Just Think!
Just think! some night the stars will gleam
Upon a cold, grey stone,
And trace a name with silver beam,
And lo! 'twill be your own.
That night is speeding on to greet
Your epitaphic rhyme.
Your life is but a little beat
Within the heart of Time.
A little gain, a little pain,
A laugh, lest you may moan;
A little blame, a little fame,
A star-gleam on a stone.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Yukoner
He burned a hole in frozen muck,
He pierced the icy mould,
And there in six-foot dirt he struck
A sack or so of gold.
He burned holes in the Decalogue,
And then it cam about,
For Fortune's just a lousy rogue,
His "pocket" petered out.
And lo! 'twas but a year all told,
When there in a shadow grim,
In six feet deep of icy mould
They burned a hole for him.
poem by Robert William Service
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Willie
'Why did the lady in the lift
Slap that poor parson's face?'
Said Mother, thinking as she sniffed,
Of clerical disgrace.
Said Sonny Boy: 'Alas, I know.
My conscience doth accuse me;
The lady stood upon my toe,
Yet did not say--"Excuse me!"
'She hurt--and in that crowd confined
I scarcely could endure it;
So when I pinched her fat behind
She thought--it was the Curate.'
poem by Robert William Service
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Boxer's Wife
She phoned them when the Round was Eight:
'How is my Joe?' they heard her say.
They answered: 'Gee! He's going great,
Your guy's Okay.'
She phoned them when the Round was Nine:
'How is my hero in the fray?'
They yelled: 'He leads; he's doing fine,--
Joe's sure Okay.'
She phoned them when the Round was Ten:
'Is it still Okay with my Joe?'
Reluctant came the answer then,--
No Ma'am, KAYO.
poem by Robert William Service
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Epitaph
No matter how he toil and strive
The fate of every man alive
With luck will be to lie alone,
His empty name cut in a stone.
Grim time the fairest fame will flout,
But though his name be blotted out,
And he forgotten with his peers,
His stone may wear a year of years.
No matter how we sow and reap
The end of all is endless sleep;
From strife a merciful release,
From life the crowning prize of Peace.
poem by Robert William Service
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Ripeness
With peace and rest
And wisdom sage,
Ripeness is best
Of every age.
With hands that fold
In pensive prayer,
For grave-yard mold
Prepare.
From fighting free
With fear forgot,
Let ripeness be,
Before the rot.
With heart of cheer
At eighty odd,
How man grows near
To God!
With passion spent
And life nigh run
[...] Read more
poem by Robert William Service
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Include Me Out
I grabbed the new Who's Who to see
My name - but it was not.
Said I: "The form they posted me
I filled and sent - so what?"
I searched the essies," dour with doubt . . .
Darn! It was plain as day
The scurvy knaves had left me out . . .
Oh was I mad? I'll say.
Then all at once I sensed the clue;
'Twas simple, you'll allow . . .
The book I held was Who WAS Who -
Oh was I glad - and how!
poem by Robert William Service
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Breath Is Enough
I draw sweet air
Deeply and long,
As pure as prayer,
As sweet as song.
Where lilies glow
And roses wreath,
Heart-joy I know
Is just to breathe.
Aye, so I think
By shore or sea,
As deep I drink
Of purity.
This brave machine,
Bare to the buff,
I keep ice-clean,
Breath is enough.
From mountain stream
To covert cool
[...] Read more
poem by Robert William Service
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The Comforter
As I sat by my baby's bed
That's open to the sky,
There fluttered round and round my head
A radiant butterfly.
And as I wept -- of hearts that ache
The saddest in the land --
It left a lily for my sake,
And lighted on my hand.
I watched it, oh, so quietly,
And though it rose and flew,
As if it fain would comfort me
It came and came anew.
Now, where my darling lies at rest,
I do not dare to sigh,
For look! there gleams upon my breast
A snow-white butterfly.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Defeated
Think not because you raise
A gleaming sword,
That you will win to praise
Before the Lord.
And though men hail you great
Unto the skies,
Deem not 'twill ope' the gate
Of Paradise.
Though you have gold and gear
And fame and power,
What odds when you draw near
The Judgement Hour?
But if in bloody dust
Yet unafraid
You battle for the Just
With broken blade--
[...] Read more
poem by Robert William Service
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