| Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (18691948). The Little Book of Modern Verse. 1917. |
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| 120. When I Have Gone Weird Ways |
| | | By John G. Neihardt |
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| WHEN I have finished with this episode, | |
| Left the hard, uphill road, | |
| And gone weird ways to seek another load, | |
| Oh, friends, regret me not, nor weep for me, | |
| Child of Infinity! | 5 |
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| Nor dig a grave, nor rear for me a tomb | |
| To say with lying writ: Here in the gloom | |
| He who loved bigness takes a narrow room, | |
| Content to pillow here his weary head, | |
| For he is dead. | 10 |
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| But give my body to the funeral pyre, | |
| And bid the laughing fire, | |
| Eager and strong and swift, like my desire, | |
| Scatter my subtle essence into space, | |
| Free me of time and place. | 15 |
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| And sweep the bitter ashes from the hearth, | |
| Fling back the dust I borrowed from the earth | |
| Into the chemic broil of death and birth, | |
| The vast alembic of the cryptic scheme, | |
| Warm with the master-dream. | 20 |
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| And thus, O little house that sheltered me, | |
| Dissolve again in wind and rain, to be | |
| Part of the cosmic weird economy. | |
| And, Oh, how oft with new life shalt thou lift | |
| Out of the atom-drift! | 25 |
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