The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets


by Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

THE BRANCH TO THE BIRD.



SING to me, Love! My bloom belongs
To you, and matches all your songs.
    Charm, charm my ear,
    And I shall hear
Your voice amid my dewy blossoms,

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    More sweet than they—more dear.

Sing to me, Love! The bloom has gone,
And yet the long, long months go on.
    Charm, charm my heart,
    And I shall start

10

To dream amid the autumn shadows
    That spring did not depart. [Page 30]