Poems begining by A
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Apollo Belvedere
© Robert William Service
A-sitttin' on a cracker box an' spittin' in the stove,
I took a sudden notion that I'd kindo' like to rove;
An' so I bought a ticket, jest as easy as could be,
From Pumpkinville in Idaho to Rome in Italy;
An' found myself in seven days of mostly atmosphere
A-starin' at a statoo called Appoller Belvydeer.
An Epicure
© Robert William Service
Should you preserve white mice in honey
Don't use imported ones from China,
For though they cost you less in money
You'll find the Japanese ones finer.
At Eighty Years
© Robert William Service
As nothingness draws near
How I can see
Inexorably clear
My vanity.
A Sourdough Story
© Robert William Service
Hark to the Sourdough story, told at sixty below,
When the pipes are lit and we smoke and spit
Into the campfire glow.
Rugged are we and hoary, and statin' a general rule,
A genooine Sourdough story
Ain't no yarn for the Sunday School.
Alpine Holiday
© Robert William Service
He took the grade in second - quite a climb,
Dizzy and dangerous, yet how sublime!
The road went up and up; it curved around
The mountain and the gorge grew more profound.
He drove serenely, with no hint of haste;
And then she felt his arm go round her waist.
A Snifter
© Robert William Service
After working hard all day
In the office,
How much worse on homeward way
My old cough is!
A Song Of The Sandbags
© Robert William Service
No, Bill, I'm not a-spooning out no patriotic tosh
(The cove be'ind the sandbags ain't a death-or-glory cuss).
And though I strafes 'em good and 'ard I doesn't 'ate the Boche,
I guess they're mostly decent, just the same as most of us.
Accordion
© Robert William Service
Yes, I'll hank you, and I'll spank you,
And I'll everlasting yank you
To the cinder-swinging satellites of Hell.
Aspiration
© Robert William Service
When I was daft (as urchins are),
And full if fairy lore,
I aimed an arrow at a star
And hit - the barnyard door.
A Rusty Nail
© Robert William Service
Yet was it not that day of Fate,
Of cruelty insane,
Climaxing centuries of hate
That woke our souls to pain!
And are we not the living seed
Of those who did the deed!
An Old Story
© Robert William Service
They threw him in a prison cell;
He moaned upon his bed.
And when he crept from coils of hell:
"Last night you killed," they said.
A Little Prayer
© Robert William Service
Let us be thankful, Lord, for little things -
The song of birds, the rapture of the rose;
Cloud-dappled skies, the laugh of limpid springs,
Drowned sunbeams and the perfume April blows;
Bronze wheat a-shimmer, purple shade of trees -
Let us be thankful, Lord of Life, for these!
A Domestic Tragedy
© Robert William Service
Clorinda met me on the way
As I came from the train;
Her face was anything but gay,
In fact, suggested pain.
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;
A Song Of Success
© Robert William Service
Ho! we were strong, we were swift, we were brave.
Youth was a challenge, and Life was a fight.
All that was best in us gladly we gave,
Sprang from the rally, and leapt for the height.
Agnostic Apology
© Robert William Service
I am a stout materialist;
With abstract terms I can't agree,
And so I've made a little list
Of words that don't make sense to me.
Allouette
© Robert William Service
Singing larks I saw for sale -
(Ah! the pain of it)
Plucked and ready to impale
On a roasting spit;
Ant Hill
© Robert William Service
Black ants have made a musty mound
My purple pine tree under,
And I am often to be found,
Regarding it with wonder.
A Cabbage Patch
© Robert William Service
Folk ask if I'm alive,
Most think I'm not;
Yet gaily I contrive
To till my plot.
A Busy Man
© Robert William Service
This crowded life of God's good giving
No man has relished more than I;
I've been so goldarned busy living
I've never had the time to die.
