John Banister Tabb photo

John Banister Tabb


“Are ye the ghosts of fallen leaves, O flakes of snow, For which, through naked trees, the winds A-mourning go?”
John Banister Tabb
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“Make me, dear Lord, polite and kind, To everyone, I pray.And may I ask you how you find Yourself, dear Lord, today?”
John Banister Tabb
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