The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets

by Ethelwyn Wetherald



ONE day I caught up with my angel, she
     Who calls me bell-like from a sky-touched tower.
     ’Twas in my roof-room, at the stillest hour
Of a still, sunless day, when suddenly
A flood of deep unreasoned ecstasy


     Lifted my heart, that had begun to cower,
     And wrapped it in a flame of living power.
My leader said, “Arise and follow me.”

Then as I followed gladly I beheld
     How all men baffled, burdened, crossed or curst,


          Clutch at an angel’s hem, if near or far;
One not-to-be-resisted voice, deep-belled,
     Speaks to them, and of those we call the worst,
          Lo, each poor blackened brow strains to a Star!
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