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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
All Entries 2002
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Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (3951 reads)
Sweet God! What a heavenly morning!


Sweet God! What a heavenly morning!
    Was ever a sunrise so fair!
How golden the gorse is adoring.
    The hill; hark the lark in the air!
And yet, no delight I exhibit,
    But wistfully look at the sky. . . .
For here I am under a gibbet
                    Preparing to die.

To die when the year's in its glory,
    When earth is exultant with glee;
To come to the end of my story
    When gladness is all that I see.
When praise of God's handiwork hallows
    With rapture one's every breath,
To pause on the brink of the gallows,
                    Awaiting my death.

A traitor my enemies call me,
    A hero am I to my friends.
No matter: Whatever befall me
    In heaven or hell, here it ends.
My patriot heart is un-baffled,
    Though doomed to defeat is my hope,
As proudly I stand on the scaffold
                    My neck in the rope.

I'm hearing the bells in the steeple;
    My murderers foul I forgive.
I go with the prayers of my people,
    I die that my country may live.
My eyes on the sweet sun are steady,
    My heart is alift to the sky. . . .
"Right O, Mister Hangman, I'm ready."
                    "Sir Roger, goodbye."

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