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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 (3771 reads)
When care and sorrow fret the brow


When care and sorrow fret the brow
        And weary is the head,
It's mighty soothing, you'll allow,
        To just flop down in bed.
When you have little sweet to say,
        And long to be alone,
It helps a lot to drift away
        Into oblivion.

And when from life at last you creep,
        So fed up with it all,
What comfort it must be to sleep
        With face turned to the wall!
To know your woe and care are past,
        And with a heart at peace,
To throw life's burdens off at last
        In merciful release.

Oh! Sleep and death are brothers twain
        Who differ in degree;
From Sleep you wake to woe again,
        And no escape may be.
For Sleep is just a gentle pause
        That may brief solace bring -
But Death - how blessed is! Because
        There's no awakening.

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