My Most Ancient Bride Poem by John G. Nelson

Oh! To you my most ancient bride
Who causes depths to boil pride?
& just like the thorn from my past
All day & night hunger, greed last.

I, upon these dusts, I’m made to toil,
& let love & smile on your face boil.
Like counsels to yield patient & love
But days, nights sorrow & pain prove

Come outburst your anger upon me,
& love or hate me, these options be;
Come cloth me with your agony &fear;
Allow me to die, crying my old tears.

How mighty then you are, if you nag?
Pardon me if, the spirit of riches lag
For me, I kept holding on broken string,
&in these dark ages, I live my wed ring.

Neither cold affection nor much sorrow,
Comfort, soften our burning hearts below.
Cram with fear, I’ll die the night before
& I shall speak these quarrels no more.

John G. Nelson 2/6/2009