The House of the Trees
& Other Poems

by Ethelwyn Wetherald


The Sun on the Trees

THE sun within the leafy woods
    Is like a midday moon,
So soft upon these solitudes
    Is bent the face of noon.

Loosed from the outside summer blaze
    A few gold arrows stray;
A vagrant brilliance droops or plays
    Through all the dusky day.

The gray trunk feels a touch of light,
    While, where dead leaves are deep,
A gleam of sunshine golden white
    Lies like a soul asleep.

And just beyond dank-rooted ferns,
    Where darkening hemlocks sigh
And leaves are dim, the bare road burns
    Beneath a dazzling sky. [Page 4]