 | Later poems by John B. Tabb |  |
57
NIGHTFALL
Now, weary, one by one we lay
Aside the panoply of day;
And, like to little children, creep
Defenceless, to the arms of sleep.
Aside the panoply of day;
And, like to little children, creep
Defenceless, to the arms of sleep.
Our heads upon her bosom, soon
Forgotten are the cares of noon,
That, shorn of shadows, helpless lie
As Samson in captivity.
Forgotten are the cares of noon,
That, shorn of shadows, helpless lie
As Samson in captivity.
| Later poems by John B. Tabb | |