Here you will find thePoemYouths Endof poet Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
I HAVE held my life too high, Spring and harvest, love and laughter, smile and sigh. I should have held it lightly, like a young leaf rent in haste From the willow in the waste. A moment in my fingers; then it fluttered, then it fled, A little flame of red, To the God-beholding desert where the soundless years go by,? I have held my life too high. I have held my death too dear, Shame or honour, peace or peril, pride or fear. I should have held it softly, as the little cloud that flies When the heron takes the skies. I should have held it kindly as a passing whisper,?'Friend, Here's the end, Here the silver cord is loosened and the bowl is broken here,'? But I held my death too dear.
