 | Later poems by John B. Tabb |  |
40
DEPRECATION
Low, I listen in my grave
For the silence soon to be
When a slow-receding wave,
Hushed, is memory.
For the silence soon to be
When a slow-receding wave,
Hushed, is memory.
Now the falling of a tear
Or the breathing half-suppressed
Of a sigh, re-echoed here,
Holds me from my rest.
Or the breathing half-suppressed
Of a sigh, re-echoed here,
Holds me from my rest.
O, ye breakers of the past
From the never-resting deep,
On the coast of slumber cast,
Cease, and let me sleep.
From the never-resting deep,
On the coast of slumber cast,
Cease, and let me sleep.
| Later poems by John B. Tabb | |