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Robert W Service - My Garret
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Here is my Garret up five flights of stairs;
Here`s where I deal in dreams and ply in fancies,
Here is the wonder-shop of all my wares,
My sounding sonnets and my red romances.
Here`s where I challenge Fate and ring my rhymes,
And grope at glory — aye, and starve at times.

Here is my Stronghold: stout of heart am I,
Greeting each dawn as songful as a linnet;
And when at night on yon poor bed I lie
(Blessing the world and every soul that`s in it),
Here`s where I thank the Lord no shadow bars
My skylight`s vision of the valiant stars.

Here is my Palace tapestried with dreams.
Ah! though to-night ten sous are all my treasure,
While in my gaze immortal beauty gleams,
Am I not dowered with wealth beyond all measure?
Though in my ragged coat my songs I sing,
King of my soul, I envy not the king.

Here is my Haven: it`s so quiet here;
Only the scratch of pen, the candle`s flutter;
Shabby and bare and small, but O how dear!
Mark you — my table with my work a-clutter,
My shelf of tattered books along the wall,
My bed, my broken chair — that`s nearly all.

Only four faded walls, yet mine, all mine.
Oh, you fine folks, a pauper scorns your pity.
Look, where above me stars of rapture shine;
See, where below me gleams the siren city . . .
Am I not rich? — a millionaire no less,
If wealth be told in terms of Happiness.
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