The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets

by Ethelwyn Wetherald



THE leaves within the orchard walls
     Give to the wind at play
Light-hearted plunges, leaps and falls,
     Throughout the summer day.
And yet with still, unswerving power


The fruit is ripening hour by hour.

So have I seen a spirit strong
     Give to a passing breeze
Of jest and laughter, mirth and song,
     Compliant courtesies;


And his soul’s purpose lost no whit
Of that great strength that flowed to it. [Page 121]