Work poems
/ page 314 of 355 /
Laziness
© Robert William Service
Let laureates sing with rapturous swing
Of the wonder and glory of work;
Let pulpiteers preach and with passion impeach
The indolent wretches who shirk.
Brother Jim
© Robert William Service
My brother Jim's a millionaire,
while I have scarce a penny;
His face is creased with lines of care,
While my mug hasn't any.
Work And Joy
© Robert William Service
Each day I live I thank the Lord
I do the work I love;
And in it find a rich reward,
All price and praise above.
Robert William Service - Laughter
© Robert William Service
I Laugh at Life: its antics make for me a giddy games,
Where only foolish fellows take themselves with solemn aim.
I laugh at pomp and vanity, at riches, rank and pride;
At social inanity, at swager, swank and side.
Carry On
© Robert William Service
It's easy to fight when everything's right,
And you're mad with the thrill and the glory;
It's easy to cheer when victory's near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.
The Mother
© Robert William Service
Your children grow from you apart,
Afar and still afar;
And yet it should rejoice your heart
To see how glad they are;
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.
Untimely Leave
© Rabindranath Tagore
No more noisy, loud words from me---such is my master's will.
Henceforth I deal in whispers.
The speech of my heart will be carried on in murmurings of a song.
The Land of the Exile
© Rabindranath Tagore
Mother, the light has grown grey in the sky; I do not know what
the time is.
There is no fun in my play, so I have come to you. It is
Saturday, our holiday.
The Gardener XXI: Why Did He Choose
© Rabindranath Tagore
Why did he choose to come to my
door, the wandering youth, when the
day dawned?
As I come in and out I pass by him
The Gardener XLII: O Mad, Superbly Drunk
© Rabindranath Tagore
O mad, superbly drunk;
If you kick open your doors and
play the fool in public;
If you empty your bag in a night,
The Gardener XIV: I Was Walking by the Road
© Rabindranath Tagore
I was walking by the road, I do not
know why, when the noonday was past
and bamboo branches rustled in the
wind.
The Gardener X: Let Your Work Be, Bride
© Rabindranath Tagore
Let your work be, bride. Listen, the
guest has come.
Do you hear, he is gently shaking
the chain which fastens the door?
The Gardener LXXXIV: Over the Green
© Rabindranath Tagore
Over the green and yellow rice-fields
sweep the shadows of the autumn
clouds followed by the swift-chasing
sun.
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
The Gardener LXVIII: None Lives For Ever, Brother
© Rabindranath Tagore
None lives for ever, brother, and
nothing lasts for long. Keep that in
mind and rejoice.
Our life is not the one old burden,
The Gardener LV: It Was Mid-Day
© Rabindranath Tagore
It was mid-day when you went
away .
The sun was strong in the sky.
I had done my work and sat alone
The Gardener IV: Ah Me
© Rabindranath Tagore
Ah me, why did they build my
house by the road to the market
town?
They moor their laden boats near
The Further Bank
© Rabindranath Tagore
I long to go over there to the further bank of the river.
Where those boats are tied to the bamboo poles in a line;
Where men cross over in their boats in the morning with
ploughs on their shoulders to till their far-away fields;
The Chanpa Flower
© Rabindranath Tagore
Supposing I became a chanpa flower, just for fun, and grew on a
branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and
danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me, mother?
You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should laugh to
