The Record
Robert William Service 1874 – 1958
Fearing that she might go one day
With some fine fellow of her choice,
I called her from her childish play,
And made a record of her voice.
And now that she is truly gone,
I hear it sweet and crystal clear
From out my wheezy gramophone:
"I love you, Daddy dear."
Indeed it's true she went away,
But Oh she went all, all alone;
Into the dark she went for aye,
Poor little mite! ere girlhood grown.
Ah that I could with her have gone!
But this is all I have to show -
A ghost voice on a gramophone:
"Dear Dad, I love you so."
The saddest part of loss 'tis said,
Is that time tempers our regret;
But that is treason to the dead -
I'll not forget, I'll not forget.
Sole souvenir of golden years,
'Twas best to break this disc in two,
And spare myself a spate of tears . . .
But this I cannot do.
So I will play it every day,
And it will seem that she is near,
And once again I'll hear her say:
I love you so, Oh Daddy dear."
And then her kiss - a stab of woe.
The record ends . . . I breathe a plea:
"Oh God, speed me to where I know
Wee lass, you wait for me."
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:07 min read
- 125 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABABCDCD AEXECFCF GHGHXIXI ADADFJFJ |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 1,082 |
Words | 224 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8 |
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"The Record" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/32626/the-record>.
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