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

Two Songs For Solitude: The Solitary
 by Sara Teasdale

Let them think I love them more than I do,
Let them think I care, though I go alone,
If it lifts their pride, what is it to me
Who am self-complete as a flower or a stone?

It is one to me that they come or go
If I have myself and the drive of my will,
And strength to climb on a summer night

Read complete poem

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