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Home  »  An American Anthology, 1787–1900  »  958 Quatrains

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By John BanisterTabb

958 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—stands

In seeming doubt before the tranquil deep;

The fathom-line still trembling in his hands,

As when upon the treacherous shoals of sleep.

FAME

THEIR noonday never knows

What names immortal are:

’T is night alone that shows

How star surpasseth star.