The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets


by Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

THE SUN IN THE WOODS.



THE sun within the leafy woods
    Is like a midday moon,
So soft upon these solitudes
    Is bent the face of noon.

Loosed from the outside summer blaze

5

    A few gold arrows stray;
A vagrant brilliance droops or plays
    Through all the dusky day.

The gray trunk feels a touch of light,
    While, where dead leaves are deep,

10

A gleam of sunshine, golden white,
    Lies like a soul asleep.

And just beyond dank-rooted ferns,
    Where darkening hemlocks sigh
And leaves are dim, the bare road burns

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    Beneath a dazzling sky. [Page 81]