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Robert W Service - Boon Soul
Work rating: Low

Behold! I`m old; my hair is white;
My eighty years are in the offing,
And sitting by the fire to-night
I sip a grog to ease my coughing.
It`s true I`m raucous as a rook,
But feeling bibulously "bardy,"
These lines I`m scribbling in a book:
The verse complete of Thomas Hardy. 

Although to-day he`s read by few,
Him have I loved beyond all measure;
So here to-night I riffle through
His pages with the oldtime pleasure;
And with this book upon my knee,
(To-day so woefully neglected)
I muse and think how soon I`ll be
Myself among the Great Rejected. 

Yet as these lines with zest I write,
Although the hour for me is tardy,
I think: "Of all the world to-night
`Tis I alone am reading Hardy";
And now to me he seems so nigh
I feel I commune with his spirit,
And as none love him more than I,
Thereby I gain a modest merit. 

Oh Brother Thomas, glad I`ll be,
Though all the world may pass unheeding,
If some greybeard con over me,
As I to-night your rhymes are reading;
Saying: "Old Bastard, you and I
By sin are knit in mind and body. . . ."
So ere to hit the hay I hie
Your ghost I`ll toast in midnight toddy.
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