Make me, dear Lord, polite and kind,
To everyone, I pray.
And may I ask you how you find
Yourself, dear Lord, today?

John B. Tabb

Mots clés poetry prayer

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Are ye the ghosts of fallen leaves, O flakes of snow, For which, through naked trees, the winds A-mourning go?

John B. Tabb

Mots clés winter fall snow autumn leaves snowflakes foliage

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