C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
John Banister Tabb (18451909)
To the Wood-Robin
And blossoms swell
As leaps thy liquid melody along
The dusky dell,
Where Silence, late supreme, foregoes her wonted spell.
Hast learned the lore
That breeds delight in every echoing note
The woodlands o’er;
As when, through slanting sun, descends the quickening shower?
That gladden sleep;
Here Fancy dallies with delirious themes
Mid shadows deep,
Till eyes unused to tears, with wild emotions weep.
But thine remain.
Night weaves of golden harmonies the thread,
And fills thy brain
With joys that overflow in Love’s awakening strain.
Seek’st naught of praise;
The empty plaudits of the emptier heart
Taint not thy lays:
Thy Maker’s smile alone thy tuneful bosom sways.
Thy rhapsody;
Nor borne on vain ambition’s vaunting wing,
But led of thee,
To rise from earthly dreams to hymn Eternity.