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This poem is often wrongly thought to be by Robert W Service. It is published here to the memory of Hugh Antoine D'Arcy, its rightful father.
An Evening with the Bard of the Yukon, July 18 th 2003 at 20.30pm in the Town-Hall of Lancieux, Brittany.
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Bastard

Published by Webmaster on 07/26/2003 (2881 reads)
The very skies wee black with shame, As near my moment drew;

The very skies wee black with shame,
As near my moment drew;
The very hour before you came
I felt I hated you.

But now I see how fair you are,
How divine your eyes,
It seems I step upon a star
To leap to Paradise.

What care I who your father was:
('Twas better no to know);

You're mine and mine alone because
I love and love you so.

What though you only bear my name,
I hold my head on high;
For none shall have a right to claim
A right to you but I.

Because I've borne a human life,
I'm worthier, I know,
Than those who flaunt the name of wife,
And have no seed to show.

I have fulfilled, I think with joy,
My women's destiny;
And glad am I you are a boy,
For you will fight for me.

And maybe there will come a day
You'll bear a famous name,
And men will be ashamed to say:
"He was a child of shame."

A day will dawn, divinely free,
With love in every breast,
When every child will welcome be,
And every mother blest.

When every women, wed or no,
Will deem her highest good
On grateful mankind to bestow
The Gift of Motherhood.


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