Learn More

Robert William Service

(16 January 1874 - 11 September 1958 / Preston)

Stamp Collector


My worldly wealth I hoard in albums three,
My life collection of rare postage stamps;
My room is cold and bare as you can see,
My coat is old and shabby as a tramp's;
Yet more to me than balances in banks,
My albums three are worth a million francs.

I keep them in that box beside my bed,
For who would dream such treasures it could hold;
But every day I take them out and spread
Each page, to gloat like miser o'er his gold:
Dearer to me than could be child or wife,
I would defend them with my very life.

They are my very life, for every night
over my catalogues I pore and pore;
I recognize rare items with delight,
Nothing I read but philatelic lore;
And when some specimen of choice I buy,
In all the world there's none more glad than I.

Behold my gem, my British penny black;
To pay its price I starved myself a year;
And many a night my dinner I would lack,
But when I bought it, oh, what radiant cheer!
Hitler made war that day - I did not care,
So long as my collection he would spare.

Look - my triangular Cape of Good Hope.
To purchase it I had to sell my car.
Now in my pocket for some sous I grope
To pay my omnibus when home is far,
And I am cold and hungry and footsore,
In haste to add some beauty to my store.

This very day, ah, what a joy was mine,
When in a dingy dealer's shop I found
This franc vermillion, eighteen forty-nine . . .
How painfully my heart began to pound!
(It's weak they say), I paid the modest price
And tremblingly I vanished in a trice.

But oh, my dream is that some day of days,
I might discover a Mauritius blue,
poking among the stamp-bins of the quais;
Who knows! They say there are but two;
Yet if a third one I should spy,
I think - God help me! I should faint and die. . . .

Poor Monsieur Pns, he's cold and dead,
One of those stamp-collecting cranks.
His garret held no crust of bread,
But albums worth a million francs.
on them his income he would spend,
By philatelic frenzy driven:
What did it profit in the end. . .
You can't take stamps to Heaven.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read poems about / on: dream, car, war, child, beauty, joy, hope, heaven, home, night, life, shopping, children

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Stamp Collector by Robert William Service )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

New Poems

  1. Evil Intent, Abdul Malik Mandani
  2. This ugly image, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  3. Sweet Ilussions, Sandra Feldman
  4. Weighting Each Thought, Heather Burns
  5. Their moral decline anytime انحدارهم ال.., MOHAMMAD SKATI
  6. A surrealistic image صورة سوريالية, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  7. In 80s, Nassy Fesharaki
  8. A Walk in the Woods, Abdul Malik Mandani
  9. Natural Alliance, Abdul Malik Mandani
  10. Stop your Sobbing (haiku), Elizabeth Padillo Olesen

Poem of the Day

poet Henry David Thoreau

Conscience is instinct bred in the house,
Feeling and Thinking propagate the sin
By an unnatural breeding in and in.
I say, Turn it out doors,
Into the moors.
...... Read complete »

   

Trending Poems

  1. 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
  2. The Solution, Bertolt Brecht
  3. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  4. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
  5. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
  6. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  7. Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye
  8. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  9. Lament for Ignacio Sánchez Mejías, Federico García Lorca
  10. Dreams, Langston Hughes

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]