Patience Worth was allegedly a spirit contacted by Pearl Lenore Curran (February 15, 1883–December 4, 1937). This symbiotic relationship produced several novels, poetry and prose which Pearl Curran claimed was delivered to her through channelling the spirit, Patience Worth.
About Pearl Curran
Curran was born Pearl Lenore Pollard in Mound City, Illinois. The family moved to ... more »
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Patience Worth Poems
To game is to live. When thee ceasest to game, then youth is gone. 'Tis the heritage of youth, left to age only as a memory. Youth leaps with joy
Grace of gentleness
No thing engraces the day like gentleness. I may see gaudy noons and flaming mornings And gorgeous eves, but none of these Appeal like some wood-thatched bower where A lone bird mourned, or perhaps a hedge Whence some song burst, or still sunlight Scratched by blossoms.
Heart of mine
Heart of mine, bruised as a bird In a wicker, beating that it free! Heart of mine! Heart of mine! I would soothe thee. I would sing such lays,
Who Said That Love Was Fire?
I know that love is ash. It is the thing which remains When the fire is spent, The holy essence of experience.
Dream, dream, thou flesh of me, Dream thou next my breast. Dream, dream, and coax the stars To light thee at thy rest.
March 8th, 1920
Behold, with my naked hands did I part my ribs, Baring my heart in a basin of scarlet. Into this did I plunge my quill, Drawing it forth pulsing, each drop warm.
I, thy child forever play About thy knees this close of day. Within thy arms I now shall creep, And learn Thy wisdom while I sleep
Oh ye mighty walls and towering spires astride the cowled gabled ways! Thy emblazoned scripts depicting fanciful reaction of ancient times; Smoking altars upon which yellow candles flare, burning the sacred air, To send aloft a pungent scent of mouldering decay,
The Veiled Princess
You who behold me know me not, For while thou dost commune With my fellowship, I am apart from thee. My spirit basks confidently
There is a busy spider weaving webs, Hanging my understanding with Impenetrable mysteries- - Intricately woven.
Ever The Pupil
Teach me. Teach me! Let me never become so old That my ears are not pits. Teach me. Teach me!
How long I sat before that slender goblet, knowing well that I must sup! How long I sat in wonderment! Fragile was I, and fearful, my lips thirsting for the contact, my will strong, my desire beckoning me. Yet before me was the wine untouched, and I shrank, fearful that I lay my lips upon its brim. And the hot winds rose and enwrapped me, and my tongue was parched and my thirst was sore, and the goblet
Bairn O'My Heart
Bairn o' my heart, art lonely? Weary and wonder-eyed at the day? Bairn o' my heart, art lonely? Soulworn and tired o' play?
Lend to my lips, O lord, a key, With which to unlock the hearts of men. Make my word become no less mine- - But wholly Thine! In this I may feel secure
Comments about Patience Worth
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
To game is to live.
When thee ceasest to game, then youth is gone.
'Tis the heritage of youth, left to age only as a memory.
Youth leaps with joy
Like a young fawn plunging expectant.
Urged with valor, itched with desire,
He flings him like a discus toward life.
'Tis a leap and a wager with life,
Until Age hath come, and he knows then