Fallen Leaves

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?

Why should I be the last to cling
Of all the leaves on this bleak bough?
I've fluttered since the fire of Spring
And I am worn and withered now.
I would escape the Winter gale
And sleep soft-silvered by a snail.

When swoop the legions of the snow
To pitch their tents in roaring weather
We fallen leaves will lie below
And rot rejoicingly together;
And from our rich and dark decay
Will laugh our brothers of the May.

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Rose Leaves

When they shall close my careless eyes
And look their last upon my face,
I fear that some will say: "her lies
A man of deep disgrace;
His thoughts were bare, his words were brittle,
He dreamed so much, he did so little.

When they shall seal y coffin lid
And this worn mask I know as ME,
Shall from the sight of man be hid
To all eternity -
Some one may say: "His sins were many,
His virtues - really, had he any?"

When I shall lie beneath my tomb,
Oh do not grave it with my name
But let one rose-bush o'er me bloom,
And heedless of my shame,
With velvet shade and loving laugh,
In petals write my epitaph.

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

I Will Not Fight

I will not fight: though proud of pith
I hold no one worth striving with;
And should resentment burn my breast
I deem that silence serves me best:
So having not a word to say,
Contemptuous I turn away.

I will not fret: my rest of life
Free I will keep from hate and strife;
Let lust and sin and anger sleep,
I will not delve the subsoil deep,
But be content with inch of earth,
Where daisies have their birth.

I will not grieve: Till day be done
I will be tranquil in the sun,
With garden glow and quiet nook,
And song of bird and spell of book . . .
God bless you all! I will not fight,
But love and dream until--Goodnight!

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Warsaw

I was in Warsaw when the first bomb fell;
I was in Warsaw when the Terror came -
Havoc and horror, famine, fear and flame,
Blasting from loveliness a living hell.
Barring the station towered a sentinel;
Trainward I battled, blind escape my aim.
ENGLAND! I cried. He kindled at the name:
With lion-leap he haled me. . . . All was well.

ENGLAND! they cried for aid, and cried in vain.
Vain was their valour, emptily they cried.
Bleeding, they saw their Cry crucified. . . .
O splendid soldier, by the last lone train,
To-day would you flame forth to fray me place?
Or - would you curse and spit into my face?

September, 1939

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Ernie Pyle

I wish I had a simple style
In writing verse,
As in his prose had Ernie Pyle,
So true and terse;
Springing so forthright from the heart
With guileless art.

I wish I could put back a dram
As Ernie could;
I wish that I could cuss and damn
As soldier should;
And fain with every verse would I
Ernie outvie.

Alas! I cannot claim his high
Humanity;
Nor emulate his pungent, dry
Profanity;
Nor share his love of common folk
Who bear life's yolk.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Farmer's Daughter

The Rector met a little lass
Who led a heifer by a rope.
Said he: "Why don't you go to Mass?
Do you not want to please the Pope?"

The village maiden made reply,
As on the rope she ceased to pull:
"My father said this morning I
Must take Paquerette to see the bull."

The Rector frowned. ";Tis wrong, I wist
To leave your prayer-book on the shelf.
Your father has a stronger wrist;
Why can't he do the job himself?"

Then lovely in her innocence,
With gaze as pure as meadow pool,
The maid spoke in her sire's defense:
"But Daddy, please your Reverence,
Would rather leave it to the bull."

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Fool Faith

Said I: "See yon vast heaven shine,--
What earthly sight diviner?
Before such radiant Design
Why doubt Designer?"

Said he: "Design is just a thought
In human cerebration,
And meaningless if Man is not
Part of creation.

"But grant Design,--we may imply
The job took toil aplenty;
Then why one sole designer, why
Not ten or twenty.

"But should there be one Source supreme
Of matter and of motion,
Why mould it like our man-machine
For daft devotion?"

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Immortality

Full well I trow that when I die
Down drops the curtain;
Another show is all my eye
And Betty Martin.
I know the score, and with a smile
Of rueful rating,
I reckon I am not worth while
Perpetuating.

I hope that God,--if God there be
Of love and glory,
Will let me off Eternity,
And end my story.
Will count me just a worn-out bit
Of human matter,
Who's done his job or bungled it,
--More like the latter.

I did not beg for mortal breath,
Plus hell or Heaven;

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Repentance

"If you repent," the Parson said,"
Your sins will be forgiven.
Aye, even on your dying bed
You're not too late for heaven."

That's just my cup of tea, I thought,
Though for my sins I sorrow;
Since salvation is easy bought
I will repent . . . to-morrow.

To-morrow and to-morrow went,
But though my youth was flying,
I was reluctant to repent,
having no fear of dying.

'Tis plain, I mused, the more I sin,
(To Satan's jubilation)
When I repent the more I'll win
Celestial approbation.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Tim

My brother Tim has children ten,
While I have none.
Maybe that's why he's toiling when
To ease I've won.
But though I would some of his brood
Give hearth and care,
I know that not a one he would
Have heart to spare.

'Tis children that have kept him poor;
He's clad them neat.
They've never wanted, I am sure,
For bite to eat.
And though their future may be dim,
They laugh a lot.
Am I tearful for Brother Tim?
Oh no, I'm not.

I know he goes to work each day
With flagging feet.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!