Robert Service Poems

  • 451.  
    Men have navels more or less;
    Some are neat, some notBeing fat I must confess
  • 452.  
    To tribulations of mankind
    Dame Nature is indifferent;To human sorrow she is blind,
  • 453.  
    In kindergarten classed
    Dislike they knew;And as the years went past
  • 454.  
    I've made my Will. I don't believe
    In luxury and wealth;And to those loving ones who grieve
  • 455.  
    At dusk I saw a craintive mouse
    That sneaked and stole around the house;At first I took it for a ghost,
  • 456.  
    To me at night the stars are vocal.
    They say: ‘Your planet's oh so local!A speck of dust in heaven's ceiling;
  • 457.  
    I used to think a pot of ink
    Held magic in its fluid,And I would ply a pen when I
  • 458.  
    Of twin daughters I'm the mother-
    Lord! how I was proud of them;Each the image of the other,
  • 459.  
    For all good friends who care to read,
    here let me lyre my living creed . . .
  • 460.  
    I haven't worn my evening dress
    For nearly twenty years;Oh I'm unsocial, I confess,
  • 461.  
    I've often wondered why
    Old chaps who choose to dieIn evil passes,
  • 462.  
    I must not let my boy Dick down,
    Knight of the air.With wings of light he won renown
  • 463.  
    I think the things I own and love
    Acquire a sense of me,That gives them value far above
  • 464.  
    When I am old and worse for wear
    I want to buy a rocking-chair,And set it on a porch where shine
  • 465.  
    If she met him or he met her,
    I knew that something must occur;For they were just like flint and steel
  • 466.  
    We was in a crump-'ole, ‘im and me;
    Fightin' wiv our bayonets was we;Fightin' ‘ard as ‘ell we was,
  • 467.  
    I have a tiny piney wood;
    my trees are only fifty,Yet give me shade and solitude
  • 468.  
    I made a picture; all my heart
    I put in it, and all I knewOf canvas-cunning and of Art,
  • 469.  
    To rest my fagged brain now and then,
    When wearied of my proper labors,I lay aside my lagging pen
  • 470.  
    I've been sittin' starin', starin' at ‘is muddy pair of boots,
    And tryin' to convince meself it's ‘im.(Look out there, lad! That sniper-'e's a dysey when ‘e shoots;
  • 471.  
    Of Poetry I've been accused,
    But much more often I have not;Oh, I have been so much amused
  • 472.  
    It's slim and trim and bound in blue;
    Its leaves are crisp and edged with gold;Its words are simple, stalwart too;
  • 473.  
    I haled me a woman from the street,
    Shameless, but, oh, so fair!I bade her sit in the model's seat
  • 474.  
    Like prim Professor of a College
    I primed my shelves with books of knowledge;And now I stand before them dumb,
  • 475.  
    I've got a little job on ‘and, the time is drawin' nigh;
    At seven by the Captain's watch I'm due to go and do it;I wants to ‘ave it nice and neat, and pleasin' to the eye,
  • 476.  
    'Tis true my garments threadbare are,
    And sorry poor I seem;But inly I am richer far
  • 477.  
    Here in the Autumn of my days
    My life is mellowed in a haze.Unpleasant sights are none to clear,
  • 478.  
    I met an ancient man who mushed
    With Peary to the Pole.Said I, “In all that land so hushed
  • 479.  
    My first I wed when just sixteen
    And he was sixty-five.He treated me like any queen
  • 480.  
    A thousand books my library
    Contains;And all are primed, it seems to me
  • 481.  
    I have a house I've lived in long:
    I can't recall my going in.'Twere better bartered for a song
  • 482.  
    Day after day behold me plying
    My pen within an office drear;The dullest dog, till homeward hieing,
  • 483.  
    I love the cheery bustle
    Of children round the house,The tidy maids a-hustle,
  • 484.  
    Of all the boys with whom I fought
    In Africa and Sicily,Bill was the bravest of the lot
  • 485.  
    When looking back I dimly see
    The trails my feet have trod,Some hand divine, it seems to me,
  • 486.  
    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,
  • 487.  
    The world is sadly sick, they say,
    And plagued by woe and pain.But look! How looms my garden gay,
  • 488.  
    “Let's make him a sailor,” said Father,
    “And he will adventure the sea.”“A soldier,” said Mother, “is rather
  • 489.  
    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.
  • 490.  
    A Belgian Priest-Soldier Speaks;

  • 491.  
    I hate my neighbour Widow Green;
    I'd like to claw her face;But if I did she'd make a scene
  • 492.  
    Being a writer I receive
    Sweet screeds from folk of every land;Some are so weird you'd scarce believe,
  • 493.  
    Some poets sing of scenery;
    Some to fair maids make sonnets sweet.A fig for love and greenery,
  • 494.  
    Each day when it's anighing three
    Old Dick looks at the clock,Then proudly brings my stick to me
  • 495.  
    'Twas in a pub just off the Strand
    When I was in my cups,There passed a bloke with in his hand
  • 496.  
    Sitting in the dentist's chair,
    Wishing that I wasn't there,To forget and pass the time
  • 497.  
    I bought a cuckoo clock
    And glad was ITo hear its tick and tock,
  • 498.  
    I wrote a poem to the moon
    But no one noticed it;Although I hoped that late or soon
  • 499.  
    ‘Nay; I don't need a hearing aid'
    I told Mama-in-law;‘For if I had I'd be afraid
  • 500.  
    Deeming that I was due to die
    I framed myself a coffin;So full of graveyard zeal was I,
Total 831 poems written by Robert Service

Poem of the day

Thomas Moore Poem
Sing, Sweet Harp
 by Thomas Moore

Sing, sweet Harp, oh sing to me
Some song of ancient days,
Whose sounds, in this sad memory,
Long-buried dreams shall raise; --
Some lay that tells of vanish'd fame,
Whose light once round us shone,
Of noble pride, now turn'd to shame,
And hopes for ever gone.
...

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