Sunday, August 26, 2018

A classic screed that few would read

by Robert W. Service

Ah yes, I know my brow is low
And often wished it high,
So that I might with rapture write
An epic of the sky;
A poem cast in contour vast,
Of fabled gods and fays;
A classic screed that few would read
Yet nearly all would praise.

Alas! Low-browed, to lure the crowd
With cap and bells I sing;
And some may cheer and some may jeer,
And some a farthing fling.
The lofty line will ne'er be mine,
To rude rhyme I belong,
And try to please the least of these
Who listen to my song.

Kind folk! excuse my moron muse
Whose earthiness I rue;
Of homespun class it is alas!
The best that I can do.
Of grosser grain I strive in vain
To scale the alps of Art . . .
A clown I go: Houp La! - But Oh
The hunger in my heart!

UPDATE: I posted this from Lyrics of a Low Brow by Robert W. Service, found in a box of books I was more or less unsuccessfully trying to cull in my continuing effort to reduce the 13,000 book accumulation of a lifetime of reading. I have already scheduled a long series of his works in the coming days.

Illustrating enduring serendipity, on this first day of the scheduled posts, and related to the passing of John McCain last night, there is this small tribute:

Do read the linked article Reagan, McCain, and Sam McGee by Andrew Ferguson. Apparently not only were Reagan and McCain fans of Robert Service, but the Queen Mother of England as well.

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