Pinned on my coat above my fluttered heart,
So that he'd know me - a precaution wise,
Because I wrote him I was twenty-three,
And Oh such heaps and heaps of silly lies. . .
So when we meet what will he think of me?
It's funny, but it has its sorry side;
I put an advert. in the evening Press:
"A lonely maiden fain would be a bride."
Oh it was shameless of me, I confess.
But I am thirty-nine and in despair,
Wanting a home and children ere too late,
And I forget I'm no more young and fair -
I'll hide my rose and run...No, no, I'll wait.
An hour has passed and I am waiting still.
I ought to feel relieved, but I'm so sad.
I would have liked to see him, just to thrill,
And sigh and say: "There goes my lovely lad!
My one romance!" Ah, Life's malign mishap!
"Garcon, a cafè creme." I'll stay till nine. . .
The cafè's empty, just an oldish chap
Who's sitting at the table next to mine. . .
He
I'm waiting for the girl I mean to wed.
She was to come at eight and now it's nine.
She'd pin upon her coat a rose of red,
And I would wear a marguerite in mine.
No sign of her I see...It's true my eyes
Need stronger glasses than the ones I wear,
But Oh I feel my heart would recognize
Her face without the rose - she is so fair.
Ah! what deceivers are we aging men!
What vanity keeps youthful hope aglow!
Poor girl! I sent a photo taken when
I was a student, twenty years ago.
(Hers is so Springlike, Oh so blossom sweet!)
How she will shudder when she sees me now!
I think I'd better hide that marguerite -
How can I age and ugliness avow?
She does not come. It's after nine o'clock.
What fools we fogeys are! I'll try to laugh;
(Garcon, you might bring me another bock)
Falling in love, just from a photograph.
Well, that's the end. I'll go home and forget,
Then realizing I am over ripe
I'll throw away this silly cigarette
And philosophically light my pipe.
* * * * *
The waiter brought the coffee and the beer,
And there they sat, so woe-begone a pair,
And seemed to think: "Why do we linger here?"
When suddenly they turned, to start and stare.
She spied a marguerite, he glimpsed a rose;
Their eyes were joined and in a flash they knew. . .
The sleepy waiter saw, when time to close,
The sweet romance of those deceiving two,
Whose lips were joined, their hearts, their future too.
~ Robert William Service
Robert William Service is the legendary poet behind such poems as “The Cremation of Sam McGee”, “The Shooting of Dan McGrew” and “The Spell of the Yukon”. Though born in England, William spent his adolescence in Glasgow, working in a bank and writing poetry in his spare time. An avid frequenter of the city’s music halls, Robert became more intrigued by vice than virtue and enjoyed the “common” side of life and its many characters.
A lover of adventure and travel stories, Robert abruptly quit his job and sailed to Montreal, Canada, at the age of 21, traveling all the way to the west coast. There, he lived many lives - farmer, drifter, storekeeper, banker, entertainer and finally, poet.
When he had completed his first collection of poems, he sent them to his father in Scotland so that he could publish them merely as gifts for friends and family. But Robert soon received a letter from the publisher, who returned his money and asked for publication rights. Thus, his career began.
During his lifetime, Robert wrote two autobiographies, 6 novels (some of which were inspired by his life in the Yukon) and more than 1,000 poems. Some of his books were made into films and he even appeared in the 1942 movie, The Spoilers, with Marlene Dietrich and John Wayne.
After the First World War, Robert married a French woman and spent most of the rest of his life on the French Riviera.
Photo: "The Night Cafe" painting by Vincent van Gogh.
