The House of the Trees
& Other Poems

by Ethelwyn Wetherald


In the Crowd

HERE in the crowded city’s busy street,
     Swayed by the eager, jostling, hasting throng,
          Where Traffic’s voice grows harsher and more strong,
I see within the stream of hurrying feet
A company of trees in their retreat,


     Dew-bathed, dream-wrapped, and with a thrush’s song
          Emparadising all the place, along
Whose paths I hear the pulse of Beauty beat.

’Twas yesterday I walked beneath the trees,
     To-day I tread the city’s stony ways;


          And still the spell that o’er my spirit came
Turns harshest sounds to shy bird ecstasies,
     Pours scent of pine through murky chimney haze,
          And gives each careworn face a woodland frame.
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