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While staying at the Ansonia Hotel in New York City Mr. Service drafted on nine pages of the hotel stationary his poem, The Faceless Man. It is written in pencil.

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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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At the Parade

Published by Susan on 08/09/2003 (2874 reads)
I cannot flap a flag...

I cannot flap a flag
        Or beat a drum;
Behind the mob I lag
        With larynx dumb;
Alas! I fear I'm not
        A Patriot.

With acrid eyes I see
        The soul of things;
And equal unto me
        Are cooks and kings;
I would not cross the street
        A duke to meet.

Oh curse me for a fool
        To be so proud;
To stand so still and cool
        Amid the crowd.
For President or Peer
        God, let me cheer!

But no, despite the glee
        My heart is cold;
I think that it may be
        Because I'm old;
I'm dumb where millions yell . . .
        Oh what the hell!

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