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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508787" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Logger</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the moonless, misty night, with my little pipe alight,<br> I am sitting by the camp-fire's fading cheer;<br>Oh, the dew is falling chill on the dim, deer-haunted hill,<br> And the breakers in the bay are moaning drear.<br>The toilful hours are sped, the boys are long abed,<br> And I alone a weary vigil keep;<br>In the sightless, sullen sky I can hear the night-hawk cry,<br> And the frogs in frenzied chorus from the creek.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And somehow the embers' glow brings me back the long ago,<br> The days of merry laughter and light song;<br>When I sped the hours away with the gayest of the gay<br> In the giddy whirl of fashion's festal throng.<br>Oh, I ran a grilling race and I little recked the pace,<br> For the lust of youth ran riot in my blood;<br>But at last I made a stand in this God-forsaken land<br> Of the pine-tree and the mountain and the flood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now I've got to stay, with an overdraft to pay,<br> For pleasure in the past with future pain;<br>And I'm not the chap to whine, for if the chance were mine<br> I know I'd choose the old life once again.<br>With its woman's eyes a-shine, and its flood of golden wine;<br> Its fever and its frolic and its fun;<br>The old life with its din, its laughter and its sin --<br> And chuck me in the gutter when it's done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, well! it's past and gone, and the memory is wan,<br> That conjures up each old familiar face;<br>And here by fortune hurled, I am dead to all the world,<br> And I've learned to lose my pride and keep my place.<br>My ways are hard and rough, and my arms are strong and tough,<br> And I hew the dizzy pine till darkness falls;<br>And sometimes I take a dive, just to keep my heart alive,<br> Among the gay saloons and dancing halls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the distant, dinful town just a little drink to drown<br> The cares that crowd and canker in my brain;<br>Just a little joy to still set my pulses all a-thrill,<br> Then back to brutish labour once again.<br>And things will go on so until one day I shall know<br> That Death has got me cinched beyond a doubt;<br>Then I'll crawl away from sight, and morosely in the night<br> My weary, wasted life will peter out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then the boys will gather round, and they'll launch me in the ground,<br> And pile the stones the timber wolf to foil;<br>And the moaning pine will wave overhead a nameless grave,<br> Where the black snake in the sunshine loves to coil.<br>And they'll leave me there alone, and perhaps with softened tone<br> Speak of me sometimes in the camp-fire's glow,<br>As a played-out, broken chum, who has gone to Kingdom Come,<br> And who went the pace in England long ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508787" data-title="The Logger de Robert William Service" data-description="In the moonless, misty night, with my little pipe alight,
 I am sitting by the camp-fire's fading cheer;
Oh, the dew is falling chill on the dim, deer-haunted hill,
 And the breakers in the bay are moaning drear.
The toilful hours are sped, the bo..."></div>
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