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Youth’s End

Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall 1883 (Gunnersbury, London) – 1922 (Vancouver)

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.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall, was a Canadian writer who was born in England but lived in Canada from the time she was seven. She was once "thought to be the best Canadian poet of her generation." more…

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