Ethelwyn Wetherald Poems
|3.||The Song Sparrow's Nest||9/16/2010|
|8.||The Wind Of Death||9/16/2010|
|10.||The House Of The Trees||9/16/2010|
|12.||If One Might Live||9/16/2010|
|13.||In The Crowd||9/16/2010|
|15.||Mother And Child||9/16/2010|
|17.||The Indigo Bird||9/16/2010|
|19.||The Hay Field||9/16/2010|
|20.||The Snow Storm||9/16/2010|
The Snow Storm
The Great soft downy snow storm 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.
It broods moon-like upon the Autumn wheat,
And visits all the 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
It hushes to the footstep of a nun.
Sweet Charity! that brightens where it moves
Inducing darkest bits of ...
If One Might Live
If one might live ten years among the leaves,
Ten–only ten–of all a life's long day,
Who would not choose a childhood 'neath the eaves
Low-sloping to some slender footpath way?
With the young grass about his childish feet,
And the young lambs within his ungrown arms,
And every streamlet side a pleasure seat
Within the wide day's treasure-house of charms.
To learn to speak while young birds learned to sing,