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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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My Chapel

Published by Susan on 08/09/2003 (3135 reads)
In idle dream with pipe in hand...

In idle dream with pipe in hand
    I looked across the Square,
And saw the little chapel stand
    In eloquent despair.
A ruin of the War it was,
    A dreary, dingy mess:
It worried me a lot because
    My hobby's happiness.

The shabby Priest said: 'You are kind.
    Time leaves us on the lurch,
And there are very few who mind
    Their duty to the Church.
But with this precious sum you give,
    I'll make it like a gem;
Poor folks will come, our altar live
    To comfort them.'

So now my chapel of despair
    Is full of joy and song;
I watch the humble go to prayer
    Although I don't belong.
An artist and agnostic I
    Possess but little pelf;
But oh what blessings it can buy
    Them--and myself!

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