The House of the Trees
& Other Poems


by Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

The Woodside Way



I WANDERED down the woodside way,
Where branching doors ope with the breeze,
And saw a little child at play
Among the strong and lovely trees;
The dead leaves rustled to her knees;
5
Her hair and eyes were brown as they.

“Oh, little child,” I softly said,
“You come a long, long way to me;
The trees that tower overhead
Are here in sweet reality,
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But you’re the child I used to be,
And all the leaves of May you tread.” [Page 15]