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He burned a hole in frozen muck, He pierced the icy mould,

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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

Anonymous

Published by Susan on 08/10/2003 (5762 reads)
When at the sign: Anthology...

When at the sign: Anthology
    I climbed aboard the lyric bus,
The poems that appeal to me
    Are often by Anonymous.
Behold amid the classic crew
    Is one of whom Fame made no fuss,
A rhyming rascal no one knew, -
                    Anonymous.

My name's a dud: 'mid poets I'm
    A leek among asparagus;
Yet let me make a lilt of rhyme
    And publish it anonymous;
Sweet, simple, short, a snatch of song
    Anthologists might prize, and thus
My lyric life I might prolong, -
                    Anonymous.

So when senile and all forgot
    My memory is minimus,
In some anthology new-bought
    I'll read a rhyme anonymous:
A saucy air that pleaseth me,
    And I will say: "Who is this cuss?"
And wonder: "Are you he or she, -
                    Anonymous?"


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