Poems by Ethelwyn Wetherald
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If One Might Live
... To learn to speak while young birds learned to sing, ...
Pluck
... Who, when the right arm's shattered, waves ...
February
... There comes a might that shall your might o'erthrow ...
Winter
... And all the trees have stripped them for the fight, ...
My Orders
... I was not told to win or lose, ...
The Snow Storm
... With wintry bloom it fills the harshest grooves &emsp ...
In the Crowd
... Where Traffic's voice grows harsher and more strong, ...
The Indigo Bird
... When I see, High on the tip-top twig of a tree, ...
Legacies
... See, Earth Mother, a handful of dust ...
The Hay Field
... No more they part their arms and wreathe them close ...
The Followers
... How all men baffled, burdened, crossed or curst, ...
The Screech-Owl
... Hearing the strange night-piercing sound ...
The Wind of Death
... The wind blows loves like leaves apart ...
Prodigal Yet
... Yet deep in the mire, with sensual swine, ...
Earth's Silences
... It seems to say, 'Oh, hush thee! hush, my child!' ...
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