Poems begining by S
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Shiela
© Robert William Service
When I played my penny whistle on the braes above Lochgyle
The heather bloomed about us, and we heard the peewit call;
As you bent above your knitting something fey was in your smile,
And fine and soft and slow the rain made silver on your shawl.
Your cheeks were pink like painted cheeks, your eyes a pansy blue . . .
My heart was in my playing, but my music was for you.
Stowaway
© Robert William Service
We'd left the sea-gulls long behind,
And we were almost in mid-ocean;
The sky was soft and blue and kind,
The boat had scarcely any motion;
Stamp Collector
© Robert William Service
My worldly wealth I hoard in albums three,
My life collection of rare postage stamps;
My room is cold and bare as you can see,
My coat is old and shabby as a tramp's;
Yet more to me than balances in banks,
My albums three are worth a million francs.
Song Of The Sardine
© Robert William Service
Chorus:
Oh that sardine in your hair, I can see it shining there,
As I took it from its box, And I twined it in your locks.
Silver sardine in your hair. Like a jewel rich and rare,
Oh that little silver sardine in your hair.
Susie
© Robert William Service
My daughter Susie, aged two,
Apes me in every way,
For as my household chores I do
With brooms she loves to play.
Strip Teaser
© Robert William Service
My precious grand-child, aged two,
Is eager to unlace one shoe,
And then the other;
Her cotton socks she'll deftly doff
Despite the mild reproaches of
Her mother.
Spats
© Robert William Service
When young I was a Socialist
Despite my tender years;
No blessed chance I ever missed
To slam the profiteers.
Sinister Sooth
© Robert William Service
For faces I had thought were gay
I saw were lined with care,
While strange corruption and decay
Surprised me everywhere:
Dismayed I put my specs away,--
Such truth I could not bear.
Sensitive Burglar
© Robert William Service
Selecting in the dining-room
The silver of his choice,
The burglar heard from chamber gloom
A female voice.
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;
Sailor Son
© Robert William Service
When you come home I'll not be round
To welcome you.
They'll take you to a grassy mound
So neat and new;
Where I'll be sleeping--O so sound!
The ages through.
Self-Made Man
© Robert William Service
A hundred people I employed,
But when they struck for higher pay,
I was so damnably annoyed
I told them they could stay away.
Suppose?
© Robert William Service
It's mighty nice at shut of day
With weariness to hit the hey,
To close your eyes, tired through and through,
And just forget that "you are you."
Sea Sorcery
© Robert William Service
Oh how I love the laughing sea,
Sun lances splintering;
Or with a virile harmony
In salty caves to sing;
Seven
© Robert William Service
If on water and sweet bread
Seven years I'll add to life,
For me will no blood be shed,
No lamb know the evil knife;
Excellently will I dine
On a crust and Adam's wine.
Striving
© Robert William Service
Striving is life, yet life is striving;
I fight to live, yet live to fight;
The vital urge is in my driving,
Yet I must drive with all my might:
Each day a battle, and the fray
Stoutly renewed the coming day.
Successful Failure
© Robert William Service
I wonder if successful men
Are always happy?
And do they sing with gusto when
Springtime is sappy?
Simplicity
© Robert William Service
"The world is too much with us," wrote
Wise Wordsworth, whom I love to quote,
When rhymes are coy;
And simple is the world I see,
With bud and bloom and brook and tree
To give me joy.
Surtax
© Robert William Service
We pitied him because
He lived alone;
His tiny cottage was
His only own.
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.
