Tim

Robert William Service

My brother Tim has children ten,
          While I have none.
Maybe that’s why he’s toiling when
          To ease I’ve won.
But though I would some of his brood
          Give hearth and care,
I know that not a one he would
          Have heart to spare.

’Tis children that have kept him poor;
          He’s clad them neat.
They’ve never wanted, I am sure,
          For bite to eat.
And though their future may be dim,
          They laugh a lot.
Am I tearful for Brother Tim?
          Oh no, I’m not.

I know he goes to work each day
          With flagging feet.
’Tis hard, even with decent pay,
          To make ends meet.
But when my sterile home I see,
          So smugly prim,
Although my banker bows to me,
          I envy Tim.

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