Robert Service Poems

  • 401.  
    Is it because I'm bent and grey,
    Though wearing rather well,That I can slickly get away
  • 402.  
    Oh Maggie, do you mind the day
    We went to school together,And as we stoppit by the way
  • 403.  
    The harridan who holds the inn
    At which I toss a pot,Is old and uglier than sin,-
  • 404.  
    I was Mojeska's leading man
    And famous parts I used to play,But now I do the best I can
  • 405.  
    What man has not betrayed
    Some sacred trust?If haply you are made
  • 406.  
    Oh, it's pleasant sitting here,
    Seeing all the people pass;You beside your bock of beer,
  • 407.  
    O God, take the sun from the sky!
    It's burning me, scorching me up.God, can't You hear my cry?
  • 408.  
    We brought him in from between the lines: we'd better have let him lie;
    For what's the use of risking one's skin for a tyke that's going to die?What's the use of tearing him loose under a gruelling fire,
  • 409.  
    Full fifty merry maids I heard
    One summer morn a-singing;And each was like a joyous bird
  • 410.  
    “Give me my daily bread.
    It seems so odd,When all is done and said,
  • 411.  
    “Flowers, only flowers-bring me dainty posies,
    Blossoms for forgetfulness,” that was all he said;So we sacked our gardens, violets and roses,
  • 412.  
    A pote is sure a goofy guy;
    He ain't got guts like you or I To tell the score;
  • 413.  
    All day long when the shells sail over
    I stand at the sandbags and take my chance;But at night, at night I'm a reckless rover,
  • 414.  
    Lolling on a bank of thyme
    Drunk with Spring I made this rhyme. . . .
  • 415.  
    Mother focused with a frown
    The part of me where I sit down.Said she: “Your pants are wearing through;
  • 416.  
    God's truth! these be the bitter times.
    In vain I sing my sheaf of rhymes,And hold my battered hat for dimes.
  • 417.  
    Pedlar's coming down the street,
    Housewives beat a swift retreat.Don't you answer to the bell;
  • 418.  
    If I could practise what I preach,
    Of fellows there would few be finer;If I were true to what I teach
  • 419.  
    My destiny it is tonight
    To sit with pensive browBeside my study fire and write
  • 420.  
    There were twin artists A. and B.
    Who painted pictures two,And hung them in my galley
  • 421.  
    For oh, when the war will be over
    We'll go and we'll look for our dead;We'll go when the bee's on the clover,
  • 422.  
    Because I love the soothing weed
    And am of sober type,I'd choose me for a friend in need
  • 423.  
    I greet the challenge of the dawn
    With weary, bleary eyes;Into the sky so ashen wan
  • 424.  
    I own a gorgeous Cadillac,
    A chauffeur garbed in blue;And as I sit behind his back
  • 425.  
    They asked the Bard of Ayr to dine;
    The banquet hall was fit and fine, With gracing it a Lord;
  • 426.  
    My garden hath a slender path
    With ivy overgrown,A secret place where once would pace
  • 427.  
    The English and the French were met
    Upon the field of future battle;The foes were formidably set
  • 428.  
    Nurse, won't you let him in?
    He's barkin' an' scratchen' the door,Makin' so dreffel a din
  • 429.  
    My garden robin in the Spring
    Was rapturous with glee,And followed me with wistful wing
  • 430.  
    Mumsie and Dad are raven dark
    And I am lily blonde.‘'Tis strange,' I once heard nurse remark,
  • 431.  
    Blind Peter Piper used to play
    All up and down the city;I'd often meet him on my way,
  • 432.  
    ‘A man should write to please himself,'
    He proudly said.Well, see his poems on the shelf,
  • 433.  
    Courage mes gars:
    La guerre est proche.
  • 434.  
    Painter, would you make my picture?
    Just forget the moral stricture. Let me sit
  • 435.  
    The lady at the corner wicket
    Sold me a stamp, I stooped to lick it,And on the envelope to stick it;
  • 436.  
    When young I was an Atheist,
    Yea, pompous as a pigeonNo opportunity I missed
  • 437.  
    You talk o' prayer an' such-
    Well, I jest don't know how;I guess I got as much
  • 438.  
    In youth I gnawed life's bitter rind
    And shared the rugged lotOf fellows rude and unrefined,
  • 439.  
    'Twas a year ago and the moon was bright
    (Oh, I remember so well, so well);I walked with my love in a sea of light,
  • 440.  
    Jerry MacMullen, the millionaire,
    Driving a red-meat bus out there-How did he win his Croix de Guerre?
  • 441.  
    Oh you who are shy of the popular eye,
    (Though most of us seek to survive it)Just think of the goldfish who wanted to die
  • 442.  
    It hurts my pride that I should be
    The issue of a night of lust;Yet even Bishops, you'll agree,
  • 443.  
    Oh how it would enable me
    To titillate my vanityIf you should choose to label me
  • 444.  
    The red-roofed house of dream design
    Looks three ways on the sea;For fifty years I've made it mine,
  • 445.  
    The porter in the Pullman car
    Was charming, as they sometimes are.He scanned my baggage tags: “Are you
  • 446.  
    One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar,
    To flicker feebly, or to soar, a star; It lies with thee-the choice is thine, is thine,
  • 447.  
    Rosemary has of dolls a dozen,
    Yet she disdains them all;While Marie Rose, her pauper cousin
  • 448.  
    Behold! the Spanish flag they're raising
    Before the Palace courtyard gate;To watch its progress bold and blazing
  • 449.  
    Poets may praise a wattle thatch
    Doubtfully waterproof;Let me uplift my lowly latch
  • 450.  
    It's not for laws I've broken
    That bitter tears I've wept,But solemn vows I've spoken
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

Popular Poets

...