John Bannister Tabb Poems

Ye Angels, lo, an angel unto you,
His Guardians, I commend.
Behold him, white in baptismal dew,
Nor blush to call him friend.
...

O little bird, I'd be
A Poet like to thee,
Singing my native song-
Brief to the ear, but long
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Am I the only child awake
Beneath thy midnight beams?
If so, for gentle Slumber's sake,
The brighter be their dreams!
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Nurtured upon my Mother's knee,
From this, her mountain breast, apart;
Here nearer heaven I seem to be,
And closer to her heart.
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Lo, where the blooming woodland wakes
O where, the blooming woodland wakes
From wintry slumbers long,
Thy heart, a bud of silence, breaks
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I bide mine hour, when thou,
Beloved, far away,
As unto sleep shalt bow
Submissive to my sway.
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When Georgie would not go to bed,
If some one asked him why,
'What is the use?' he gravely said,
'You know I cannot lie.'
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We sighed of old till underneath His feet
Our pulses beat,
Again to sigh in restlessness until
He saith, 'Be still.'
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O comrade Sun, that day by day
Dost weave a shadow on my way,
Lest, in the luxury of light,
My soul forget the neighboring night:-
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And dost thou lead him hence with thee
O setting sun,
And leave the shadows all to me
When he is gone?
...