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Ah! Peace so precious must be bought with blood and tears...

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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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Poor Kid

Published by Susan on 08/09/2003 (2879 reads)
Mumsie and Dad are raven dark...

Mumsie and Dad are raven dark
       And I am lily blonde.
''Tis strange,' I once heard nurse remark,
       'You do not correspond.'
And yet they claim me as their own,
       Born of their flesh and bone.

To doubt their parenthood I dread,
       But now to girlhood grown,
The thought is haunting in my head
       That I am not their own:
If so, my radiant bloom of youth
       Would wither in the truth.

'Twould give me anguish deep to know
       A fondling babe was I;
And that a maid in wedless woe
       Left me to live or die:
I'd rather Mother lied and lied
       To save my pride.

I love them both and they love me;
       I am their all, they say.
Yet though the sweetest home have we,
       To know I'm theirs I pray.
If not, please dear ones, never tell . . .
       The truth would be of hell.

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