Robert William Service
A Domestic Tragedy
Clorinda met me on the way
As I came from the train;
Her face was anything but gay,
In fact, suggested pain.
"Oh hubby, hubby dear!" she cried,
"I've awful news to tell. . . ."
"What is it, darling?" I replied;
"Your mother -- is she well?"
"Oh no! oh no! it is not that,
It's something else," she wailed,
My heart was beating pit-a-pat,
My ruddy visage paled.
Like lightning flash in heaven's dome
The fear within me woke:
"Don't say," I cried, "our little home
Has all gone up in smoke!"
She shook her head. Oh, swift I clasped
And held her to my breast;
"The children! Tell me quick," I gasped,
"Believe me, it is best."
Then, then she spoke; 'mid sobs I caught
These words of woe divine:
"It's coo-coo-cook has gone and bought
A new hat just like mine."
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Comments about this poem (A Domestic Tragedy by Robert William Service )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(1923 - 1998)
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