Robert Service Poems

  • 201.  
    If we could roll back History
    A century, let's say,And start from there, I'm sure that we
  • 202.  
    Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips,
    And the mouth so mocking gay,A wanton you to the finger-tips,
  • 203.  
    From wrath-red dawn to wrath-red dawn,
    The guns have brayed without abate;And now the sick sun looks upon
  • 204.  
    Have ever you heard of the Land of Beyond,
    That dreams at the gates of the day?Alluring it lies at the skirts of the skies,
  • 205.  
    The lonely sunsets flare forlorn
    Down valleys dreadly desolate;The lordly mountains soar in scorn
  • 206.  
    “Miss Rosemary,” I dourly said,
    “Our balance verges on the red,We must cut down our overhead.
  • 207.  
    The Junior God looked from his place
    In the conning towers of heaven,And he saw the world through the span of space
  • 208.  
    The Judge looked down, his face was grim,
    He scratched his ear;The gangster's moll looked up at him
  • 209.  
    It's good the great green earth to roam,
    Where sights of awe the soul inspire;But oh, it's best, the coming home,
  • 210.  
    I

  • 211.  
    Oh you who have daring deeds to tell!
    And you who have felt Ambition's spell!Have you heard of the louse who longed to dwell
  • 212.  
    I never could imagine God:
    I don't suppose I ever will.Beside His altar fire I nod
  • 213.  
    They say she speeded wanton wild
    When she was warm with wine;And so she killed a little child,
  • 214.  
    My boy's come back; he's here at last;
    He came home on a special train.My longing and my ache are past,
  • 215.  
    You speak to me, but does your speech
    With truest truth your thought convey?I listen to your words and each
  • 216.  
    The leaves are sick and jaundiced, they
    Drift down the air;December's sky is sodden grey,
  • 217.  
    There where the mighty mountains bare their fangs unto the moon,
    There where the sullen sun-dogs glare in the snow-bright, bitter noon,And the glacier-glutted streams sweep down at the clarion call of June.
  • 218.  
    “Tuberculosis should not be,”
    The old professor said.“If folks would hearken unto me
  • 219.  
    Moko, the Educated Ape is here,
    The pet of vaudeville, so the posters say, And every night the gaping people pay
  • 220.  
    In city shop a hat I saw
    That to my fancy seemed to strike,I gave my wage to buy the straw,
  • 221.  
    There was a woman, and she was wise; woefully wise was she;
    She was old, so old, yet her years all told were but a score and three;And she knew by heart, from finish to start, the Book of Iniquity.
  • 222.  
    Throughout my life I see
    A guiding hand;The pitfalls set for me
  • 223.  
    “Hae ye heard whit ma auld mither's postit tae me?
    It fair maks me hamesick,” says Private McPhee.“And whit did she send ye?” says Private McPhun,
  • 224.  
    I've wearied of so many things
    Adored in youthful days;Music no more my spirit wings,
  • 225.  
    Now Eddie Malone got a swell grammyfone to draw all the trade to his store;
    An' sez he: “Come along for a season of song, which the like ye had niver before.”Then Dogrib, an' Slave, an' Yellow-knife brave, an' Cree in his dinky canoe,
  • 226.  
    My Daddy used to wallop me for every small offense:
    “Its takes a hair-brush back,” said he, “to teach kids common-sense.”And still to-day I scarce can look a hair-brush in the face.
  • 227.  
    Each sunny day upon my way
    A goat I pass;He has a beard of silver grey,
  • 228.  
    Smith, great writer of stories, drank; found it immortalized his pen;
    Fused in his brain-pan, else a blank, heavens of glory now and then;Gave him the magical genius touch; God-given power to gouge out, fling
  • 229.  
    A-sittin' in the Bull and Pump
    With double gins to keep us cheerySays she to me, says Polly Crump”
  • 230.  
    “But it isn't playing the game,” he said,
    And he slammed his books away;“The Latin and Greek I've got in my head
  • 231.  
    Because I have no garden and
    No pence to buy,Before the flower shop I stand
  • 232.  
    The Rector met a little lass
    Who led a heifer by a rope.Said he: “Why don't you go to Mass?
  • 233.  
    I'm dead.
    Officially I'm dead. Their hope is past.How long I stood as missing! Now, at last
  • 234.  
    The Sergeant of a Highland Reg-
    -Iment was drilling of his men;With temper notably on edge
  • 235.  
    Life, you've been mighty good to me,
    Yet here's the end of the trail;No more mountain, moor and sea,
  • 236.  
    In Pat Mahoney's booze bazaar the fun was fast and free,
    And Ragtime Billy spanked the baby grand;While caroling a saucy song was Montreal Maree,
  • 237.  
    The lone man gazed and gazed upon his gold,
    His sweat, his blood, the wage of weary days;But now how sweet, how doubly sweet to hold
  • 238.  
    Said Will: “I'll stay and till the land.”
    Said Jack: “I'll sail the sea.”So one went forth kit-bag in hand,
  • 239.  
    Think not because you raise
    A gleaming sword,That you will win to praise
  • 240.  
    Said she: ‘Although my husband Jim
    Is with his home content,I never should have married him,
  • 241.  
    We're taking Marie Toro to her home in Père-La-Chaise;
    We're taking Marie Toro to her last resting-place.Behold! her hearse is hung with wreaths till everything is hid
  • 242.  
    In stilly grove beside the sea
    He mingles colours, measures space;A bronze and breezy man is he,
  • 243.  
    My days are haunted by the thought
    Of men in coils of Justice caughtWith stone and steel, in chain and cell,
  • 244.  
    No lyric line I ever penned
    The praise this parasitic bird;And what is more, I don't intend
  • 245.  
    There are strange things done in the midnight sun
    By the men who moil for gold;The Arctic trails have their secret tales
  • 246.  
    The clover was in blossom, an' the year was at the June,
    When Flap-jack Billy hit the town, likewise O'Flynn's saloon.The frost was on the fodder an' the wind was growin' keen,
  • 247.  
    ‘Ave you seen Bill's mug in the Noos to-day?
    ‘E's gyned the Victoriar Cross, they say;Little Bill wot would grizzle and run away,
  • 248.  
    . . . So I walked among the willows very quietly all night;
    There was no moon at all, at all; no timid star alight;There was no light at all, at all; I wint from tree to tree,
  • 249.  
    Fat lady, in your four-wheeled chair,
    Dolled up to beat the band,At me you arrogantly stare
  • 250.  
    “How good God is to me,” he said;
    “For have I not a mansion tall,With trees and lawns of velvet tread,
Total 831 poems written by Robert Service

Poem of the day

Thomas Hood Poem
The Forsaken
 by Thomas Hood

The dead are in their silent graves,
And the dew is cold above,
And the living weep and sigh,
Over dust that once was love.
Once I only wept the dead,
But now the living cause my pain:
How couldst thou steal me from my tears,
To leave me to my tears again?
...

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