Classic and Contemporary Poetry
FINISTERE, by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Hurrah! I'm off to finistere, to finistere, to finistere Last Line: When I come back to montparnasse and dream of finistere Subject(s): Fish & Fishing; Paris, France | ||||||||
HURRAH! I'm off to Finistere, to Finistere, to Finistere; My satchel's swinging on my back, my staff is in my hand; I've twenty louis in my purse, I know the sun and sea are there, And so I'm starting out to-day to tramp the golden land. I'll go alone and glorying, with on my lips a song of joy; I'll leave behind the city with its canker and its care; I'll swing along so sturdily -- oh, won't I be the happy boy! A-singing on the rocky roads, the roads of Finistere. Oh, have you been to Finistere, and do you know a whin-grey town That echoes to the clatter of a thousand wooden shoes? And have you seen the fisher-girls go gallivantin' up and down, And watched the tawny boats go out, and heard the roaring crews? Oh, would you sit with pipe and bowl, and dream upon some sunny quay, Or would you walk the windy heath and drink the cooler air; Oh, would you seek a cradled cove and tussle with the topaz sea! -- Pack up your kit to-morrow, lad, and haste to Finistere. Oh, I will go to Finistere, there's nothing that can hold me back. I'll laugh with Yves and Leon, and I'll chaff with Rose and Jeanne; I'll seek the little, quaint buvette that's kept by Mother Merdrinac, Who wears a cap of many frills, and swears just like a man. I'll yarn with hearty, hairy chaps who dance and leap and crack their heels; Who swallow cupfuls of cognac and never turn a hair; I'll watch the nut-brown boats come in with mullet, plaice and conger eels, The jewelled harvest of the sea they reap in Finistere. Yes, I'll come back from Finistere with memories of shining days, Of scaly nets and salty men in overalls of brown; Of ancient women knitting as they watch the tethered cattle graze By little nestling beaches where the gorse goes blazing down; Of headlands silvering the sea, of Calvarys against the sky, Of scorn of angry sunsets, and of Carnac grim and bare; Oh, won't I have the leaping veins, and tawny cheek and sparkling eye, When I come back to Montparnasse and dream of Finistere | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LO, WHERE HAUSSMANN COMES, SEE WHERE HE COMES by KENNETH KOCH A PARIS BLACKBIRD by LAURE-ANNE BOSSELAAR AT THE MUSEE RODIN IN PARIS by LAURE-ANNE BOSSELAAR NO GROUNDS FOR PROSECUTION by ANDRE BRETON DECEMBER 24TH, PARIS - NOTRE DAME by SANDRA CISNEROS CLANCY OF THE MOUNTED POLICE by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE |
|