The Gleaner Poem by John Bannister Tabb
The Gleaner
Lo, silence, like a roving bee
Upon her daily round,
To fill the hive of memory
Despoils each blossom-sound,
And winters, as the past devours
Whate'er the present yields,
The promise of immortal flowers
For time's unfallowed fields.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: flowers,memory,silence
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8/15/2026 12:59:26 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
