Regret Poem by John Bannister Tabb

Regret



What pleading passion of the dark
Hath left the Morning pale?
She listens! ''T is, alas, the Lark,
And not the Nightingale!
O for the gloom-encircled sphere,
Whose solitary bird
Outpours for Love's awakening ear
What noon hath never heard!'

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