Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)

Kail Yard Bard

A very humble pen I ply
Beneath a cottage thatch;
And in the sunny hours I try
To till my cabbage patch;
And in the gloaming glad am I
To lift the latch.

I do not plot to pile up pelf,
With jowl and belly fat;
To simple song I give myself,
And seek no gain at that:
Content if milk is on the shelf
To feed the cat.

I joy that haleness I possess,
Though fame has passed me by;
And see such gold of happiness
A-shining in the sky,
I wonder who has won success,
Proud men or I?

I do not grieve that I am poor,
And by the world unknown;
Free as the wind, serene and sure,
In peace I live alone.
'Tis better to be bard obscure
Than King on Throne.

1. Music in the Bush
2. The Rhyme of the Remittance Man
3. The Little Old Log Cabin
4. The Younger Son
5. The March of the Dead

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1710

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