John Banister Tabb

1845-1909

 

Content

by John Banister Tabb

Were all the heavens an overladen bough
Of ripened benediction lowered above me,
What could I crave, soul-satisfied as now
That thou dost love me?

The door is shut. To each unsheltered Blessing
Henceforth I say, Depart! What would'st thou of me?
Beggared I am of want, this boon possessing,
That thou dost love me.

Source:

Poems
Copyright 1894
John Lane, LondonCopeland and Day, Boston
 
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