 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
LIV
I would some things were dead and hid,Well dead and buried deep as hell,
With recollection dead as well,
And resurrection God-forbid.
They irk me with their weary spell
Of fascination, eye to eye,
And hot, mesmeric, serpent-hiss,
Through all the dull, eternal days.
Let them turn by, go on their ways,
Let them depart or let me die;
For life is but a beggar's lie,
And as for death, I grin at it;
I do not care one whiff or whit
Whether it be or that or this.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |