My Chapel

Robert William Service

In idle dream with pipe in hand
     I looked across the Square,
And saw the little chapel stand
     In eloquent despair.
A ruin of the War it was,
     A dreary, dingy mess:
It worried me a lot because
     My hobby’s happiness.

The shabby Priest said: ‘You are kind.
     Time leaves us on the lurch,
And there are very few who mind
     Their duty to the Church.
But with this precious sum you give,
     I’ll make it like a gem;
Poor folks will come, our altar live
     To comfort them.’

So now my chapel of despair
     Is full of joy and song;
I watch the humble go to prayer
     Although I don’t belong.
An artist and agnostic I
     Possess but little pelf;
But oh what blessings it can buy
     Them—and myself!

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