The Tree-Frog Pedigree
Our great ancestor, Polly Wog,
With her cousin, Thaddeus Pole,
Eloped from her home in an Irish bog,
And crossing the sea on the 'Mayflower's' log,
At the risk of body and soul,
Married a Frog; and thus, you see,
How we come by a place in the family-tree
And the family name, Tree-frog.
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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Grief-Song
New grief, new tears;-
Brief the reign of sorrow;
Clouds that gather with the night
Scatter on the morrow.
Old grief, old tears;-
Come and gone together;
Not a fleck upon the sky
Telling whence or whither.
Old grief, new tears;-
Deep to deep is calling:
Life is but a passing cloud
Whence the rain is falling.
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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Amid The Roses
There was laughter 'mid the Roses,
For it was their natal day;
And the children in the garden were
As light of heart as they.
There were sighs amid the Roses,
For the night was coming on;
And the children-weary now of play-
Were ready to be gone.
There are tears amid the Roses,
For the children are asleep;
And the silence of the garden makes
The lonely blossoms weep.
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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Christ's Little Sister
Little Sister of the Poor,
Asking alms from door to door,
Ever on you go;
Clothed in the garb of meekness,
Finding strength in others' weakness,
Soothing others' woe.
Little Sister of the Poor,
Rich in patience to endure
Stern Redemption's load;
Cold and rain and parching heat
Hinder not heroic feet
On the Royal Road.
Little Sister of the Poor,
When your weary day is o'er
Rest there may not be;
For the aged, sick, and needy
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poem by John Bannister Tabb
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The New-Year Babe
Two together, Babe and Year,
At the midnight chime,
Through the darkness drifted here
To the coast of Time.
Two together, Babe and Year,
Over night and day,
Crossed the desert Winter drear
To the land of May.
On together, Babe and Year
Swift to Summer passed.
'Rest a moment, Brother dear,'
Said the Babe at last.
'Nay, but onward,' answered Year,
'We must farther go,
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poem by John Bannister Tabb
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St Mary Of Egypt
Strong to suffer, strong to sin,
Loving much, and much forgiven,
In the desert realm a queen,
Penance-crowned, to cope with Heaven,
Solitude alone could be
Room enough for God and thee.
Long the vigil, stern the fast;
Morn, with night's anointing, chill;
Noon with passion overcast;
Night with phantoms fouler still;
Prayer and penitential tears
Battling with the lust of years.
Low upon the parching sand,
Shrivelled in the blight of day,
As beneath a throbbing brand
Prone thy ghastly shadow lay,
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poem by John Bannister Tabb
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