Wednesday, March 16, 2011


by Robert Service

I know a garden where the lilies gleam,
   And one who lingers in the sunshine there;
   She is than white-clothed lily far more fair,
And, oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream!

I know a garret, cold and dark and drear,
   And one who toils and toils with tireless pen,
   Until his brave, sad eyes grow weary – then
He seeks the stars pale, silent as a seer.

And, ah, it’s strange; for, desolate and dim,
   Between these two there rolls a country wide;
   Yet he is in the garden by her side
And she is in garret there with him.

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