Indian Summer
by John Banister Tabb
Tis said, in death, upon the face
Of Age, a momentary trace
Of Infancy's returning grace
Forestalls decay;
And here, in Autumn's dusky reign,
A birth of blossom seems again
To flush the woodland's fading train
With dreams of May.
Note: Today is the anniversary of the death of the American poet and Catholic priest John Banister Tabb.
As featured onThe Daily Gardener podcast:
Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
John Banister Tabb
