Robert Service Poems

  • 551.  

  • 552.  
    Come out, O Little Moccasins, and frolic on the snow!
    Come out, O tiny beaded feet, and twinkle in the light!I'll play the old Red River reel, you used to love it so:
  • 553.  
    Wars have been and wars will be
    Till the human race is run;Battles red by land and sea,
  • 554.  
    Oh Lip-Stick Liz was in the biz, That's the oldest known in history;
    She had a lot of fancy rags, Of her form she made no myst'ry.She had a man, a fancy man, His name was Alexander,
  • 555.  
    If the good King only knew,
    Lindy Lou,What a cherub child are you,
  • 556.  
    O Tavern of the Golden Snail!
    Ten sous have I, so I'll regale;Ten sous your amber brew to sip
  • 557.  
    I saw three wounded of the war:
    And the first had lost his eyes;And the second went on wheels and had
  • 558.  
    You who have lived in the land,
    You who have trusted the trail,You who are strong to withstand,
  • 559.  
    The leaves are falling one and one,
    Each like a life to me,As over-soonly in the sun
  • 560.  
    School yourself to savour most
    Joys that have but little cost;Prove the best of life is free,
  • 561.  
    Let laureates sing with rapturous swing
    Of the wonder and glory of work;Let pulpiteers preach and with passion impeach
  • 562.  
    I Laugh at Life: its antics make for me a giddy games,
    Where only foolish fellows take themselves with solemn aim.I laugh at pomp and vanity, at riches, rank and pride;
  • 563.  
    What would I choose to see when I
    To this bright earth shall bid good-bye?When fades forever from my sight
  • 564.  
    A grey gull hovered overhead,
    Then wisely flew away.‘In half a jiffy you'll be dead,'
  • 565.  
    A ray of sun strayed softly round,
    For something to caress,Until a resting place it found
  • 566.  
    Alphonso Rex who died in Rome
    Was quite a fistful as a kid;For when I visited his home,
  • 567.  
    Now Kelly was no fighter;
    He loved his pipe and glass;An easygoing blighter,
  • 568.  
    My Louis loved me oh so well
    And spiered me for his wife;He would have haled me from the hell
  • 569.  
    It was the steamer Alice May that sailed the Yukon foam.
    And touched in every river camp from Dawson down to Nome.It was her builder, owner, pilot, Captain Silas Geer,
  • 570.  
    A very humble pen I ply
    Beneath a cottage thatch;And in the sunny hours I try
  • 571.  
    Just think! some night the stars will gleam
    Upon a cold, grey stone,And trace a name with silver beam,
  • 572.  
    You've heard of Julot the apache, and Gigolette, his mome. . . .
    Montmartre was their hunting-ground, but Belville was their home.A little chap just like a boy, with smudgy black mustache,-
  • 573.  
    Oh Julie Claire was very fair,
    Yet generous as well,And many a lad of metal had
  • 574.  
    I thought I would go daft when Joey died.
    He was my first, and wise beyond his years.For nigh a hundred nights I cried and cried,
  • 575.  
    Within a pub that's off the Strand and handy to the bar,
    With pipe in mouth and mug in hand sat Jobson of the Star.“Come, sit ye down, ye wond'ring wight, and have a yarn,” says he.
  • 576.  
    He was a traveling tinker lad
    And I was a gypsy jade,Yet never were two so gay and glad,
  • 577.  
    Oh ye whose hearts are resonant, and ring to War's romance,
    Hear ye the story of a boy, a peasant boy of France;A lad uncouth and warped with toil, yet who, when trial came,
  • 578.  
    My daughter Jane makes dresses
    For beautiful Princesses;But though she's plain is Jane,
  • 579.  
    Past ash cans and alley cats,
    Fetid. overflowing gutters,Leprous lines of rancid flats
  • 580.  
    Lone amid the cafe's cheer,
    Sad of heart am I to-night;Dolefully I drink my beer,
  • 581.  
    I have no brief for gambling, nay
    The notion I expressThat money earned 's the only way
  • 582.  
    How often have I started out
    With no thought in my noodle,And wandered here and there about,
  • 583.  
    Heigh ho! to sleep I vainly try;
    Since twelve I haven't closed an eye,And now it's three, and as I lie,
  • 584.  
    The height of wisdom seems to me
    That of a child;So let my ageing vision be
  • 585.  
    Because my teeth are feebly few
    I cannot bolt my grub like you,But have to chew and chew and chew
  • 586.  
    Three Triangles

  • 587.  
    When I am dead I will not care
    Forever more,If sky be radiantly fair
  • 588.  
    I grabbed the new Who's Who to see
    My name-but it was not.Said I: “The form they posted me
  • 589.  
    Full well I trow that when I die
    Down drops the curtain;Another show is all my eye
  • 590.  
    A gaunt and hoary slab of stone
    I found in desert place,And wondered why it lay alone
  • 591.  
    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
  • 592.  
    Oh happy he who cannot see
    With scientific eyes;Who does not know how flowers grow,
  • 593.  
    If you had a friend strong, simple, true,
    Who knew your faults and who understood;Who believed in the very best of you,
  • 594.  
    I will not fight: though proud of pith
    I hold no one worth striving with;And should resentment burn my breast
  • 595.  
    I have done with love and lust,
    I reck not for gold or fame;I await familiar dust
  • 596.  
    I have some friends, some worthy friends,
    And worthy friends are rare:These carpet slippers on my feet,
  • 597.  
    I met upon a narrow way,
    Dead weary from his toil,A fellow warped and gnarled and grey,
  • 598.  
    Hot digitty dog! Now, ain't it queer,
    I've been abroad for over a year;Seen a helluva lot since then,
  • 599.  
    His portrait hung upon the wall.
    Oh how at us he used to stare.Each Sunday when I made my call!-
  • 600.  
    Just Home and Love! the words are small
    Four little letters unto each;And yet you will not find in all
Total 831 poems written by Robert Service

Poem of the day

A. E. Housman Poem
When Smoke Stood Up From Ludlow
 by A. E. Housman

When smoke stood up from Ludlow,
And mist blew off from Teme,
And blithe afield to ploughing
Against the morning beam
I strode beside my team,

The blackbird in the coppice
Looked out to see me stride,

Read complete poem

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