MY MASTERPIECE

MY MASTERPIECE

 

It's slim and trim and bound in blue;

It's leaves are crisp and edged in gold;

It's words are simple, stalwart too;

It's thoughts are tender, wise and bold.

It's pages scintillate with wit;

It's pathos clutches at my throat;

Oh how I love each line of it!

That Little Book I Never Wrote.

 

In dreams I see it praised and prized

By all from plowman to peer; 

It's pencil marked and memorized,

It's loaned (and not returned, I fear);

It's worn and torn and travel-tossed,

And even dusky natives quote

That classic that the world has lost,

The Little Book I Never Wrote.

 

Poor ghost! For homes you failed to cheer,

For grieving hearts uncomforted,

Don't haunt me now....Alas! I fear

The fire of inspiration's dead.

A humdrum way I go to-night,

From all I hoped and dreamed remote;

Too late....a better man must write

That Little Book I Never Wrote.

ROBERT SERVICE