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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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Time's Tyrrany

Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (2427 reads)
The spires of the Escurial

Time's Tyrrany

The spires of the Escurial
    Leap lovely to the sky
And in pride immemorial
    Time's tyrrany defy;
While down in darkness boreal
    The Kings and Consorts lie.

Their marble tombs are white as snow,
    And fine like sculptured lace;
And yet, each carven lid below,
    With grinning skull for face,
Are skeletons that stink, I know,
    Despite their royal race.

We tourists stopped to stand and state,
    And while the guide extolled,
Within that human frigidaire
    The French dame, camisoled
Too flimsily, went green I swear,
    Goose-puckered   with the cold.

I shivered too, but not with chill;
    I thought of all that line
Of Mighty Majesties so still,
    Of skeletons supine,
Whose skulls grin up - even as will
    In due course - yours and mine.


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