My Father Christmas passed away
When I was barely seven.
At twenty-one, alack-a-day,
I lost my hope of heaven.

Yet not in either lies the curse:
The hell of it's because
I don't know which loss hurt the worse --
My God or Santa Claus.

(C) Robert William Service
03/14/2017


Best Poems of Robert William Service

• The Wood-cutter
• Dylan
• The End Of The Trail
• Birthday
• The Release
• If You Had A Friend
• Humility
• Dark Truth
• Michael
• Miracles
• The Man From Athabaska
• My Indian Summer
• Success
• Striving
• Finality
• The Legless Man
• The Sightless Man
• Distracted Druggist
• Pilgrims
• Kittens