1. John Banister Tabb
Quatrains

The bubble
why should I stay? Nor seed nor fruit have I.
  But, sprung at once to beauty’s perfect round,
  Nor loss, nor gain, nor change in me is found,—
A life—complete in death—complete to die.

BECALMED
THE BAR is crossed; but Death—the pilot—...

Poet: John Banister Tabb
Indian Summer

No more the battle or the chase
  The phantom tribes pursue,
But each in its accustomed place
  The Autumn hails anew:
And still from solemn councils set
  On every hill and plain,
The smoke of many a calumet
  Ascends to heaven again.
Poet: John Banister Tabb
The Water-Lily

Whence, O fragrant form of light,
Hast thou drifted through the night,
Swanlike, to a leafy nest,
On the restless waves, at rest?

Art thou from the snowy zone
Of a mountain-summit blown,
Or the blossom of a dream,
Fashioned in the foamy...

Poet: John Banister Tabb