Robert William Service
As I go forth from fair to mart
With racket ringing,
Who would divine that in my heart
Mad larks are singing.
As I sweet sympathy express,
Lest I should pain them,
The money-mongers cannot guess
How I disdain them.
As I sit at some silly tea
And flirt and flatter
How I abhor society
And female chatter.
As I with wonderment survey
Their peacock dresses,
My mind is wafted far away
As I sit in some raucous pub,
Taboo to women,
And treat myself to greasy grub
I feel quite human.
Yet there I dream, despite the din,
Of God's green spaces,
And sweetly dwell the peace within
Of sylvan graces.
And so I wear my daily mask
Of pleasant seeming,
And nobody takes me to task
For distant dreaming;
A happy hypocrite am I
Of ambiance inner,
Who smiling make the same reply
To saint and sinner.
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Comments about this poem (Detachment by Robert William Service )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- At my door, hasmukh amathalal
- Imagination but real, Mashiur Rahman
- I cant see you but I know you there, yolandey breedt
- Like an old-fashioned tradition, Kamini Arichandran
- Where are we?, Pintu Mahakul
- Gazing up the sky, Seira LNlee94
- no one has ever done good without....., RIC S. BASTASA
- the night deepens, RIC S. BASTASA
- to begin with....., RIC S. BASTASA
- who is someone in your mind?, RIC S. BASTASA