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 | Poems by John B. Tabb |  |
75
INDIAN SUMMER.
'Tis said, in death, upon the face
Of Age, a momentary trace
Of Infancy's returning grace
Forestalls decay;
Of Age, a momentary trace
Of Infancy's returning grace
Forestalls decay;
And here, in Autumn's dusky reign,
A birth of blossom seems again
To flush the woodland's fading train
With dreams of May.
A birth of blossom seems again
To flush the woodland's fading train
With dreams of May.
| Poems by John B. Tabb | |