The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets

by Ethelwyn Wetherald



THE woodland stretched its arms to me,
    And into its heart I went;
While by my side invisibly
    Walked musing-eyed Content.

The woodland spake no word to me,


    But, oh, its thoughts were sweet;
Against my spirit like a sea
    I felt the thought-waves beat.

Before my vision, starved and dull,
    The wood-shapes dropped their gold;


The young child-trees were beautiful,
    More beautiful the old.

Within their halls of memory
    What heavenly scenes are drawn:
The stream, the wild birds’ company,


    The sky’s cool face at dawn, [Page 44]

The golden lances of the sun,
    The rain that feels its way,
The twilight steps that, one by one,
    Lead to the moon’s white ray;


The multitude of bright leaf-forms
    Engraved on earth and air,
The black and gold of midnight storms,
    The blue that violets wear;

The wind that brings from clover farms


    A picture white and red,
Or later gathers in his arms
    The woodland’s fragile dead.

These throng the greenwood memories;
    Upon this perfumed track


The thoughts of all the silent trees
    Go wandering back and back.

This is the charm that cometh last,
    Of all their sweets the sum:
The feeling of green summers past,


    And fair green springs to come. [Page 45]