The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets

by Ethelwyn Wetherald



WHEREVER on far distant farms
The orchard trees lift bounteous arms,
The lane is grape-leaved, woodland dense,
The chipmunk leaps the zigzag fence,
The horses from the plow’s last round


Drink with a deep sweet cooling sound,
And with the thin young moon afloat
Comes up the frog’s heart-easing note,
And tree-toads’ endless melody,
          Oh, that is home,


          Is restful home to me.

Whenever on a distant street
Two charmful eyes I chance to meet,
The look of one that knows the grace
Of every change on nature’s face,


Whose sea-like soul is open wide
To breezes from the farther side,
Whose voice and movement seem to give
The knowledge of how best to live
And how to live most happily,


          Oh, that is home,
          Is blessed home to me. [Page 133]