who brings surprise and freshness into a quiet life. The closing invitation is generous and open: come whenever you can, from wherever you are, whether life is kind or difficult. That makes the poem feel like a heartfelt welcome.
To One Who Comes Now and Then — Summary
When you come in, it seems a brighter fire Crackles upon the hearth invitingly, The household routine which was wont to tire Grows full of novelty.
You sit upon our home-upholstered chair And talk of matters wonderful and strange, Of books, and travel, customs old which dare The gods of Time and Change.
Till we with inner word our care refute Laughing that this our bosoms yet assails, While there are maidens dancing to a flute In Andalusian vales.
And sometimes from my shelf of poems you take And secret meanings to our hearts disclose, As when the winds of June the mid bush shake We see the hidden rose.
And when the shadows muster, and each tree A moment flutters, full of shutting wings, You take the fiddle and mysteriously Wake wonders on the strings.
And in my garden, grey with misty flowers, Low echoes fainter than a beetle's horn Fill all the corners with it, like sweet showers Of bells, in the owl's morn.
Come often, friend, with welcome and surprise We'll greet you from the sea or from the town; Come when you like and from whatever skies Above you smile or frown.