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The same old sprint in the morning, boys, to the same old din and smut...

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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.
All Entries 1997 - 2002
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Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (3377 reads)
With Beauty I have been in touch


With Beauty I have been in touch
    And lived with such delight,
I would not worry overmuch
    Were I to lose my sight.
For in the few moons left to me
    Sweet comfort I would find
And richer beauty I would see
    In vision of the mind.

Such melodies of ravishment
    have lingered in my ear,
I would not grievously lament
    Could I no longer hear;
For in this inner ear of mine
    Is music loved so long,
Its echo would be so divine
    That silence would be song.

Such plenitude I've known of love,
    Of children, wife and friend,
I would not curse the gods above
    If loveless in the end;
And though blind, deaf and lone I be,
    How I would count it bliss
Could I but write real poetry,
    Not silly rhymes like this!

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