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Poem by Robert William Service


Murderers


He was my best and oldest friend.
I'd known him all my life.
And yet I'm sure towards the end
He knew I loved his wife,
And wonder, wonder if it's why
He came so dreadfully to die.

He drove his car at racing speed
And crashed into a tree.
How could he have so little heed?
A skillful driver he.
I think he must have found that day
Some love-letters that went astray.

I looked into the woman's eyes
And there I saw she knew.
There was no shadow of surmise, -
For her himself he slew:
That he might leave her free to wed
The "me" she worshipped in his stead.

She whispered as she bade me go:
"I think he found us out."
And in her face the hate and woe
Was his revenge, no doubt.
Life cannot link us... though glad-green
His grave; he stands between.



Robert William Service


Robert William Service's other poems:
  1. Pullman Porter
  2. The Three Voices
  3. Mammy
  4. Trees against the Sky
  5. The Missal Makers


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