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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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Moon Song

Published by Susan on 08/09/2003 (4494 reads)
The sky is like a vasty cup...

The sky is like a vasty cup
Of violet, and staring up,
Plumb in the middle like a spoon
Of silver I behold the moon.
It looks so cute, so cool, so calm,
As if id did not care a damn
For human worms the likes of us, -
I really don't suppose it does.

"Alas, poor man!" it seems to say;
"Alack, the hapless human race!
Frail creatures of an empty day,
Who come and go and leave no trace!
I knew your world before you were;
I'll know it when you cease to be;
And by my scorn you may infer
My sense of your futility."

Then to the moon I made reply:
"Of course I see your point of view,
Just now you dominate the sky,
But one day we'll be boss of you.
We scan you through a mighty glass,
Of your geography, recorders,
And one day it will come to pass
We'll run excursions to your boarders.

"Yes, Mister Moon, you've got us right,
And yet I think you will agree,
Our transitoriness despite,
That clever little brutes are we,
We may be vapid, vague and vain;
Our species may be doomed to cease . . .
Yes, Moon, salute the human brain,
Creation's masterpiece!

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