Poems by John B. Tabb | ||
26
LOVE'S HYBLA.
My thoughts fly to thee, as the bees
To find their favorite flower;
Then home, with honeyed memories
Of many a fragrant hour:
To find their favorite flower;
Then home, with honeyed memories
Of many a fragrant hour:
For with thee is the place apart
Where sunshine ever dwells,
The Hybla, whence my hoarding heart
Would fill its wintry cells.
Where sunshine ever dwells,
The Hybla, whence my hoarding heart
Would fill its wintry cells.
Poems by John B. Tabb | ||