Ethelwyn Wetherald (1857–1940)

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

Singing 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.