The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets


by Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

THE CROWNING SATIRE.



HERE is the crowning satire,
    In a world where springtime wreathes
The naked forest arches
    With a loveliness that breathes;
Where a myriad blooms are thickening

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    With beauty Earth’s old crust,
That men are chasing dollars,
    And the women chasing dust.

The splendor of a palace
    Is naught to that of a hut

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Rained on by the gold of autumn,
    With a door that is never shut;
With Peace for the nearest neighbor,
    And Joy and Love and Trust
Singing in woods and waters,

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    Far off from dollars and dust. [Page 46]

Ah, would it be a wonder
    If the gods above us bowed
Should rebuke us in the thunder,
    Should scoff at us in the cloud,

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Should mock at us in laughter,
    That swept from earth in a gust
The men that are chasing dollars
    And the women chasing dust!

O housekeepers peerless and cheerless,

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    And men who are gluttons of gold,
The only joy that is tearless
    Can never be swept up nor sold;
It beckons to us from the branches,
    It yearns to us from the blue:

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O seekers of dust and dollars,
    It is your dream come true! [Page 47]