 | Later poems by John B. Tabb |  |
86
THE GRAVE-DIGGER
Here underneath the sod,
Where night till now hath been,
With every lifted clod
I let the sunshine in.
Where night till now hath been,
With every lifted clod
I let the sunshine in.
How dark soe'er the gloom
Of Death's approaching shade,
The first within the tomb
Is light, that cannot fade.
Of Death's approaching shade,
The first within the tomb
Is light, that cannot fade.
And from the deepest grave
I banish it in vain;
For, like a tidal wave,
Anon 'twill come again.
I banish it in vain;
For, like a tidal wave,
Anon 'twill come again.
| Later poems by John B. Tabb | |