Dr. M. Slade Kendrick 225 Willard Way Ithaca, New York 14850
Dear Slade:

It was good to hear from you after too long a silence. Naturally, I am delighted to know that ALL IS BUT A BEGINNING reached you. Your comments are especially interesting. You speak of my father, and I think you would understand him better than might be supposed. When I began writing the book, I had only fragmentary knowledge of him. I never quite understood him, but he certainly loved me althought he had a silent way of showing it. But as the book proceeded and I fitted the fragments into a mosaic unintentionally, I found that a man of a very definite personality emerged, and as a result I liked him better.

You would be interested to know that the United Artists is bringing out the first album of my poetry on September 16. There should be as many as 12 albums.

I wish you could visit Bancroft during Neihardt Day in August — the first Sunday in August. We had a wonderful time this year — 700 people turned up, and there is every indication that it is a going concern, not merely around Bancroft or the Middle West but reaching out far and wide. The National Observer recently had an article on a hitchiker from the west who was bound for the Neihardt Day celebration.

Thanks for sending me your friend's poetry. He certainly has beautiful poetic ideas, and I intend to read him more as soon as I am free to do so. My eyes are not too good.

I am afraid there is little hope of finding a publisher for poetry.

It's really astonishing how BLACK ELK SPEAKS and WHEN THE TREE FLOWERED have been selling. BLACK ELK is translated into nine foreign tongues and is selling all over the United States as well as principal nations of Europe. In three months WHEN THE TREE FLOWERED sold 115,000 copies. I don't understand it but it is pleasing because the success of the books cannot be attributed to sensationalism.

How is your health, Slade, and how is your good lady? It has been too long since I saw you last.

Oh, I forgot to tell you Val Peterson gave the principal speech at the Neihardt celebration, and it was a wonderful speech. He has been Ambassador to Denmark and Norway and for two years he served Nebraska as Governor.

Do plan to come out and see us next August. Why not?

With the old affection,

John Neihardt John Neihardt
Deep lies night
Muted and mellow
Radiant with mist
Bathed in moonlight
Amid its magic
My heart swiftly arches
Greeting purple shades
Embracing the wonder
Enfolding love's promise
Yearning towards fulfillment.
Deep lies night
Do you feel its call
Do you hear its song
Flush in its beauty
Ache in its glow
Seeking for contentment
Longing for quiet union
Muted and mellow it lies
Deep still night.
In eternity stand I
Attuned to Heaven and Hell
Wistfully reminicentreminiscent of love
Bitterly reflective of hate.
It comes, the melancholy,
Hauntingly twisted
Saluting night's misted depths.
Where lies the quest
Screamingly lost and riddled
In dreams of nevermore.
Where flies my soul
Smotheringly shattered
Wandering murky shadows.
Be these life's tokens?
Be these birth's promises?
Amid eternity's Heaven and Hell
Stand I, waiting and wondering.
Look not backwards from whence you came
Never reflected on yesterday's anguished pain
Tho' the past be white or with crimson stain
Only today —— now and forever can reign.
So gaze evermore upwards
To where the wild wind runs free
Through the valley, onwards to the sea
Heeding only its song of restless serenity.
My heart lies cold and empty as stone
So I take your spirit to be my own
With tender touch, I caress your face
OutlingingOutlining each curve, sensitive with grace
In your eyes, I see the soft dear light
Which warms my endless lonely night
Wild winds no longer rack my form
Your soul comforts my ruthless storm.
Goodbye, Summer's sweet kiss
Farewell, dusky moonlit nights
I forget thee not, SwummerSummer love,
Your teasing touch will haunt me evermore.
Rolling tides washed in moonlight
Dawn's crashing breathless wonderment
Trembling twilights laced in lavender
To these, I pledge my eternal thoth.
Come with me to the summits
Trail daybreak's brilliant cliffs
Search dusk's delicate valleys
Oh, take my hand across Summer's path.
Goodbye sweet Summer's kiss
Farewell dusky moonlit nights
I forget thee not, Summer love
Forever, your teasing touch will haunt me.
Cascading through the night
My soul plunges in furious flight
Searching, seeking the murky light
Answers to my questing plight.
Soaring with hastening speed
Praying my heart to be freed
From others pettiness and greed
Releasing my spirit's restless steed.
Night's melody teases me
Midnight's cloak hangs free
Only burning fires do I see
Haunted my being will ever be.
Steep in sin, the restless ghetto sleeps
In Hell's triumph, the bloodwashed rats roam
Dancing an infested plague 'neath the moon
As the smothering city yawns unknowinlyunknowingly.
Far away sobs a rumbling train
Spelling deeper the night's lament
From the docks steals the fog
Enfolding the squander with lace.
From which lost valley, did it come
This hate-riddled ghetto ode,
The bloodstained sonnet,;
The sad lost honor.
Ravage and lost
Empty and barren
Desolately slaughtered
Rides the spirit
Across the endless skies
With unseeing eyes
Recklessly plunging
Night's lonely depths
Bleeding and cringing
From yesterday's Hell
Faithless in tomorrow.
But tomorrow comes
Breathing softly
Over hued waters
Sighing tenderly
With rosed blush
Caressingly delicate
Conquering the void
Binding the wounds
Kissing the soul.
The spirit has a restless sea
It calls to the mountains
And sings to the valleys
Searching eternity's halls
For the questing fulfillment.
The soul has an endless void
Yearning to find its peace
Longing to possess love
Roaming the night skies
Within its mystical voyage.
The heart runs and falls
Amid the mires of disappointment
Following each beckoning light
Treading each murky lowlands
In sobbing lament, finding nought.
But passion reigns supreme
In the lost labyrinth, she stands
Undaunted and queenly with promise
As beyond the restless sea she calls
And the dying ember becomes a flame.