Author John Banister Tabb I SAT with chill December Beside the evening fire. " And what do you remember, " I ventured to inquire, " Of seasons long forsaken? " He answered in amaze, " My age you have mistaken: I've lived but thirty days . " Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments