Fear poems
/ page 405 of 454 /
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."
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.
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 Fool
© Robert William Service
"But it isn't playing the game," he said,
And he slammed his books away;
"The Latin and Greek I've got in my head
Will do for a duller day."
Security
© Robert William Service
Young man, gather gold and gear,
they will wear you well;
You can thumb your nose at fear,
Wish the horde in hell.
My Room
© Robert William Service
I think the things I own and love
Acquire a sense of me,
That gives them value far above
The worth that others see.
Rose Leaves
© Robert William Service
When they shall close my careless eyes
And look their last upon my face,
I fear that some will say: "her lies
A man of deep disgrace;
His thoughts were bare, his words were brittle,
He dreamed so much, he did so little.
The Passing Of The Year
© Robert William Service
My glass is filled, my pipe is lit,
My den is all a cosy glow;
And snug before the fire I sit,
And wait to feel the old year go.
Bookshelf
© Robert William Service
I like to think that when I fall,
A rain-drop in Death's shoreless sea,
This shelf of books along the wall,
Beside my bed, will mourn for me.
Schizophrenic
© Robert William Service
Each morning as I catch my bus,
A-fearing I'll be late,
I think: there are in all of us
Two folks quite separate;
The Locket
© Robert William Service
From out her shabby rain-coat pocket
The little Jew girl in the train
Produced a dinted silver locket
With pasted in it portraits twain.
"These are my parents, sir" she said;
"Or were, for now I fear they're dead.
Fear
© Robert William Service
I know how father's strap would feel,
If ever I were caught,
So mother's jam I did not steal,
Though theft was in my thought.
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."
Tourist
© Robert William Service
To Italy a random tour
I took to crown my education,
Returning relatively poor
In purse yet rich in conversation.
Room 7: The Coco-Fiend
© Robert William Service
Heart broken to the room I crept,
To mother's side. All still . . . she slept . . .
I bent, I sought to raise her head . . .
"Oh, God, have pity!" she was dead.
Sunshine
© Robert William Service
Flat as a drum-head stretch the haggard snows;
The mighty skies are palisades of light;
The stars are blurred; the silence grows and grows;
Vaster and vaster vaults the icy night.
Here in my sleeping-bag I cower and pray:
"Silence and night, have pity! stoop and slay."
The Record
© Robert William Service
Fearing that she might go one day
With some fine fellow of her choice,
I called her from her childish play,
And made a record of her voice.
My Inner Life
© Robert William Service
'Tis true my garments threadbare are,
And sorry poor I seem;
But inly I am richer far
Than any poet's dream.
