By John Gneisenau Neihardt
First anthology of poems released by means of John G. Neihardt; good got.
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Extra resources for A Bundle of Myrrh
And yet-I cannot sleep for some dumb care Here in your hair. John G. Neihardt XXIII THE LYRIC NIGHT GIRL, if you could die before the dawn Makes shoddy this the garment of our dream, Above your shapely form of chiseled ice I could weep tears of gladness, seeing how The bitter freeze of death had chastened you I O But Day will come a-knocking at the blinds, Flooding the secret nooks of our delight, And all the gaud and tinsel of this dream Which now seems gold, shall be a mockery I The night lamp's glow, conniving at our joy, Shall struggle vainly with the virile Dawn, Sending a loathsome odor from its grease!
Forget the words meant only by my lips I Could you not understand The language of my fevered finger-tips When last you took my hand? 16 John G. Neihardt x IN AUTUMN D REAR, dull autumnal rain, Skies washed to gray; Winds sighing like an unfieshed ancient pain; Uncanny day 1 A time for tears and musings on the past, For vain regret; A time to dream of joys that could not last But mock us yet. A time to dream of winter and to mourn; To hear sad tunes; To yearn unto the far and shadowed bourne Of perished Junes.
2S A Bundle of Myrrh xv IN DEJECTION T HIS thing I hold so closely in my anns, Feeling its heart leap strongly at my kiss, Its eyes closed gendy like two cloud-veiled stars, Its. - This soft thing I hold so closely? Ah, head, like some pale flower asleep in shade, Ah, breast, at which my passionate hands have thrilled, o languid anns and white hands veined with blue, A litde while and these may be a lump To make me shudder with a dismal dread I o precious Thing of Flesh I Let me exhaust the softness of your cheek With one long desperate kiss, as one who drinks The final maddening drop before the cup Be shattered into dust I 0 let me breathe Your breath that I have made more quick and wann, As one who drowns and takes the latest gasp I The time may come when my fond touch shall fail To cause your sigh, and my hot kiss be vain To make your blue-veined temples throb as now.