John B. Tabb - Poems

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And pray, who are you?"
Said the Violet blue
To the Bee, with surprise,
At his wonderful size,
In her eyeglass of dew.
"I, madam," quoth he,
"Am a publican Bee,
Collecting the tax
Of honey and wax.
Have you nothing for me?

John B. Tabb

He entered; but the mask he wore
Concealed his face from me.
Still, something I had seen before
He brought to memory. "Who art thou? What thy rank, thy name?"
I questioned, with surprise;
"Thyself" the laughing answer came,
"As seen of others' eyes."

John B. Tabb

Are ye the ghosts of fallen leaves,
O flakes of snow,
For which, through naked trees, the winds
A-mourning go?

John B. Tabb

A flash of harmless lightning, A mist of rainbow dyes, The burnished sunbeams brightening From flower to flower he flies.

John B. Tabb