Poet Robert Service

Robert Service

Robert Service Poems

  • 201.  
    Dusting my books I spent a busy day:
    Not ancient toes, time-hallowed and unread,but modern volumes, classics in their way,
  • 202.  
    So often in the mid of night
    I wake me in my bedWith utter panic of affright
  • 203.  
    Being a gaoler I'm supposed
    To be a hard-boiled guy;Yet never prison walls enclosed
  • 204.  
    I to a crumpled cabin came
    upon a hillside high,And with me was a withered dame
  • 205.  
    Addict of Punch and Judy shows
    I was when I was small;My kiddy laughter, I suppose,
  • 206.  
    The poppies that in Spring I sow,
    In rings of radiance gleam and glow,Like lords and ladies gay.
  • 207.  
    God dwells in you; in pride and shame,
    In all you do to blight or bless;In all you are of praise and blame,
  • 208.  
    “Lord God of Hosts,” the people pray,
    “Make strong our arms that we may slayOur cursed foe and win the day.”
  • 209.  
    I dreamed I saw three demi-gods who in a cafe sat,
    And one was small and crapulous, and one was large and fat;And one was eaten up with vice and verminous at that.
  • 210.  
    The God of Scribes looked down and saw
    The bitter band of seven,Who had outraged his holy law
  • 211.  
    A passion to be free
    Has ever mastered me;To none beneath the sun
  • 212.  
    I'm goin' ‘ome to Blighty-ain't I glad to ‘ave the chance!
    I'm loaded up wiv fightin', and I've ‘ad my fill o' France;I'm feelin' so excited-like, I want to sing and dance,
  • 213.  
    Another day of toil and strife,
    Another page so white,Within that fateful Log of Life
  • 214.  
    O dear little cabin, I've loved you so long,
    And now I must bid you good-bye!I've filled you with laughter, I've thrilled you with song,
  • 215.  
    Heaven's mighty sweet, I guess;
    Ain't no rush to git there:Been a sinner, more or less;
  • 216.  
    While for me gapes the greedy grave
    It don't make senseThat I should have a crazy crave
  • 217.  
    And so when he reached my bed
    The General made a stand:“My brave young fellow,” he said,
  • 218.  
    'Twas on an iron, icy day
    I saw a pirate gull down-plane,And hover in a wistful way
  • 219.  
    If you're up against a bruiser and you're getting knocked about-

  • 220.  
    Somehow the skies don't seem so blue
    As they used to be;Blossoms have a fainter hue,
  • 221.  
    Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
    As if they had been dipped in gore,I'd like to set you lugging pails
  • 222.  
    They're hanging Bill at eight o' clock,
    And millions will applaud.He killed, and so they have to kill,
  • 223.  
    I had a bitter enemy,
    His heart to hate he gave,And when I died he swore that he
  • 224.  
    And when I come to the dim trail-end,
    I who have been Life's rover,This is all I would ask, my friend,
  • 225.  
    Mary and I were twenty-two
    When we were wed;A well-matched pair, right smart to view
  • 226.  
    “I'm taking pen in hand this night, and hard it is for me;
    My poor old fingers tremble so, my hand is stiff and slow,And even with my glasses on I'm troubled sore to see. . . .
  • 227.  
    I sat her in her baby chair,
    And set upon its trayHer kewpie doll and teddy bear,
  • 228.  
    Said he: “You saw the Master clear;
    By Rushy Pond alone he sat,Serene and silent as a seer,
  • 229.  
    Unto his housemaid spoke the Laird:
    “Tonight the Bishop is our guest;The spare room must be warmed and aired:
  • 230.  
    “I'm going, Billy, old fellow. Hist, lad! Don't make any noise.
    There's Boches to beat all creation, the pitch of a bomb away.I've fixed the note to your collar, you've got to get back to my Boys,
  • 231.  
    A father's pride I used to know,
    A mother's love was mine;For swinish husks I let them go,
  • 232.  
    Just Home and Love! the words are small
    Four little letters unto each;And yet you will not find in all
  • 233.  
    His portrait hung upon the wall.
    Oh how at us he used to stare.Each Sunday when I made my call!-
  • 234.  
    Hot digitty dog! Now, ain't it queer,
    I've been abroad for over a year;Seen a helluva lot since then,
  • 235.  
    I met upon a narrow way,
    Dead weary from his toil,A fellow warped and gnarled and grey,
  • 236.  
    I have some friends, some worthy friends,
    And worthy friends are rare:These carpet slippers on my feet,
  • 237.  
    I have done with love and lust,
    I reck not for gold or fame;I await familiar dust
  • 238.  
    I will not fight: though proud of pith
    I hold no one worth striving with;And should resentment burn my breast
  • 239.  
    If you had a friend strong, simple, true,
    Who knew your faults and who understood;Who believed in the very best of you,
  • 240.  
    Oh happy he who cannot see
    With scientific eyes;Who does not know how flowers grow,
  • 241.  
    I'm scared of it all, God's truth! so I am;
    It's too big and brutal for me.My nerve's on the raw and I don't give a damn
  • 242.  
    A gaunt and hoary slab of stone
    I found in desert place,And wondered why it lay alone
  • 243.  
    Full well I trow that when I die
    Down drops the curtain;Another show is all my eye
  • 244.  
    I grabbed the new Who's Who to see
    My name-but it was not.Said I: “The form they posted me
  • 245.  
    When I am dead I will not care
    Forever more,If sky be radiantly fair
  • 246.  
    Three Triangles

  • 247.  
    Because my teeth are feebly few
    I cannot bolt my grub like you,But have to chew and chew and chew
  • 248.  
    The height of wisdom seems to me
    That of a child;So let my ageing vision be
  • 249.  
    Heigh ho! to sleep I vainly try;
    Since twelve I haven't closed an eye,And now it's three, and as I lie,
  • 250.  
    How often have I started out
    With no thought in my noodle,And wandered here and there about,
Total 831 poems written by Robert Service

Poem of the day

Henry Lawson Poem
Laughing And Sneering
 by Henry Lawson

WHAT tho' the world does me ill turns
And cares my life environ;
I'd sooner laugh with Bobbie Burns
Than sneer with titl'd Byron.

The smile has always been the best;
'Tis stronger than the frown, sirs:
And Venus smiled the waves to rest;

Read complete poem

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