Treasure Island

Robert William Service

(16 January 1874 - 11 September 1958 / Preston)

Little Moccasins


Come out, O Little Moccasins, and frolic on the snow!
Come out, O tiny beaded feet, and twinkle in the light!
I'll play the old Red River reel, you used to love it so:
Awake, O Little Moccasins, and dance for me to-night!

Your hair was all a gleamy gold, your eyes a corn-flower blue;
Your cheeks were pink as tinted shells, you stepped light as a fawn;
Your mouth was like a coral bud, with seed pearls peeping through;
As gladdening as Spring you were, as radiant as dawn.

Come out, O Little Moccasins! I'll play so soft and low,
The songs you loved, the old heart-songs that in my mem'ry ring;
O child, I want to hear you now beside the campfire glow!
With all your heart a-throbbing in the simple words you sing.

For there was only you and I, and you were all to me;
And round us were the barren lands, but little did we fear;
Of all God's happy, happy folks the happiest were we. . . .
(Oh, call her, poor old fiddle mine, and maybe she will hear!)

Your mother was a half-breed Cree, but you were white all through;
And I, your father was -- but well, that's neither here nor there;
I only know, my little Queen, that all my world was you,
And now that world can end to-night, and I will never care.

For there's a tiny wooden cross that pricks up through the snow:
(Poor Little Moccasins! you're tired, and so you lie at rest.)
And there's a grey-haired, weary man beside the campfire glow:
(O fiddle mine! the tears to-night are drumming on your breast.)

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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Read poems about / on: snow, pink, happy, dance, flower, river, father, spring, child, hair, night, light, mother, red, fear, world, heart, god, song, children

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  • Tia Maria (2/8/2009 12:58:00 PM)

    'For there was only you and I, and you were all to me;
    And round us were the barren lands, but little did we fear;
    Of all God's happy, happy folks the happiest were we....'

    Tis better to have loved & lost than never to have loved at all
    Some never experience this in a whole lifetime, a love so beautiful
    I say this with love & respect to a beautiful father & poet.
    And I picture him playing his fiddle to her now as she frolics in heavenly snow (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

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