Sad poems
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Old Tom
© Robert William Service
The harridan who holds the inn
At which I toss a pot,
Is old and uglier than sin,--
I'm glad she knows me not.
Leaves
© Robert William Service
The leaves are falling three and three
Beneath the mothlike moon;
They flutter downward silverly
In muted rigadoon;
And russet dry remote they lie
From feathered tune.
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.
The Comforter
© Robert William Service
As I sat by my baby's bed
That's open to the sky,
There fluttered round and round my head
A radiant butterfly.
It Is Later Than You Think
© Robert William Service
Lone amid the cafe's cheer,
Sad of heart am I to-night;
Dolefully I drink my beer,
But no single line I write.
Portent
© Robert William Service
Courage mes gars:
La guerre est proche.I plant my little plot of beans,
I sit beneath my cyprus tree;
I do not know what trouble means,
The Sewing-Girl
© Robert William Service
The humble garret where I dwell
Is in that Quarter called the Latin;
It isn't spacious -- truth to tell,
There's hardly room to swing a cat in.
Dreams Are Best
© Robert William Service
I just think that dreams are best,
Just to sit and fancy things;
Give your gold no acid test,
Try not how your silver rings;
Fallen Leaves
© Robert William Service
Why should I be the first to fall
Of all the leaves on this old tree?
Though sadly soon I know that all
Will lose their hold and follow me.
While my birth-brothers bravely blow,
Why should I be first to go?
My Garden
© Robert William Service
The world is sadly sick, they say,
And plagued by woe and pain.
But look! How looms my garden gay,
With blooms in golden reign!
The Bread-Knife Ballad
© Robert William Service
A little child was sitting Up on her mother's knee
And down down her cheeks the bitter tears did flow.
And as I sadly listened I heard this tender plea,
'Twas uttered in a voice so soft and low.
Landscape of a Vomiting Multitude
© Federico Garcia Lorca
The fat lady went first
and the crowds kept looking for pharmacies
where the bitter tropics could be found.
Only when a flag went up and the first dogs arrived
did the entire city rush to the railings of the boardwalk.
Weeping
© Federico Garcia Lorca
Weeping,
I go down the street
Grotesque, without solution
With the sadness of Cyrano
And Quixote.
Lament For Ignacio Sanchez Mejias
© Federico Garcia Lorca
Tell the moon to come,
for I do not want to see the blood
of Ignacio on the sand.
Romance Son?mbulo
© Federico Garcia Lorca
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
The Gardener XX: Day After Day He Comes
© Rabindranath Tagore
Day after day he comes and goes
away.
Go, and give him a flower from my
hair, my friend.
The Gardener XLIV: Reverend Sir, Forgive
© Rabindranath Tagore
Reverend sir, forgive this pair of
sinners. Spring winds to-day are
blowing in wild eddies, driving dust
and dead leaves away, and with them
The Gardener LXXXIII: She Dwelt on the Hillside
© Rabindranath Tagore
She dwelt on the hillside by edge
of a maize-field, near the spring that
flows in laughing rills through the
solemn shadows of ancient trees. The
Lover's Gifts XLIII: Dying, You Have Left Behind
© Rabindranath Tagore
Dying, you have left behind you the great sadness of the Eternal
in my life. You have painted my thought's horizon with the sunset
colours of your departure, leaving a track of tears across the
earth to love's heaven. Clasped in your dear arms, life and death
Lotus
© Rabindranath Tagore
On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying,
and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded. Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my
dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind. That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to
me that is was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion. I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this
