John Bannister Tabb

What fruit of all thy blossom shed
Remaineth unto me?
'A dream, whereon thy Fancy fed,
Shall spin anon her golden thread,
...

I came, O DEATH, to conquer thee,
And overcome the Grave;
But thou wast tenderer to me
Than those I sought to save.
...

Says the Shadow to the Sun,
'When the victory is done
All the world that thou hast won
Will be mine!'
...

The night that bore me to my dead,
Along the dreary way
The meadow-frogs in chorus said,
'We sing the vanished day;
...

Contrasts are striking, Teddy knows;
And so, for a variety,
The Black man to the White House goes,
Rough-riding o'er society.
...

The Star that watched you in your sleep
Has just put out his light.
'Good-day, to you on earth,' he said,
'Is here in heaven Good-night.
...

'Tis Nothingness that sunders me,
O God, from thine Eternity,
Wherein, a being yet to be,
I dwelt forever one with Thee,
...

Butterfly, Butterfly, sipping the sand,
Have you forgotten the flowers of the land?
Or are you so sated with honey and dew
...

Ours is the echoed cry
Of helpless Innocents about to die.
Remembering them
In Ramah, for the Lamb of Bethlehem
...

It was a very little Boy
That on the river side
Stood calling, 'Ferryman, ahoy!
Come, take me o'er the tide!'
...

A whole-tail dog, and a half-tail dog,
And a dog without a tail,
Went all three out on an autumn day
To follow a red-fox trail.
...

Of forthcoming weather no prophet have they,
For the ground hog is there to be seen every day.
...

Listen! 'tis the Rain
Coming home again;
Not as when he went away,
Silent, but in tears to say
...

Full many a heedless fellow-man
Had passed him on the way,
But Night, the Good Samaritan,
Beholding where he lay,
...

My sister Sunshine smiled on me,
And of my visage wrought a shade.
'Behold,' she cried, 'the mystery
Of which thou art afraid!
...

Another Mary seemest thou to me-
A rainbow span,
Twixt life and death a miracle, as she
Twixt God and Man.
...

With all the battles that he won
That brought him world-renown,
Imperious Napoleon
Could never keep us down.
...

'You give me no rest,' growled the Patient.
'I cannot,' retorted the Pill.
'In your stomach to be
Is so dreadful to me
...

Cries Death, 'O Man, thy liberty,
What boots it! Low thou bowest the knee
Subservient to masters three-
Thy conquerors-Pain, Age, and Me.
...

Dance to the beat of the rain, little Fern,
And spread out your palms again,
And say, 'Tho' the sun
Hath my vesture spun,
...