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Post Office Romance Analysis



Author: poem of Robert Service Type: poem Views: 1

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The lady at the corner wicket

Sold me a stamp, I stooped to lick it,

And on the envelope to stick it;

A spinster lacking girlish grace,

Yet sweetly sensitive, her face

Seemed to en-star that stodgy place.



Said I: "I've come from o'er the sea

To ask you if you'll marry me -

That is to say, if you are free.

I see your gentle features freeze;

'I do not like such jokes as these,'

You seem to say . . . Have patience, please.



I saw you twenty years ago;

Just here you sold me stamps, and Oh

Your image seemed to haunt me so.

For you were lovely as a rose,

But I was poor, and I suppose

At me you tilted dainty nose.



Ah, well I knew love could not be,

So sought my fortune o'er the sea,

Deeming that you were lost to me.

Of sailing ships a mate was I,

From oriental ports to ply . . .

Ten years went past of foreign sky.



But always in the starry night

I steered my course with you in sight,

My dream of you a beacon light.

Then after a decade had sped

I cam again: 'What luck? I said,

'Will she be here and free to wed?'



Oh it was on a morn of Spring,

And I had in my purse a ring

I bought in Eastern voyaging,

With thought of you and only you;

For I to my love dream was true . . .

And here you were, your eyes of blue.



The same sun shining on your brow

Lustered you hair as it does now,

My heart was standing still, I vow.

I bought a stamp, my eyes were bent

Upon a ring you wore - I went

Away as if indifferent.



Again I sailed behind the mast,

And yet your image held me fast,

For once again ten years have passed.

And I am bronzed with braid of gold;

The rank of Captain now I hold,

And fifty are my years all told.



Yet still I have that ruby ring

I bought for you that morn of Spring -

See, here it is, a pretty thing. . . .

But now you've none upon your finger;

Why? I don't know - but as I linger

I'm thinking : Oh what can I bring her.



Who all my life have ploughed the ocean,

A lonely man with one devotion -

Just you? Ah, if you'd take the notion

To try the thing you ought to wear,

It fits so well. Do leave it there.



And here's a note addressed to you.

Ah yes, quite strangers are we two,

But - well, please answer soon . . . Adieu!



    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *



Oh no, you never more will see

Her selling stamps at Wicket Three:

Queen of my home, she's pouring tea.






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