DIY History | Transcribe | World War I Diaries and Letters | Conger Reynolds correspondence, March 1-17, 1918 | 1918-03-08 Daphne Reynolds to Conger Reynolds Page 8

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Conger Reynolds correspondence, March 1-17, 1918

1918-03-08 Daphne Reynolds to Conger Reynolds Page 8

line, I suppose you haven't time for them, but do remember this lovely one! Lemme see - Maybe I forgot it. 
Oh that my soul a marrow-bone might seize! 
For the old egg of my desire is broken, Spilled is the pearly white and spilled the yolk, and 
As the mild melancholy contents grease my path, the shorn lamb baas like bumblebees, 
Time's trashy purse is as a taken token Or, like a thrilling recitation, spoken 
By mournful mouthfuls filled of mirth and cheese. 
And yet, why should I clasp the earthful urn? 
Or find the frittered fig that felt the fast? Or choose to chase the cheese around the churn? 
Or swallow any pill from out the past? Ah, no Love, not while your hot kisses burn 
Like a potato riding on the blast. 
This one was called a "Sonnet found in a Deserted Madhouse." You never did send that book to "Red." did you? And I don't know his nyme so I can't sent it. Did I tell you that Trix gave us a butter knife & sugar spoon? Not in our pattern but very pretty, nohow, contrawise. 
I'm just having a fit. I suppose you can tell it, but I haven't had a book in my hands for a monkey's aye, and I'm

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line, I suppose you haven't time for them, but do remember this lovely one! Lemme see - Maybe I forgot it. Oh that my soul a marrow-bone might seize! For the old egg of my desire is broken, Spilled is the pearly white and spilled the yolk, and As the mild melancholy contents grease my path, the shorn lamb baas like bumblebees, Time's trashy purse is as a taken token Or, like a thrilling recitation, spoken By mournful mouthfuls filled of mirth and cheese. And yet, why should I clasp the earthful urn? Or find the frittered fig that felt the fast? Or choose to chase the cheese around the churn? Or swallow any pill from out the past? Ah, no Love, not while your hot kisses burn Like a potato riding on the blast. This one was called a "Sonnet found in a Deserted Madhouse." You never did send that book to "Red." did you? And I don't know his nyme so I can't sent it. Did I tell you that Trix gave us a butter knife & sugar spoon? Not in our pattern but very pretty, nohow, contrawise. I'm just having a fit. I suppose you can tell it, but I haven't had a book in my hands for a monkey's aye, and I'm