What fruit of all thy blossom shed
Remaineth unto me?
"A dream, whereon thy Fancy fed,
Shall spin anon her golden thread,
And then, of fetters free,
Arise with radiant pinions spread,
To heights of Poesy."
Back to John Bannister Tabb
What fruit of all thy blossom shed
Remaineth unto me?
"A dream, whereon thy Fancy fed,
Shall spin anon her golden thread,
And then, of fetters free,
Arise with radiant pinions spread,
To heights of Poesy."
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