Mumsie and Dad are raven dark
And I am lily blonde.
''Tis strange,' I once heard nurse remark,
'You do not correspond.'
And yet they claim me as their own,
Born of their flesh and bone.
To doubt their parenthood I dread,
But now to girlhood grown,
The thought is haunting in my head
That I am not their own:
If so, my radiant bloom of youth
Would wither in the truth.
'Twould give me anguish deep to know
A fondling babe was I;
And that a maid in wedless woe
Left me to live or die:
I'd rather Mother lied and lied
To save my pride.
I love them both and they love me;
I am their all, they say.
Yet though the sweetest home have we,
To know I'm theirs I pray.
If not, please dear ones, never tell . . .
The truth would be of hell.
Poor Kid
Robert Service
(1)
Poem topics: I love you, dark, home, mother, never, pride, raven, dear, pray, head, claim, deep, doubt, nurse, live, bone, thought, strange, save, anguish, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Poor Kid poem by Robert Service
Best Poems of Robert Service