The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets

by Ethelwyn Wetherald



AMID  the young year’s breathing hopes,
    When eager grasses wrap the earth,
I see on greening orchard slopes
    The blossoms trembling into birth.
They open wide their rosy palms


    To feel the hesitation rain,
Or beg a longed-for golden alms
    From skies that deep in clouds have lain.

They mingle with the bluebird’s songs,
    And with the warm wind’s reverie;


To sward and stream their snow belongs,
    To neighboring pines in flocks they flee.
O doubly crowned with breathing hopes
    The branches bending down to earth
That feel on greening orchard slopes


    Their blossoms trembling into birth! [Page 67]