All Poems
/ page 2755 of 3210 /
The Old Armchair
© Robert William Service
In all the pubs from Troon to Ayr
Grandfather's father would repair
With Bobby Burns, a drouthy pair,
The glass to clink;
Awake To Smile
© Robert William Service
When I blink sunshine in my eyes
And hail the amber morn,
Before the rosy dew-drop dries
With sparkle on the thorn;
The Ballad Of Casey's Billy-Goat
© Robert William Service
You've heard of "Casey at The Bat,"
And "Casey's Tabble Dote";
But now it's time
To write a rhyme
Of "Casey's Billy-goat."
The Three Voices
© Robert William Service
The waves have a story to tell me,
As I lie on the lonely beach;
Chanting aloft in the pine-tops,
The wind has a lesson to teach;
But the stars sing an anthem of glory
I cannot put into speech.
My House
© Robert William Service
I have a house I've lived in long:
I can't recall my going in.
'Twere better bartered for a song
Ere ruin, rot and rust begin.
Bastard
© Robert William Service
The very skies wee black with shame,
As near my moment drew;
The very hour before you cam
I felt I hated you.
The God Of Common-Sense
© Robert William Service
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.
Without I want in sympathy to pat a tender place.
Premonition
© Robert William Service
'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,
And the voice of my sweet was a silver bell.
The Sceptic
© Robert William Service
My Father Christmas passed away
When I was barely seven.
At twenty-one, alack-a-day,
I lost my hope of heaven.
O Lovely Lie
© Robert William Service
I told a truth, a tragic truth
That tore the sullen sky;
A million shuddered at my sooth
And anarchist was I.
The Aftermath
© Robert William Service
Although my blood I've shed
In war's red wrath,
Oh how I darkly dread
Its aftermath!
Poor Peter
© Robert William Service
Blind Peter Piper used to play
All up and down the city;
I'd often meet him on my way,
And throw a coin for pity.
The Ballad Of Hard-Luck Henry
© Robert William Service
That night he got to thinking of this far-off, unknown fair;
It seemed so sort of opportune, an answer to his prayer.
She flitted sweetly through his dreams, she haunted him by day,
She smiled through clouds of nicotine, she cheered his weary way.
At last he yielded to the spell; his course of love he set--
Wisconsin his objective point; his object, Margaret.
The Homicide
© Robert William Service
They say she speeded wanton wild
When she was warm with wine;
And so she killed a little child,
(Could have been yours or mine).
The Judge's verdict was not mild,
And heavy was the fine.
Les Grands Mutiles
© Robert William Service
I saw three wounded of the war:
And the first had lost his eyes;
And the second went on wheels and had
No legs below the thighs;
Making Good
© Robert William Service
No man can be a failure if he thinks he's a success;
he may not own his roof-tree overhead,
He may be on his uppers and have hocked his evening dress -
(Financially speaking - in the red)
The Ape And I
© Robert William Service
So in toils of trouble caught,
Oft I wonder with a sigh
If that blue-bummed ape is not
Happier than I?
Indifference
© Robert William Service
When I am dead I will not care
Forever more,
If sky be radiantly fair
Or tempest roar.
My Childhood God
© Robert William Service
When I was small the Lord appeared
Unto my mental eye
A gentle giant with a beard
Who homed up in the sky.
What Kisses Had John Keats?
© Robert William Service
I scanned two lines with some surmise
As over Keats I chanced to pore:
'And there I shut her wild, wild eyes
With kisses four.'
