The House of the Trees & Other Poems 1
The House of the Trees & Other Poems
Author: Ethelwyn Wetherald
Contents
The House of the Trees Page 3
The Sun on the Trees 4
Moonlight 5
Pine Needles 6
The Sound of the Axe 7
The Prayer of the Year 9
The Hay Field 10
Twilight 12
The Sky Path 13
Fall and Spring 14
The Woodside Way 15
A Rainy Day 16
When Twilight Comes 17
Leafless April 18
The Visitors 19
Autumn Days 20
Woodland Worship 21
When Days Are Long 22
Out of Doors 23
Make Room 24
The Humming Bird 25
September 26
The March Orchard 28
The Blind Man 30
To the October Wind 32
A Midday in Midsummer 33
A Slow Rain 35
The Patient Earth 36
At Dawn 39
In the Crowd 41
By Fields of Grass 42
October 43
Winter 44
The Snow-Storm 45
To February 46
Rest 47
The Shy Sun 48
In April 49
Apple Blossoms 50
The Big Moon 51
The Twins 53
Autumn Fire 55
In the Grass 56
The Fields of Dark 57
Children in the City 59
Where Pleasures Grow 60
In the Heart of the Woods 61
Frost 62
The Chipmunk 63
Give Me the Poorest Weed 64
The Weeks that Walk in Green 65
Noonday of the Year 66
The Wind World 67
At the Window 68
Come Back Again 69
A Rainy Morning 71
June Apples 72
Beginning and End 73
Not at Home 75
The Wind of Memory 76
Philippa 78
The Student 79
Unspoken 80
Under the King 83
The Secret 84
Limitation 85
Three Years Old 86
Sometime, I Fear 88
Joy 89
In the Dark 91
Words 92
The Wind of Death 93
The House of the Trees
The House of the Trees
Ope your doors and take me in,
Spirit of the wood;
Wash me clean of dust and din,
Clothe me in your mood.
Take me from the noisy light
To the sunless peace,
Where at midday standeth Night,
Signing Toil’s release.
All your dusky twilight stores
To my senses give;
Take me in and lock the doors,
Show me how to live.
Lift your leafy roof for me,
Part your yielding walls,
Let me wander lingeringly
Through your scented halls.
Ope your doors and take me in,
Spirit of the wood;
Take me--make me next of kin
To your leafy brood.
The Sun on the Trees
The sun within the leafy woods
Is like a midday moon,
So soft upon these solitudes
Is bent the face of noon.
Loosed from the outside summer blaze
A few gold arrows stray;
A vagrant brilliance droops or plays
Through all the dusky day.
The gray trunk feels a touch of light,
While, where dead leaves are deep,
A gleam of sunshine golden white
Lies like a soul asleep.
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