The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets


by Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

THE ONE FACE.



WHEN the long miles flew from the flying train,
     And carried with them river-bend and bay,
     Sky-reaching hills and little streams at play,
Dank marsh and many a fenceless, boundless plain
Freckled with cattle, fields of lustrous grain,

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     Long rocky stretches, cities smoky gray,
     Sparkling at night and one dull roar by day,
And forests darkly glistening after rain;

I looked upon my fellow-travellers
     And saw, though each was gazing from his place,

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         He chiefly viewed the spot from whence he came:
Mount, stream, town, prairie, deeply glistening firs,
     Were clustering round the one beloved face,
         Of which the outer world was but the frame. [Page 167]