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 ...
How dear to hearts by hurtful noises scarred
In the stillness of the many-leavèd trees,
The quiet of green hills, the million-starred
Tranquillity of night, the endless seas
Of silence in deep wilds, where nature broods
In large, serene, uninterrupted moods.
Oh, but to work as orchards work–bring forth
Pink bloom, green bud, red fruit and yellow leaf,
As noiselessly as gold proclaims its worth,