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Horatio

Robert Service

His portrait hung upon the wall.
     Oh how at us he used to stare.
Each Sunday when I made my call! --
     And when one day it wasn't there,
Quite quick I seemed to understand
     The light was green to hold her hand.

Her eyes were amorously lit;
     I knew she wouldn't mind at all.
Yet what I did was sit and sit
     Seeing that blankness on the wall . . .
Horatio had a gentle face,--
     How would my mug look in his place?

That oblong of wall-paper wan!
     And while she prattled prettily
I sensed the red light going on,
     So I refused a cup of tea,
And took my gold-topped cane and hat--
     My going seemed to leave her flat.

Horatio was a decent guy,
     And when she ravished from her heart
A damsite better man than I,
     She seemed to me,--well, just a tart:
Her lack of tact I can't explain.
     His picture,--is it hung again?

Added: 29 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 21 Apr 2018 2:03 AM | Viewed: 3855 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/5222/ | Viewed on 21 April 2018.
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