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In youth I gnawed life's bitter rind...

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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

The Anniversary

Published by Susan on 08/02/2003 (2204 reads)
"This bunch of violets," he said...

"This bunch of violets," he said,
        "Is for my daughter dear.
Since that glad morn when she was wed
        It is today a year.
She lives atop this flight of stairs--
        Please give an arm to me:
If we can take her unawares
              How glad she'll be!"

We climbed the stairs; the flight was four,
        Our steps were stiff and slow;
But as he reached his daughter's door
        His eyes were all aglow.
Joylike he raised his hand to knock,
        Then sore distressed was I,
For from the silence like a shock
              I heard a cry.

A drunken curse, a sob of woe . . .
        His withered face grew grey.
"I think," said he, "we'd better go
        And come another day."
And as he went a block with me,
        Walking with weary feet,
His violets, I sighed to see,
             Bestrewed the street.


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