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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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Odds and Ends, Other Items Of Interest About Robert

The Actor

Published by Susan on 08/08/2003 (2532 reads)
Enthusiastic was the crowd...

Enthusiastic was the crowd
    That hailed him with delight;
The wine was bright, the laughter loud
    And glorious the night.
But when at dawn he drove away
    With echo of their cheer,
To where his little daughter lay,
    Then he knew-- Fear.

How strangely still the house! He crept
    On tip-toe to the bed;
And there she lay as if she slept
    With candles at her head.
Her mother died to give her birth,
    An angel child was she;
To him the dearest one on earth . . .
    How could it be?

'O God! If she could only live,'
    He thought with bitter pain,
'How gladly, gladly would I give
    My glory and my gain.
I have created many a part,
    And many a triumph known;
Yet here is one with breaking heart
    I play alone.'

Beside the hush of her his breath
    Came with a sobbing sigh.
He babbled: 'Sweet, you play at death . . .
    'Tis I who die.'

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