Share:
  Guess poet | Poets | Poets timeline | Isles | Contacts

Robert W Service - The Hearth-StoneRobert W Service - The Hearth-Stone
Work rating: Low


The leaves are sick and jaundiced, they              Drift down the air; December`s sky is sodden grey,              Dark with despair; A bleary dawn will light anon              A world of care.               My name is cut into a stone,              No care have I; The letters drool, as I alone              Forgotten lie: With weed my grave is overgrown,              None cometh nigh. A hundred hollow years will speed              As I decay; And I`ll be comrade to the weed,              Kin to the clay; Until some hind in homing-need              Will pass my way. Until some lover seeking hearth              With joy will see My nameless stone sunk in the earth              And it will be The ruddy birth of childish mirth,              And elder glee. And none will dream it bore my name              Decades ago; A scribbling fool of little fame,              Who loved life so . . . Well, flesh is grass and Time must pass,—              Heigh ho! Heigh ho!
Source

The script ran 0.001 seconds.