Eyrie (Robert William Service Poems)
The little pink house is high on the hill And my heart is not what it used to be; It ...
The little pink house is high on the hill And my heart is not what it used to be; It ...
Past ash cans and alley cats, Fetid. overflowing gutters, Leprous lines of rancid flats Where the frowsy linen flutters; With ...
I used to think a pot of ink Held magic in its fluid, And I would ply a pen when ...
They asked the Bard of Ayr to dine; The banquet hall was fit and fine, With gracing it a Lord; ...
Poets may praise a wattle thatch Doubtfully waterproof; Let me uplift my lowly latch Beneath a rose-tiled roof. Let it ...
Moko, the Educated Ape is here, The pet of vaudeville, so the posters say, And every night the gaping people ...
When a girl's sixteen, and as poor as she's pretty, And she hasn't a friend and she hasn't a home, ...
I'm one of these haphazard chaps Who sit in cafes drinking; A most improper taste, perhaps, Yet pleasant, to my ...
He gives me such a bold and curious look, That young American across the way, As if he'd like to ...
(France, August first, 1914) Far and near, high and clear, Hark to the call of War! Over the gorse and ...
Three gentlemen live close beside me -- A painter of pictures bizarre, A poet whose virtues might guide me, A ...
My Louis loved me oh so well And spiered me for his wife; He would have haled me from the ...
Oh how it would enable me To titillate my vanity If you should choose to label me A Poet of ...
You've heard of "Casey at The Bat," And "Casey's Tabble Dote"; But now it's time To write a rhyme Of ...
In all the pubs from Troon to Ayr Grandfather's father would repair With Bobby Burns, a drouthy pair, The glass ...
And is it not a gesture grand To drink oneself to death? Oh sure 'tis I can understand, Being of ...
The porter in the Pullman car Was charming, as they sometimes are. He scanned my baggage tags: "Are you The ...
"Hullo, young Jones! with your tie so gay And your pen behind your ear; Will you mark my cheque in ...
Oh, it's pleasant sitting here, Seeing all the people pass; You beside your bock of beer, I behind my demi-tasse. ...
A-sitttin' on a cracker box an' spittin' in the stove, I took a sudden notion that I'd kindo' like to ...
Zut! it's two o'clock. See! the lights are jumping. Finish up your bock, Time we all were humping. Waiters stack ...
She'd bring to me a skein of wool And beg me to hold out my hands; so on my pipe ...
My Muse is simple,--yet it's nice To think you don't need to think twice On words I write. I reckon ...
He's yonder, on the terrace of the Cafe de la Paix, The little wizened Spanish man, I see him every ...
How often have I started out With no thought in my noodle, And wandered here and there about, Where fancy ...
Of bosom friends I've had but seven, Despite my years are ripe; I hope they're now enjoying Heaven, Although they're ...
My poem may be yours indeed In melody and tone, If in its rhythm you can read A music of ...
'Tis true my garments threadbare are, And sorry poor I seem; But inly I am richer far Than any poet's ...
While I make rhymes my brother John Makes shiny shoes which dames try on, And finding to their fit and ...
I've often wondered why Old chaps who choose to die In evil passes, Before themselves they slay, Invariably they Take ...
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