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Poem by Robert William Service
When I am dead I will not care How future generations fare, For I will be so unaware. Though fields their slain has carpeted, And seas be salt with tears they shed, Not one I'll waste, for I'll be dead. Though atom bombs in ashes lay Their skyey cities of to-day, With carrion lips I cannot pray. Though ruin reigns and madness raves, And cowering men creep back in caves, I cannot help to dig their graves. Though fools for knowledge delve too deep, And wake dark demons from their sleep, I will not have the eyes to weep. I will not care, I cannot care, For I will be no longer there To share their sorrow and despair. And nevermore my heart will bleed When on my brain the blind-worms feed, For I'll be dead, dead, DEAD indeed. And when I rot and cease to be, It matters not a jot to me What may be man's dark destiny. Ah! there you have the hell of it, As in the face of Fate I spit I know she doesn't mind a bit. A thousand millions clot this earth, And billions more await their birth - For what?.. Ye gods, enjoy your mirth!
Robert William Service
Robert William Service's other poems:
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