The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets


by Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

THE SNOW-FALL.



THE great, soft, downy snow-fall like a cloak
     Descends to wrap the lean world head to feet;
     It gives the dead another winding-sheet,
It buries all the roofs until the smoke
Seems like a soul that from its clay has broke;

5

     Is broods moon-like upon the autumn wheat,
     And visits all he trees in their retreat,
To hood and mantle that poor shivering folk.

With wintry bloom it fills the harshest grooves
     In jagged pine stump fences; every sound

10

          It hushes to the footstep of a nun;
Sweet Charity, that brightens where it moves,
     Inducing darkest bits of churlish ground
          To give a radiant answer to the sun. [Page 181]