The House of the Trees
& Other Poems

by Ethelwyn Wetherald


The Fields of Dark

THE wreathing vine within the porch
     Is in the heart of me,
The roses that the noondays scorch
     Shall burn in memory;
Alone at night I quench the light,


     And without star or spark
The grass and trees press to my knees,
     And flowers throng the dark.

The leaves that loose their hold at noon
     Drop on my face like rain,


And in the watches of the moon
     I feel them fall again.
By day I stray how far away
     To stream and wood and steep,
But on my track they all come back


     To haunt the vale of sleep.

The fields of light are clover-brimmed,
     Or grassed or daisy-starred,
The fields of dark are softly dimmed,
     And safely twilight-barred; [Page 57]


But in the gloom that fills my room
     I cannot fail to mark
The grass and trees about my knees,
     The flowers in the dark. [Page 58]