The House of the Trees
& Other Poems

by Ethelwyn Wetherald


In April

WHEN Spring unbound comes o’er us like a flood,
          My spirit slips its bars,
And thrills to see the trees break into bud
          As skies break into stars;

And joys that earth is green with eager grass,


          The heavens gray with rain,
And quickens when the spirit breezes pass,
          And turn and pass again;

And dreams upon frog melodies at night,
          Bird ecstasies at dawn,


And wakes to find sweet April at her height
          And May still beck’ning on;

And feels its sordid work, its empty play,
          Its failures and its stains
Dissolved in blossom dew, and washed away


          In delicate spring rains. [Page 49]