 | Poems by John B. Tabb |  |
45
THE DOVE.
A tuneful mist above a silent sea
O'er which thou broodest, seems thy voice to me—
A moan of widowed memory above
A tideless depth of erst impetuous love.
O'er which thou broodest, seems thy voice to me—
A moan of widowed memory above
A tideless depth of erst impetuous love.
E'en as the main, thy circling monody
Upon the lone horizon meets the sky,
Where faintly flickers, in the distance far,
The afterglow of hope's departed star.
Upon the lone horizon meets the sky,
Where faintly flickers, in the distance far,
The afterglow of hope's departed star.
Pour forth, sweet bird, thy requiem; and lo!
Night's dreamy waves of sympathy o'erflow
To soothe thy pain; while thoughts, attuned to thine,
Melt into twilight tenderness divine.
Night's dreamy waves of sympathy o'erflow
To soothe thy pain; while thoughts, attuned to thine,
Melt into twilight tenderness divine.
| Poems by John B. Tabb | |