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.
Youth-s End
Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Poem topics: cloud, fear, friend, god, laughter, peace, pride, red, silver, smile, spring, young, moment, whisper, flame, broken, shame, waste, desert, death, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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