Children poems
/ page 216 of 244 /
My Holiday
© Robert William Service
I love the cheery bustle
Of children round the house,
The tidy maids a-hustle,
The chatter of my spouse;
Learn To Like
© Robert William Service
School yourself to savour most
Joys that have but little cost;
Prove the best of life is free,
Sun and stars and sky and sea;
Lindy Lou
© Robert William Service
If the good King only knew,
Lindy Lou,
What a cherub child are you,
It is true,
The Philanderer
© Robert William Service
Oh, have you forgotten those afternoons
With riot of roses and amber skies,
When we thrilled to the joy of a million Junes,
And I sought for your soul in the deeps of your eyes?
The Faceless Man
© Robert William Service
I'm dead.
Officially I'm dead. Their hope is past.
How long I stood as missing! Now, at last
I'm dead.
Maids In May
© Robert William Service
Three maids there were in meadow bright,
The eldest less then seven;
Their eyes were dancing with delight,
And innocent as Heaven.
Mammy
© Robert William Service
And so with silvered pow
I sigh because
They don't make women now
Like Mammy was.
The Law Of The Yukon
© Robert William Service
This is the Law of the Yukon, that only the Strong shall thrive;
That surely the Weak shall perish, and only the Fit survive.
Dissolute, damned and despairful, crippled and palsied and slain,
This is the Will of the Yukon, -- Lo, how she makes it plain!
The Ballad Of The Leather Medal
© Robert William Service
Only a Leather Medal, hanging there on the wall,
Dingy and frayed and faded, dusty and worn and old;
Yet of my humble treasures I value it most of all,
And I wouldn't part with that medal if you gave me its weight in gold.
The Blood-Red Fourragere
© Robert William Service
What was the blackest sight to me
Of all that campaign?
A naked woman tied to a tree
With jagged holes where her breasts should be,
Rotting there in the rain.
Worms
© Robert William Service
Worms finer for fishing you couldn't be wishing;
I delved them dismayed from the velvety sod;
The rich loam upturning I gathered them squirming,
big, fat, gleamy earthworms, all ripe for my rod.
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!
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.
My Indian Summer
© Robert William Service
Here in the Autumn of my days
My life is mellowed in a haze.
Unpleasant sights are none to clear,
Discordant sounds I hardly hear.
Tim
© Robert William Service
My brother Tim has children ten,
While I have none.
Maybe that's why he's toiling when
To ease I've won.
The Woman At The Gate
© Robert William Service
The woman said: "It ran so far
He followed it with joy.
Then came a real motor-car,--
He sought to save his toy . . .
My little boy is far away
Where angel children play.
The Wife
© Robert William Service
"Tell Annie I'll be home in time
To help her with her Christmas-tree."
That's what he wrote, and hark! the chime
Of Christmas bells, and where is he?
And how the house is dark and sad,
And Annie's sobbing on my knee!
Kittens
© Robert William Service
A ray of sun strayed softly round,
For something to caress,
Until a resting place it found
Of joy and thankfulness;
My Will
© Robert William Service
I've made my Will. I don't believe
In luxury and wealth;
And to those loving ones who grieve
My age and frailing health
The Pretty Lady
© Robert William Service
He asked the lady in the train
If he might smoke: she smiled consent.
So lighting his cigar and fain
To talk he puffed away content,
Reflecting: how delightful are
Fair dame and fine cigar.
