The Last Robin
Lyrics and Sonnets


by Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

THE WHITE GIFTS.



THESE are thy gifts, O Life:
     A white frost on the hair,
And a wintry whiteness on the cheek
     That once was red and fair.

These are thy gifts, O Love:

5

     A white frost in the veins,
And a deep-snow silence in the soul,
     Where once were fiery pains.

And thy great gifts, O Death,
     Are in the frost-bound frame,

10

The ice-locked lips, the white, white peace
     That is too deep for name. [Page 97]