Just curious?????


OJR

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Other than the Canadians, how many of you have heard of Robert Service?

He was a poet and 2 of his most famous poems are "The Cremation of Sam McGee" and the "The Shooting of Dan McGrew".

I have a book of his poems that is dated 1907 entitled "The Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses".

Interesting stuff that he wrote!

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Re: Just curious?????

Here is the opening stanza of "The Shooting of Dan McGrew".

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the

Malamute saloon;

The kid that handles the music-box was hitting

a jag-time tune;

Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous

Dan McGrew,

And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the

lady that's known as Lou.

The way he wrote these poems, a person can just picture the whole scene!

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Re: Just curious?????

[ QUOTE ]

Other than the Canadians, how many of you have heard of Robert Service?

[/ QUOTE ]

I didn't say anything, because you told me not to...LOL

Of course I've heard of him. I grew up on his stuff. We enjoyed reading his poetry in all our English classes. grin.gif

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Re: Just curious?????

His poems are what get me out of bed before the sun comes up, to get to my hunting spot. wink.gif

The Lure of Little Voices

There's a cry from out the loneliness -- oh, listen, Honey, listen!

Do you hear it, do you fear it, you're a-holding of me so?

You're a-sobbing in your sleep, dear, and your lashes, how they glisten --

Do you hear the Little Voices all a-begging me to go?

All a-begging me to leave you. Day and night they're pleading, praying,

On the North-wind, on the West-wind, from the peak and from the plain;

Night and day they never leave me -- do you know what they are saying?

"He was ours before you got him, and we want him once again."

Yes, they're wanting me, they're haunting me, the awful lonely places;

They're whining and they're whimpering as if each had a soul;

They're calling from the wilderness, the vast and God-like spaces,

The stark and sullen solitudes that sentinel the Pole.

They miss my little camp-fires, ever brightly, bravely gleaming

In the womb of desolation, where was never man before;

As comradeless I sought them, lion-hearted, loving, dreaming,

And they hailed me as a comrade, and they loved me evermore.

And now they're all a-crying, and it's no use me denying;

The spell of them is on me and I'm helpless as a child;

My heart is aching, aching, but I hear them, sleeping, waking;

It's the Lure of Little Voices, it's the mandate of the Wild.

I'm afraid to tell you, Honey, I can take no bitter leaving;

But softly in the sleep-time from your love I'll steal away.

Oh, it's cruel, dearie, cruel, and it's God knows how I'm grieving;

But His loneliness is calling, and He knows I must obey.

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