The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets


by Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

A FAIRER ART.



THE soul of beauty speaks through roughest stone
    And makes the sculptor’s task
A glory and a rapture. He alone
    May lift the clinging mask.

Be thine a fairer art: to bare thine ear

5

    To life’s unresting sea,
And in its harshest discords feel and hear
    The soul of harmony. [Page 13]