Tangled in Stars

Poems by
Ethelwyn Wetherald



 

THE LEAVES



When with an airy covering
    Around the summer’s woodland wall,
Or wreathing all the doors of spring,
    Or painting all the paths of fall,

The leaves go on their lovely ways,

5
    With naught to ask, with all to give,
They make for me the empty days
    Of winter lonelier to live. [Page 10]