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Poem by Robert William Service


The Sceptic


My Father Christmas passed away
When I was barely seven.
At twenty-one, alack-a-day,
I lost my hope of heaven.

Yet not in either lies the curse:
The hell of it's because
I don't know which loss hurt the worse --
My God or Santa Claus.



Robert William Service


Robert William Service's other poems:
  1. The Wee Shop
  2. The Sum-Up
  3. Resolutions
  4. The Robbers
  5. Prelude (In youth I gnawed life's bitter rind)


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Louisa Bevington The Sceptic ("SWEET were the faiths our wishes bred; cruel is faithless fate")

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