John Bannister Tabb Poems

To-night, far inland from the sea,
The winds, a frighted Legion, flee
With wailings of distress;
While Cataracts from many a steep
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'Twas August: and a Gypsy Breeze
Came wandering thro' the wood.
'Our fortunes!' cried the lover Trees
That first before her stood.
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Since that the unfulfilled desire of Shame
Meets the full-measured blame,
So must the prayer that missed the deed of Love
Find recompense above.
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The tints that fly the autumn leaves,
The leaves that fly the tree,
Anon the Wizard Winter weaves
In blossoms yet to be.
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Genevieve was all to me,
Heart to heart we toiled together;
Shade in summer heat was she,
Sunshine in the cloudy weather.
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As one who in the hush of twilight hears
The pausing pulse of Nature, when the Light
Commingles in the dim mysterious rite
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Back to the primal gloom
Where life began,
As to my mother's womb
Must I a man
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Ay, every day the rain doth fall,
And every day doth rise:
'T is thus the heavens incessant call,
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All night a rose, with budding warmth aglow,
Above a sleeper's dreamful visage hung,
Pale with intenser passion than the tongue
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Of reprobates the beaver seems
The saddest in creation,
His every instinct kindling dreams
To work for his dam-nation.
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