War poems
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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 Smoking Frog
© Robert William Service
Three men I saw beside a bar,
Regarding o'er their bottle,
A frog who smoked a rank cigar
They'd jammed within its throttle.
Cheer
© Robert William Service
It's a mighty good world, so it is, dear lass,
When even the worst is said.
There's a smile and a tear, a sigh and a cheer,
But better be living than dead;
Equality
© Robert William Service
The Elders of the Tribe were grouped
And squatted in the Council Cave;
They seemed to be extremely pooped,
And some were grim, but all were grave:
The subject of their big To-do
Was axe-man Chow, the son of Choo.
Little Brother
© Robert William Service
Wars have been and wars will be
Till the human race is run;
Battles red by land and sea,
Never peace beneath the sun.
Birthday
© Robert William Service
(16th January 1949)I thank whatever gods may be
For all the happiness that's mine;
That I am festive, fit and free
To savour women, wit and wine;
The Cremation Of Sam McGee
© Robert William Service
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that he'd "sooner live in hell".
I Have Some Friends
© Robert William Service
I have some friends, some worthy friends,
And worthy friends are rare:
These carpet slippers on my feet,
That padded leather chair;
This old and shabby dressing-gown,
So well the worse of wear.
Prelude to an Evening
© John Crowe Ransom
Do not enforce the tired wolf
Dragging his infected wound homeward
To sit tonight with the warm children
Naming the pretty kings of France.
Necrological
© John Crowe Ransom
The friar had said his paternosters duly
And scourged his limbs, and afterwards would have slept;
But with much riddling his head became unruly,
He arose, from the quiet monastery he crept.
Conrad in Twilight
© John Crowe Ransom
Conrad, Conrad, aren't you old
To sit so late in your mouldy garden?
And I think Conrad knows it well,
Nursing his knees, too rheumy and cold
To warm the wraith of a Forest of Arden.
Bells For John Whiteside's Daughter
© John Crowe Ransom
There was such speed in her little body,
And such lightness in her footfall,
It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all
Train Ride
© Federico Garcia Lorca
After rain, through afterglow, the unfolding fan
of railway landscape sidled onthe pivot
of a larger arc into the green of evening;
I remembered that noon I saw a gradual bud
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.
The Gardener XXXVIII: My Love, Once upon a Time
© Rabindranath Tagore
My love, once upon a time your poet
launched a great epic in his mind.
Alas, I was not careful, and it struck
your ringing anklets and came to
The Gardener XXII: When She Passed by Me
© Rabindranath Tagore
When she passed by me with quick
steps, the end of her skirt touched
me.
From the unknown island of a
The Gardener XLVI: You Left Me
© Rabindranath Tagore
You left me and went on your way.
I thought I should mourn for you
and set your solitary image in my
heart wrought in a golden song.
Superior
© Rabindranath Tagore
Mother, your baby is silly! She is so absurdly childish!
She does not know the difference between the lights in the
streets and the stars.
When we play at eating with pebbles, she thinks they are real
Lover's Gifts XLVIII: I Travelled the Old Road
© Rabindranath Tagore
I travelled the old road every day, I took my fruits to the market,
my cattle to the meadows, I ferried my boat across the stream and
all the ways were well known to me.
One morning my basket was heavy with wares. Men were busy in
