Said he: "You saw the Master clear; <br />By Rushy Pond alone he sat, <br />Serene and silent as a seer, <br />in tweedy coat and seedy hat. <br />you tell me you did not intrude, <br />(Although his book was in your hand,) <br />Upon his melancholy mood . . . <br /> I do not understand. <br /> <br />"You did not tell him: 'I have come <br />From o'er the sea to speak to you.' <br />You did not dare, your lips were dumb . . . <br />You thought a little zephyr blew <br />From Rushy Pond a touch of him <br />You'll cherish to your dying day, <br />Perhaps with tears your eyes were dim . . . <br /> And then - you went away. <br /> <br />"And down the years you will proclaim: <br />'O call me dullard, dub me dunce! <br />But let this be my meed of fame: <br />I looked on Thomas Hardy once. <br />Aye, by a stile I stood a span <br />And with these eyes did plainly see <br />A little, shrinking, shabby man . . . <br /> But Oh a god to me!'" <br /> <br />Said I: "'Tis true, I scarce dared look, <br />yet he would have been kind, I'm sure; <br />But though I clutched his precious book <br />I feared to beg his signature. <br />Ah yes, my friend, I merit mirth. <br />You're bold, you have the right to laugh, <br />And if Christ came again to earth <br /> You'd cadge his autograph."<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hero-worship-2/
