Good poems
/ page 487 of 545 /
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.
To Sunnydale
© Robert William Service
There lies the trail to Sunnydale,
Amid the lure of laughter.
Oh, how can we unhappy be
Beneath its leafy rafter!
Wallflower
© Robert William Service
Till midnight her needle she plied
To finish her pretty pink dress;
"Oh, bless you, my darling," she sighed;
"I hope you will be a success."
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.
Ignorance
© Robert William Service
Oh happy he who cannot see
With scientific eyes;
Who does not know how flowers grow,
And is not planet wise;
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.
Miss Mischievous
© Robert William Service
Miss Don't-do-this and Don't-do-that
Has such a sunny smile
You cannot help but chuckle at
Her cuteness and her guile.
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 Undying
© Robert William Service
She was so wonderful I wondered
If wedding me she had not blundered;
She was so pure, so high above me,
I marvelled how she came to love me:
Or did she? Well, in her own fashion -
Affection, pity, never passion.
A Song For Kilts
© Robert William Service
How grand the human race would be
If every man would wear a kilt,
A flirt of Tartan finery,
Instead of trousers, custom built!
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.
Six Feet Of Sod
© Robert William Service
This is the end of all my ways,
My wanderings on earth,
My gloomy and my golden days,
My madness and my mirth.
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."
Baby Sitter
© Robert William Service
My way I've won from woe to weal,
And hard has been the fight;
Yet in my ingle-nook I feel
A wondrous peace to-night;
And over me serenely steal
Warm waves of love and light.
Divine Device
© Robert William Service
Would it be loss or gain
To hapless human-kind
If we could feel no pain
Of body or of mind?
The Trapper's Christmas Eve
© Robert William Service
It's mighty lonesome-like and drear.
Above the Wild the moon rides high,
And shows up sharp and needle-clear
The emptiness of earth and sky;
Birds Of A Feather
© Robert William Service
'Tis strange I took to lads like these,
On whom the good should frown;
Yet all with poetry would please
To wash his wassail down;
Their temples touched the starry way,
But O what feet of clay!
Relax
© Robert William Service
Do you recall that happy bike
With bundles on our backs?
How near to heaven it was like
To blissfully relax!
The Ghosts
© Robert William Service
Smith had a friend, we'll call him Brown; dearer than brothers were those two.
When in the wassail Smith would drown, Brown would rescue and pull him through.
When Brown was needful Smith would lend; so it fell as the years went by,
Each on the other would depend: then at the last Smith came to die.
