The Omen Poem by John Bannister Tabb
The Omen
He crept behind me, and his gentle hand
Laid on my lids, lest I too soon should see
The face in all the world most dear to me.
The meaning then I did not understand.
But now that he is vanished, I have guessed
The import of the far foreshadowed sign:
For closer than was his the hand Divine
Is tenderly upon mine eyelids pressed.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
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8/14/2025 11:05:30 AM # 1.0.0
