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Read more poems by Robert Service: Robert Service Poems at Poetry X.

My mother loved her horses and
          Her hounds of pedigree;
She did not kiss the baby hand
          I held to her in glee.
Of course I had a sweet nou-nou
          Who tended me with care,
And mother reined her nag to view
          Me with a critic air.

So I went to a famous school,
          But holidays were short;
My mother thought me just a fool,
          Unfit for games and sport.
For I was fond of books and art,
          And hated hound and steed:
Said Mother, 'Boy, you break my heart!
          You are not of our breed.'

Then came the War. The Mater said:
          'Thank God, a son I give
To King and Country,'--well, I'm dead
          Who would have loved to live.
'For England's sake,' said she, 'he died.
          For that my boy I bore.'
And now she talks of me with pride.
          A hero of the War.

Mother, I think that you are glad
          I ended up that way.
Your horses and your dogs you had,
          And still you have today.
Your only child you say you gave
          Your Country to defend . . .
Dear Mother, from a hero's grave
          I--curse you in the end.

Added: 29 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 5 Sep 2008 1:58 PM | Viewed: 2734 times

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