Time poems

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My Rival

© Robert William Service

Oh did she ever dream of Jack?
The boy who nevermore came back,
And never will, I heard that he
Was drowned in the China Sea.

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The Other One

© Robert William Service

"Gather around me, children dear;
The wind is high and the night is cold;
Closer, little ones, snuggle near;
Let's seek a story of ages old;

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My Garret

© Robert William Service

Here is my Garret up five flights of stairs;
Here's where I deal in dreams and ply in fancies,
Here is the wonder-shop of all my wares,
My sounding sonnets and my red romances.
Here's where I challenge Fate and ring my rhymes,
And grope at glory -- aye, and starve at times.

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Comrades

© Robert William Service

Oh bear with me, for I am old
And count on fingers five
The years this pencil I may hold
And hope to be alive;

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The Mole

© Robert William Service

Said he: "I'll dive deep in the Past,
And write a book of direful days
When summer skies were overcast
With smoke of humble hearths ablaze;

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Amateur Poet

© Robert William Service

You see that sheaf of slender books
Upon the topmost shelf,
At which no browser ever looks,
Because they're by . . . myself;

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You And Me

© Robert William Service

I'm part of people I have known
And they are part of me;
The seeds of thought that I have sown
In other minds I see.
There's something of me in the throne
And in the gallows tree.

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The Death Of Marie Toro

© Robert William Service

And then last week I missed her, and they found her in the street
One morning early, huddled down, for it was freezing cold;
But when they raised her ragged shawl her face was still and sweet;
Some bits of broken bloom were clutched within her icy hold.
That's all. . . . Ah yes, they say that saw: her blue, wide-open eyes
Were beautiful with joy again, with radiant surprise. . . .

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My Hour

© Robert William Service

Day after day behold me plying
My pen within an office drear;
The dullest dog, till homeward hieing,
Then lo! I reign a king of cheer.

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A Song Of Sixty-Five

© Robert William Service

Brave Thackeray has trolled of days when he was twenty-one,
And bounded up five flights of stairs, a gallant garreteer;
And yet again in mellow vein when youth was gaily run,
Has dipped his nose in Gascon wine, and told of Forty Year.

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The Macaronis

© Robert William Service

Italian people peaceful are,--
Let it be to their credit.
They mostly fail to win a war,
--Oh they themselves have said it.

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Raising The Flag

© Robert William Service

These were the words I heard, I swear,
But when I turned around to stare,
Believe me - there was no one there.

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My Job

© Robert William Service

I've got a little job on 'and, the time is drawin' nigh;
At seven by the Captain's watch I'm due to go and do it;
I wants to 'ave it nice and neat, and pleasin' to the eye,
And I 'opes the God of soldier men will see me safely through it.

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Futility

© Robert William Service

Dusting my books I spent a busy day:
Not ancient toes, time-hallowed and unread,
but modern volumes, classics in their way,
whose makers now are numbered with the dead;
Men of a generation more than mine,
With whom I tattled, battled and drank wine.

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Don't Cheer

© Robert William Service

Don't cheer, damn you! Don't cheer!
Silence! Your bitterest tear
Is fulsomely sweet to-day. . . .
Down on your knees and pray.

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A Hero

© Robert William Service

Three times I had the lust to kill,
To clutch a throat so young and fair,
And squeeze with all my might until
No breath of being lingered there.

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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;

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The Mountain And The Lake

© Robert William Service

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!

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Noctambule

© Robert William Service

Pair of dapper chaps,
Cigarettes and sashes,
Stare at me, perhaps
Desperate Apachès.

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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