Poems begining by F
/ page 92 of 107 /
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© Robert William Service
Yet may it not be, crime and war
But effort misdirected are?
And if there's good in war and crime,
There may be in my bits of rhyme,
My songs from out the slaughter mill:
So take or leave them as you will.
Finnigan's Finish
© Robert William Service
They thought I'd be a champion;
They boasted loud of me.
A dozen victories I'd won,
The Press was proud of me.
Four-Foot Shelf
© Robert William Service
'Come, see,' said he, 'my four-foot shelf,
A forty volume row;
And every one I wrote myself,
But that, of course, you know.'
Forgotten Master
© Robert William Service
As you gaze beyond the bay
With such wanness in your eyes,
You who have out-stayed your day,
Seeing other stars arise,
Slender though your lifehold be,
Still you dream beside the sea.
Fighting Mac
© Robert William Service
A pistol shot rings round and round the world;
In pitiful defeat a warrior lies.
A last defiance to dark Death is hurled,
A last wild challenge shocks the sunlit skies.
Alone he falls, with wide, wan, woeful eyes:
Eyes that could smile at death -- could not face shame.
Finality
© Robert William Service
When I am dead I will not care
How future generations fare,
For I will be so unaware.
Finistere
© Robert William Service
Hurrah! I'm off to Finistere, to Finistere, to Finistere;
My satchel's swinging on my back, my staff is in my hand;
I've twenty louis in my purse, I know the sun and sea are there,
And so I'm starting out to-day to tramp the golden land.
Funk
© Robert William Service
When your marrer bone seems 'oller,
And you're glad you ain't no taller,
And you're all a-shakin' like you 'ad the chills;
When your skin creeps like a pullet's,
Familiarity
© Robert William Service
Familiarity some claim
Can breed contempt,
So from it let it be your aim
To be exempt.
Five-Per-Cent
© Robert William Service
Because I have ten thousand pounds I sit upon my stern,
And leave my living tranquilly for other folks to earn.
For in some procreative way that isn't very clear,
Ten thousand pounds will breed, they say, five hundred every year.
Flies
© Robert William Service
I never kill a fly because
I think that what we have of laws
To regulate and civilize
Our daily life - we owe to flies.
Fidelity
© Robert William Service
Being a shorty, as you see,
A bare five footer,
The why my wife is true to me
Is my six-shooter.
Fisherfolk
© Robert William Service
I like to look at fishermen
And oftentimes I wish
One would be lucky now and then
And catch a little fish.
Futility
© Robert William Service
Dusting my books I spent a busy day:
Not ancient toes, time-hallowed and unread,
but modern volumes, classics in their way,
whose makers now are numbered with the dead;
Men of a generation more than mine,
With whom I tattled, battled and drank wine.
Flight
© Robert William Service
On silver sand where ripples curled
I counted sea-gulls seven;
Shy, secret screened from all the world,
And innocent as heaven.
Failure
© Robert William Service
He wrote a play; by day and night
He strove with passion and delight;
Yet knew, long ere the curtain drop,
His drama was a sorry flop.
Fleurette
© Robert William Service
My leg? It's off at the knee.
Do I miss it? Well, some. You see
I've had it since I was born;
And lately a devilish corn.
(I rather chuckle with glee
To think how I've fooled that corn.)
Fore-Warning
© Robert William Service
I'd rather be the Jester than the Minstrel of the King;
I'd rather jangle cap and bells than twang the stately harp;
I'd rather make his royal ribs with belly-laughter ring,
Than see him sitting in the suds and sulky as a carp.
Fool Faith
© Robert William Service
"But grant Design,--we may imply
The job took toil aplenty;
Then why one sole designer, why
Not ten or twenty.
Fortitude
© Robert William Service
Time, the Jester, jeers at you;
Your life's a fleeting breath;
Your birthday's flimsy I.O.U.
To that old devil, Death.
