Aspiration

❦

When I was daft (as urchins are),
And full if fairy lore,
I aimed an arrow at a star
And hit - the barnyard door.

I've shot at heaps of stars since then,
but always it's the same -
A barnyard door has mocked me when
Uranus was my aim.

So, I'll shoot starward as of yore,
Though wide my arrows fall;
I'd rather hit a big barn door
Then never aim at all.

More poems by Robert Service

Because I was a woman lone / And had of friends so few,

For five and twenty years I've run / A famous train;

When I am old and worse for wear / I want to buy a rocking-chair,

'Why keep a cow when I can buy,' / Said he, 'the milk I need,'