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Poem by Robert William Service
One day the Great Designer sought His Clerk of Birth and Death. Said he: "Two souls are in my thought, to whom I gave life-breath. I deemed my work was fitly done, But yester-eve I saw That in the finished brain of one There was a tiny flaw. "It worried me, and I would know, Since I am all to blame, What happened to them down below, Of honour or of shame; For if the later did befall, My sorrow will be grave..." Then numbers astronomical unto the Clerk he gave. The Keeper of the Rolls replied: "Of them I've little trace; But one he was a Prince of pride And one of lowly race. One was a Holy Saint proclaimed; For one no hell sufficed... Let's see; the last was Nero named, The other... Jesus Christ."
Robert William Service
Robert William Service's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org