English poetry

Poems in English



The Sceptic

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.


1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)

Poem The Sceptic - Robert William Service