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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508835" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Record</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fearing that she might go one day<br>With some fine fellow of her choice,<br>I called her from her childish play,<br>And made a record of her voice.<br>And now that she is truly gone,<br>I hear it sweet and crystal clear<br>From out my wheezy gramophone:<br> "I love you, Daddy dear."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Indeed it's true she went away,<br>But Oh she went all, all alone;<br>Into the dark she went for aye,<br>Poor little mite! ere girlhood grown.<br>Ah that I could with her have gone!<br>But this is all I have to show -<br>A ghost voice on a gramophone:<br> "Dear Dad, I love you so."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The saddest part of loss 'tis said,<br>Is that time tempers our regret;<br>But that is treason to the dead -<br>I'll not forget, I'll not forget.<br>Sole souvenir of golden years,<br>'Twas best to break this disc in two,<br>And spare myself a spate of tears . . .<br> But this I cannot do.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So I will play it every day,<br>And it will seem that she is near,<br>And once again I'll hear her say:<br>I love you so, Oh Daddy dear."<br>And then her kiss - a stab of woe.<br>The record ends . . . I breathe a plea:<br>"Oh God, speed me to where I know<br> Wee lass, you wait for me."</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=508835" data-title="The Record de Robert William Service" data-description="Fearing that she might go one day With some fine fellow of her choice, I called her from her childish play, And made a record of her voice. And now that she is truly gone, I hear it sweet and crystal clear From out my wheezy gramophone: "I l..."></div> </div> </div>
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