Poems by John B. Tabb | ||
23
IN MY ORANGE-GROVE.
Orbs of Autumnal beauty, breathed to lightFrom blooms of May,
Rounded between the touch of lengthening night
And lessening day,
Flushed with the Summer fulness that the Spring
(Fair seer!) foretold,
The circle of three seasons compassing
In spheres of gold.
Poems by John B. Tabb | ||