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Robert W Service - The Search
Work rating: Medium

I bought a young and lovely bride,
          Paying her father gold;
Lamblike she rested by my side,
          As cold as ice is cold.
No love in her could I awake,
          Even for pity`s sake.

I bought rich books I could not read,
          And pictures proud and rare;
Reproachfully they seemed to plead
          And hunger for my care;
But to their beauty I was blind,
          Even as is a hind.

The bearded merchants heard my cry:
          `I`ll give all I posses
If only, only I can buy
          A little happiness.`
Alas! I sought without avail:
          They had not that for sale.

I gave my riches to the poor
          And dared the desert lone;
Now of God`s heaven I am sure
          Though I am rag and bone . . .
Aye, richer than the Aga Khan,
          At last—a happy man.
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