Deprecation Poem by John Bannister Tabb
Deprecation
Low, I listen in my grave
For the silence soon to be
When a slow-receding wave,
Hushed, is memory.
Now the falling of a tear
Or the breathing half-suppressed
Of a sigh, re-echoed here,
Holds me from my rest.
O, ye breakers of the past
From the never-resting deep,
On the coast of slumber cast,
Cease, and let me sleep.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
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4/19/2024 4:29:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
