John Bannister Tabb Poems

Was it thy lord the sea
That wrought this tragedy,
A spouse to spurn?
...

O Time, where hast thou laid
My
Self
of yesterday?
...

We are but pilgrims; and the skin
That covers us, the tent wherein,
Awake or sleeping, we abide
Till death a dwelling-house provide.
...

The people read it as they pass:
'On Penalty, keep off the Grass!'
But from their graves, how long, alas,
Will Memory keep off the grass?
...

Am I awake? or do I dream?
To me forever moving seem
Alike the margin and the stream.
...

To his father said a bunny,
'Don't you find it rather funny
That we know so very little of our race?'
...

He slandered me; and I 'with eyes of fire,'
Like Collins' Anger, rose and struck the liar.
'You do me wrong,' he muttered with surprise.
...

I pause for tears. But thou, my lute,
Why art thou, like thy master, mute?
Hath harmony within thee bred
The hope thou hast interpreted?
...

My soul is as a fainting noonday star,
And thou, the absent night;
Haste, that thy healing shadow from afar
May touch me into light.
...

Ever old and ever new,
Else it never could be true.
Failing leaf and falling snow,
Budding germ and blossom glow,
...