In the Northland there were three <br />Pukka Pliers of the pen; <br />Two of them had Fame in fee <br />And were loud and lusty men; <br />By them like a shrimp was I - <br />Yet alas! they had to die. <br /> <br />Jack was genius through and through. <br />Who his future could foretell? <br />What we sweated blood to do <br />He would deem a bagatelle. <br />Yet in youth he had to die, <br />And an ancient man am I. <br /> <br />Rex was rugged as an oak; <br />Story-teller born was he. <br />First of writing, fighting folk, <br />How he lived prodigiously! <br />Better man he was than I, <br />Yet forlorn he had to die. <br /> <br />Jack was made of god-like stuff, <br />Born to battle for the right; <br />Rex of fighting had enough <br />When the gods destroyed his sight . . . <br />Craven heart - I wonder why <br />Lingering alone am I? <br /> <br />They were men of valiant breed, <br />Fit and fearless in the fight, <br />Who in every thought and deed <br />Burned the flame of life too bright. <br />Cowards live, while heroes die . . . <br />They have gone and - here am I.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/two-men-j-l-and-r-b/
