The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets


by Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

IN JUNE.



THE trees are full, the winds are tame,
The fields are pictures in a frame
    Of leafy roads and fair abodes,
Steeped in content too large for name.

Across a slender bridge of night
5

The luminous days are swift in flight,
    As though ’twere wrong to cover song
And scent and greenness from the light.

Within the snowy clouds above
Sits viewless Peace, a brooding dove;

10

   For every nest there beats a breast,
For every love some answering love.

The ways are thronged with angel wings,
The heart with angel whisperings;
    And as it seems in happy dreams

15

The bird of gladness sings and sings. [Page 77]