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I count each day a little life,

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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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Sympathy

Published by Susan on 08/09/2003 (2450 reads)
My Muse is simple,--yet it's nice...

My Muse is simple,--yet it's nice
To think you don't need to think twice
               On words I write.
I reckon I've a common touch
And if you say I cuss too much
               I answer: 'Quite!'

I envy not the poet's lot;
He has something I haven't got,
               Alas, I know.
But I have something maybe he
Would envy just a mite in me,--
               I'm rather low .

For I am cast of common clay,
And from a ditch I fought my way,
               And that is why
The while the poet scans the skies,
My gaze is grimly gutterwise,
               Earthy am I.

And yet I have a gift, perhaps
Denied to proud poetic chaps
               Who scoff at me;
I know the hearts of humble folk;
I too have bowed beneath the yoke:
So let my verse for them evoke
               Your sympathy.

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