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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
Odds and Ends, Other Items Of Interest About Robert


Published by Susan on 08/10/2003 (4283 reads)
Though my senses serve me well...

Though my senses serve me well,
For delicacy, give me Smell.

The perfume of a bank of thyme,
Milk-heavy kine at homing time;
The burn of brush in Autumn air,
Green pippins piled for Winter care;
The tang of wrack at low of tide,
Blythe new-mown hay on meadow side.

Crisp bacon on the blaze to fry,
Old ale in tankard foaming high;
Aroma sweet of baking break,
Rich onion soup for super spread;
Roast beans of coffee, newly ground,
A morning kipper, buttered, browned.

The perfume of a silken slip,
The salty odour of a ship;
Morocco leather, Harris tweed,
The acrid air of stabled steed;
The pungency of paint and tar,
The fragrance of a fine cigar.

A piny wood, a clover lea,
A hawthorn hedge, a rosary;
A clump of wallflower, dewy wet,
And frankincense and mignonette...
But sweeter than them all, I swear,
The scent of Shiela's shampooed hair.

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