 | [Poems by Tabb in] Father Tabb |  |
97
MATINS
Still sing the Morning Stars remote
With echoes now unheard,
Save in the scintillating note
Of some dawn-wakened bird
With echoes now unheard,
Save in the scintillating note
Of some dawn-wakened bird
Whose heart—a fountain in the light—
Prolongs the limpid strain
Till on the borderland of Night,
The Stars begin again.
Prolongs the limpid strain
Till on the borderland of Night,
The Stars begin again.
| [Poems by Tabb in] Father Tabb | |