Robert William Service Lost Poems

Lost Shepherd

Ah me! How hard is destiny!
If we could only know. . . .
I bought my son from Sicily
A score of years ago;

Lost Kitten

Two men I saw reel from a bar
And stumble down the street;
Coarse and uncouth as workmen are,
They walked with wobbly feet.

The Lost Master

"And when I come to die," he said,
"Ye shall not lay me out in state,
Nor leave your laurels at my head,
Nor cause your men of speech orate;


"Black is the sky, but the land is white--
(O the wind, the snow and the storm!)--
Father, where is our boy to-night?
Pray to God he is safe and warm."

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