John Banister Tabb

1845-1909

 

Westward

by John Banister Tabb

And dost thou lead him hence with thee,
O setting sun,
And leave the shadows all to me
When he is gone?
Ah, if my grief his guerdon be,
My dark his light,
I count each loss felicity,
And bless the night.

Source:

Poems
Copyright 1894
John Lane, LondonCopeland and Day, Boston
 
Link To This Page