The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets

by Ethelwyn Wetherald



THE letters I get from my little girl
    Are sure to end like this:
  X          X          X          X          X            X
A score of crosses, row on row,
    And every cross is a kiss.


And through the miles that separate
    My own little one from me,
I feel the tug of her loving arms,
    And her loving face I see.

Every cross is a kiss, she says;


    My crosses are never few.
They wait for me when I wake at morn,
    They follow the long day through.
I never dreamed they were sent in love—
    Ah me, what good I miss


When I push away with angry hands
    The cross that was meant for a kiss! [Page 41]

We mortals walk in a world of love,
    But we make it a world of care.
Some crosses are sharp and bring the blood,


    And some are heavy to bear.
But I think when we go in the arms of Death
    To heights of perfect bliss,
We shall see at a backward glance below
    That every cross was a kiss. [Page 42]