Our First-Born Poem by John Bannister Tabb
Our First-Born
It died so young! and yet,
Of all that vanished hence,
Is none to lingering regret
So lost as Innocence:
For wheresoe'er we go,
Whatever else remain,
That Favorite of Heaven, we know,
We shall not find again.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: heaven,innocence
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8/16/2026 11:09:23 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
