Comments about Ethelwyn Wetherald
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,