Poet Robert Service

Robert Service

Robert Service Poems

  • 301.  
    It's mighty quiet in the house
    Since Mary Ellen quit me cold;I've swept the hearth and fed the mouse
  • 302.  
    There once was a Square, such a square little Square,
    And he loved a trim Triangle;But she was a flirt and around her skirt
  • 303.  
    On this festive first of May,
    Wending wistfully my wayThree sad sights I saw today.
  • 304.  
    In London City I evade
    For charming Burlington Arcade-For thee in youth I met a maid
  • 305.  
    In Mike Maloney's Nugget bar the hooch was flowin' free,
    An' One-eyed Mike was shakin' dice wi' Montreal Maree,An roarin' rageful warning when the boys got overwild,
  • 306.  
    Men of the High North, the wild sky is blazing;
    Islands of opal float on silver seas;Swift splendors kindle, barbaric, amazing;
  • 307.  
    “There's something in your face, Michael, I've seen it all the day;
    There's something quare that wasn't there when first ye wint away. . . .”
  • 308.  
    My lead dog Mike was like a bear;
    I reckon he was grizzly bred,For when he reared up in the air
  • 309.  
    There's a drip of honeysuckle in the deep green lane;
    There's old Martin jogging homeward on his worn old wain;There are cherry petals falling, and a cuckoo calling, calling,
  • 310.  
    Each time that I switch on the light
    A Miracle it seems to meThat I should rediscover sight
  • 311.  
    Miss Don't-do-this and Don't-do-that
    Has such a sunny smileYou cannot help but chuckle at
  • 312.  
    Missis Moriarty called last week, and says she to me, says she:
    “Sure the heart of me's broken entirely now-it's the fortunate woman you are;You've still got your Dinnis to cheer up your home, but me Patsy boy where is he?
  • 313.  
    He was my one and only love;
    My world was mirror for his face.We were as close as hand and glove,
  • 314.  
    You've heard of Belching Billy, likewise known as Windy Bill,
    As punk a chunk of Yukon scum as ever robbed a sluice;A satellite of Soapy Smith, a capper and a shill,
  • 315.  
    A child saw in the morning skies
    The dissipated-looking moon,And opened wide her big blue eyes,
  • 316.  

  • 317.  
    Mud is Beauty in the making,
    Mud is melody awaking;Laughter, leafy whisperings,
  • 318.  
    I am the Cannon King, behold!
    I perish on a throne of gold.With forest far and turret high,
  • 319.  
    He was my best and oldest friend.
    I'd known him all my life.And yet I'm sure towards the end
  • 320.  
    O'er the dark pines she sees the silver moon,
    And in the west, all tremulous, a star;And soothing sweet she hears the mellow tune
  • 321.  
    A barefoot boy I went to school
    To save a cobbler's fee,For though the porridge pot was full
  • 322.  
    When first I left Blighty they gave me a bay'nit
    And told me it ‘ad to be smothered wiv gore;But blimey! I ‘aven't been able to stain it,
  • 323.  
    I never killed a bear because
    I always thought them critters was So kindo' cute;
  • 324.  
    Before I drink myself to death,
    God, let me finish up my Book!At night, I fear, I fight for breath,
  • 325.  
    My Boss keeps sporty girls, they say;
    His belly's big with cheer.He squanders in a single day
  • 326.  
    While I make rhymes my brother John
    Makes shiny shoes which dames try on,And finding to their fit and stance
  • 327.  
    From off my calendar today
    A leaf I tear;So swiftly passes smiling May
  • 328.  
    “A year to live,” the Doctor said;
    “There is no cure,” and shook his head.Ah me! I felt as good as dead.
  • 329.  
    A hundred years is a lot of living
    I've often thought. and I'll know, maybe,Some day if the gods are good in giving,
  • 330.  
    In idle dream with pipe in hand
    I looked across the Square,And saw the little chapel stand
  • 331.  
    When I was small the Lord appeared
    Unto my mental eyeA gentle giant with a beard
  • 332.  
    Deeming that I was due to die
    I framed myself a coffin;So full of graveyard zeal was I,
  • 333.  
    ‘Nay; I don't need a hearing aid'
    I told Mama-in-law;‘For if I had I'd be afraid
  • 334.  
    I wrote a poem to the moon
    But no one noticed it;Although I hoped that late or soon
  • 335.  
    I bought a cuckoo clock
    And glad was ITo hear its tick and tock,
  • 336.  
    Sitting in the dentist's chair,
    Wishing that I wasn't there,To forget and pass the time
  • 337.  
    'Twas in a pub just off the Strand
    When I was in my cups,There passed a bloke with in his hand
  • 338.  
    Each day when it's anighing three
    Old Dick looks at the clock,Then proudly brings my stick to me
  • 339.  
    Some poets sing of scenery;
    Some to fair maids make sonnets sweet.A fig for love and greenery,
  • 340.  
    Being a writer I receive
    Sweet screeds from folk of every land;Some are so weird you'd scarce believe,
  • 341.  
    I hate my neighbour Widow Green;
    I'd like to claw her face;But if I did she'd make a scene
  • 342.  
    A Belgian Priest-Soldier Speaks;

  • 343.  
    The man above was a murderer, the man below was a thief;
    And I lay there in the bunk between, ailing beyond belief;A weary armful of skin and bone, wasted with pain and grief.
  • 344.  
    “Let's make him a sailor,” said Father,
    “And he will adventure the sea.”“A soldier,” said Mother, “is rather
  • 345.  
    The world is sadly sick, they say,
    And plagued by woe and pain.But look! How looms my garden gay,
  • 346.  
    Here is my Garret up five flights of stairs;
    Here's where I deal in dreams and ply in fancies,Here is the wonder-shop of all my wares,
  • 347.  
    When looking back I dimly see
    The trails my feet have trod,Some hand divine, it seems to me,
  • 348.  
    Of all the boys with whom I fought
    In Africa and Sicily,Bill was the bravest of the lot
  • 349.  
    I love the cheery bustle
    Of children round the house,The tidy maids a-hustle,
  • 350.  
    Day after day behold me plying
    My pen within an office drear;The dullest dog, till homeward hieing,
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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