Love poems

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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;

My lake has dreamed and loved since time was born;
Will love and dream till time shall cease to be;
Gazing to Her in worship half forlorn,
Who looks towards the stars and will not see --
My peerless mountain, splendid in her scorn. . . .
Alas! poor little lake! Alas! poor me!

Mistinguette

© Robert William Service

He was my one and only love;
My world was mirror for his face.
We were as close as hand and glove,
Until he came with smiling grace

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;

Immortality

© Robert William Service

Full well I trow that when I die
Down drops the curtain;
Another show is all my eye
And Betty Martin.

Trees Against The Sky

© Robert William Service

Pines against the sky,
Pluming the purple hill;
Pines . . . and I wonder why,
Heart, you quicken and thrill?

The Lone Trail

© Robert William Service

Ye who know the Lone Trail fain would follow it,
Though it lead to glory or the darkness of the pit.
Ye who take the Lone Trail, bid your love good-by;
The Lone Trail, the Lone Trail follow till you die.

Pipe Smoker

© Robert William Service

Because I love the soothing weed
And am of sober type,
I'd choose me for a friend in need
A man who smokes a pipe.

An Epicure

© Robert William Service

Should you preserve white mice in honey
Don't use imported ones from China,
For though they cost you less in money
You'll find the Japanese ones finer.

The Release

© Robert William Service

To-day within a grog-shop near
I saw a newly captured linnet,
Who beat against his cage in fear,
And fell exhausted every minute;

L'Escargot D'Or

© Robert William Service

O Tavern of the Golden Snail!
Ten sous have I, so I'll regale;
Ten sous your amber brew to sip
(Eight for the bock and two the tip),

God's Battleground

© Robert William Service

God dwells in you; in pride and shame,
In all you do to blight or bless;
In all you are of praise and blame,
In beauty or in ugliness.
"Divine Creation" - What a fraud!
God did not make you . . . You make God.

Slugging Saint

© Robert William Service

'Twas in a pub in Battersea
They call the "Rose and Crown,"
Quite suddenly, it seemed to me,
The Lord was looking down;

His Boys

© Robert William Service

"I'm going, Billy, old fellow. Hist, lad! Don't make any noise.
There's Boches to beat all creation, the pitch of a bomb away.
I've fixed the note to your collar, you've got to get back to my Boys,
You've got to get back to warn 'em before it's the break of day."

Rhyme For My Tomb

Here lyeth one
Who loved the sun;
Who lived with zest,
Whose work was done,

The Philistine And The Bohemian

And what is the moral of all this rot?
Don't try to be what you know you're not.
And if you're made on a muttonish plan,
Don't seek to seem a Bohemian;
And if to the goats your feet incline,
Don't try to pass for a Philistine.

Bill The Bomber

The poppies gleamed like bloody pools through cotton-woolly mist;
The Captain kept a-lookin' at the watch upon his wrist;
And there we smoked and squatted, as we watched the shrapnel flame;
'Twas wonnerful, I'm tellin' you, how fast them bullets came.

My Hundred Books

A thousand books my library
Contains;
And all are primed, it seems to me
With brains.

Fleurette

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.)

Bill's Grave

I'm gatherin' flowers by the wayside to lay on the grave of Bill;
I've sneaked away from the billet, 'cause Jim wouldn't understand;
'E'd call me a silly fat'ead, and larf till it made 'im ill,
To see me 'ere in the cornfield, wiv a big bookay in me 'and.