Beauty poems
/ page 283 of 313 /The Flower Shop
© Robert William Service
Because I have no garden and
No pence to buy,
Before the flower shop I stand
And sigh.
The Spirit Of The Unborn Babe
© Robert William Service
The Spirit of the Unborn Babe peered through the window-pane,
Peered through the window-pane that glowed like beacon in the night;
For, oh, the sky was desolate and wild with wind and rain;
And how the little room was crammed with coziness and light!
The Wonderer
© Robert William Service
I wish that I could understand
The moving marvel of my Hand;
I watch my fingers turn and twist,
The supple bending of my wrist,
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.
Young Fellow My Lad
© Robert William Service
"Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad,
On this glittering morn of May?"
"I'm going to join the Colours, Dad;
They're looking for men, they say."
God's Vagabond
© Robert William Service
A passion to be free
Has ever mastered me;
To none beneath the sun
Will I bow down,--not one
Shall leash my liberty.
Three Wives
© Robert William Service
Said Jones: "I'm glad my wife's not clever;
Her intellect is second-rate.
If she was witty she would never
Give me a chance to scintillate;
But cap my humorous endeavour
And make me seem as addle-pate."
The Receptionist
© Robert William Service
France is the fairest land on earth,
Lovely to heart's desire,
And twice a year I span its girth,
Its beauty to admire.
Dark Glasses
© Robert William Service
Sweet maiden, why disguise
The beauty of your eyes
With glasses black?
Although I'm well aware
Insomnia
© Robert William Service
Heigh ho! to sleep I vainly try;
Since twelve I haven't closed an eye,
And now it's three, and as I lie,
From Notre Dame to St. Denis
The bells of Paris chime to me;
"You're young," they say, "and strong and free."
The Contented Man
© Robert William Service
"How good God is to me," he said;
"For have I not a mansion tall,
With trees and lawns of velvet tread,
And happy helpers at my call?
Moon Song
© Robert William Service
A child saw in the morning skies
The dissipated-looking moon,
And opened wide her big blue eyes,
And cried: "Look, look, my lost balloon!"
And clapped her rosy hands with glee:
"Quick, mother! Bring it back to me."
The Joy Of Little Things
© Robert William Service
It's good the great green earth to roam,
Where sights of awe the soul inspire;
But oh, it's best, the coming home,
The crackle of one's own hearth-fire!
Cinderella
© Robert William Service
Cinderella in the street
In a ragged gown,
Sloven slippers on her feet,
Shames our tidy town;
Lord Let Me Live
© Robert William Service
Lord, let me linger, just for this,--
To win to utterness of bliss;
To see in every dawn design
Proof of Your Providence divine;
With night to find ablaze above,
Assurance of Your love.
Secretary
© Robert William Service
My Master is a man of might
With manners like a hog;
He makes me slave from morn to night
And treats me like a dog.
My Garden
© Robert William Service
The world is sadly sick, they say,
And plagued by woe and pain.
But look! How looms my garden gay,
With blooms in golden reign!
My Cross
© Robert William Service
I wrote a poem to the moon
But no one noticed it;
Although I hoped that late or soon
Someone would praise a bit
The Choice
© Robert William Service
Some inherit manly beauty,
Some come into worldly wealth;
Some have lofty sense of duty,
Others boast exultant health.
Mud
© Robert William Service
Mud is Beauty in the making,
Mud is melody awaking;
Laughter, leafy whisperings,
Butterflies with rainbow wings;