Here you will find thePoemEpiphany: (For Dora, 1918)of poet Katharine Tynan
She carried frankincense and gold When the Star guided her, And in her folded hands so cold She carried myrrh. Frankincense for the praise she owed, Gold for her gift was meet, But myrrh because so oft her road Was bitter-sweet. Lay her tired body in that earth Was holy to her mind! But the bird-soul flies in high mirth, Borne on the wind. It tosses in the Irish skies Awhile, so small and white, Ere it is gone -- swiftly it flies Into the light. She has gone in with the Three Kings, In silk and miniver; The gold, the frankincense she brings, The sharp-sweet myrrh.
