Robert William Service
My flask of wine was ruby red
And swift I ran my sweet to see;
With eyes that snapped delight I said:
"How mad with love a lad can be!"
The moon was laughing overhead;
I danced as nimbly as a flea.
Thought I: In two weeks time we'll wed;
No more a lonesome widow she;
For I have bought a double bed
And I will father children three.
So singing like a lark I sped
To her who ne'er expected me.
And then I went with wary tread,
Her sweet surprise to greet with glee;
To where her lamplit lattice shed
A rosy radiance on the lea:
. . . And then my heart sank low like lead,
Two shadows on the blind to see.
A man was sitting on the bed,
And she was nudely on his knee. . . .
I saw her face drain white with dread,
I saw her lover madly flee. . . .
Oh how her blood is ruby red,
And I await the gallows tree
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Comments about this poem (Expectation by Robert William Service )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Inspiration, Henry David Thoreau
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- The Solitary Reaper, William Wordsworth
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Ode To A Nightingale, John Keats
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