 | Poems by John B. Tabb |  |
158
LOVE'S RETROSPECT.
I knew that he was dying; for the leaves
Late-fallen, shivered on the frosty ground,
Disconsolate, with the foreboding sound
That Autumn whispers to the heart that grieves.
The sunshine, slanting upward, smote the sheaves
O'ershadowing the hill-tops ranged around,
And where the swallow's empty nest was found,
Spattered, as if with blood, the sheltering eaves.
Late-fallen, shivered on the frosty ground,
Disconsolate, with the foreboding sound
That Autumn whispers to the heart that grieves.
The sunshine, slanting upward, smote the sheaves
O'ershadowing the hill-tops ranged around,
And where the swallow's empty nest was found,
Spattered, as if with blood, the sheltering eaves.
Twin fires together faded: and but one
Rewakened o'er a world henceforth to me
In everlasting twilight. To the Past
The Present pays its tribute, whereupon
Each moment coins the selfsame effigy,—
The more than all by wealth unwidowed cast.
Rewakened o'er a world henceforth to me
In everlasting twilight. To the Past
The Present pays its tribute, whereupon
Each moment coins the selfsame effigy,—
The more than all by wealth unwidowed cast.
| Poems by John B. Tabb | |