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Robert W Service - Words
Work rating: Medium

If on isle of the sea
          I have to tarry,
With one book, let it be
          A Dictionary.
For though I love life`s scene,
          It seems absurd,
My greatest joy has been
          The printed word.

Though painter with delight
          May colours blend,
They are but in his sight
          Means to an end.
Yet while I harmonise
          Or pattern them,
A precious word I prize
          Like to a gem.

A fiddler lures fine tone
          From gut and wood;
A sculptor from stark stone
          Shapes godlihood.
But let me just caress,
          Like silver birds,
For their own loveliness—
          Bewitching words.
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