The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets


by Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

APRIL BUDS.



BUDS on the living tree,
    Buds in the heart.
Tree hopes and heart hopes,
    Thickly they start.

If to the cold ground

5

    All the hopes depart,
Trustfully looks the tree,
    Why not the heart? [Page 65]