 | Poems by John B. Tabb |  |
48
THE REAPER.
Tell me whither, maiden June,
Down the dusky slope of noon
With thy sickle of a moon,
Goest thou to reap.
Down the dusky slope of noon
With thy sickle of a moon,
Goest thou to reap.
“Fields of Fancy by the stream
Of night in silvery silence gleam,
To heap with many a harvest-dream
The granary of Sleep.”
Of night in silvery silence gleam,
To heap with many a harvest-dream
The granary of Sleep.”
| Poems by John B. Tabb | |