A Hiding Place Poem by John Bannister Tabb
A Hiding Place
Where lies the lidded Sleep
Throughout the waking hours?
Beelike, in the honeyed deep
Of her favourite flowers,
Where the drowsy drops distil
Dreams, the coming night to fill,
Or, to soothe the weary brain,
Sweet forgetfulness of pain.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
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4/18/2024 6:19:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
