The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets


by Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

TO THE WISTARIA.

(IN THE SOUTH.)



I SEE you on the cedar swinging,
To higher branches reaching, clinging,
Then all your lovely weight out-flinging
    Upon his dark and stately strength;
O many and many an odorous blossom

5

From overflowing arms you toss him!
The royal purple flung across him
    Is dripping perfume all its length.

Upon the cedar branches swaying,
You seem a flowery fountain playing,

10

Then April comes—no more delaying—
    The flakes drop down in sun and gloom;
The garden seat they thickly cover,
The girl that leans against her lover
Hears in the purple air above her

15

    Love’s whisper through a storm of bloom. [Page 48]