Golden-Rod Poem by John Bannister Tabb
Golden-Rod
As Israel, in days of old,
Beneath the prophet's rod,
Amid the waters, backward rolled,
A path triumphant trod;
So, while thy lifted staff appears,
Her pilgrim steps to guide,
The Autumn journeys on, nor fears
The Winter's threatening tide.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: autumn,winter
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8/15/2026 9:23:38 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
