Robert William Service Poems on War & Peace (152 Poems)

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 will kick up a fuss I know, but still I must toil up that twisty trail to see What that … Continue reading →

My Bay’nit (Robert William Service Poems)

When first I left Blighty they gave me a bay’nit And told me it ‘ad to be smothered wiv gore; But blimey! I ‘aven’t been able to stain it, So far as I’ve gone wiv the vintage of war. For … Continue reading →

Munition Maker (Robert William Service Poems)

I am the Cannon King, behold! I perish on a throne of gold. With forest far and turret high, Renowned and rajah-rich am I. My father was, and his before, With wealth we owe to war on war; But let … Continue reading →

No Lilies For Lisette (Robert William Service Poems)

Said the Door: “She came in With no shadow of sin; Turned the key in the lock, Slipped out of her frock, The robe she liked best When for supper she dressed. Then a letter she tore . . . … Continue reading →

Pilgrims (Robert William Service Poems)

For oh, when the war will be over We’ll go and we’ll look for our dead; We’ll go when the bee’s on the clover, And the plume of the poppy is red: We’ll go when the year’s at its gayest, … Continue reading →

The Soldier Of Fortune (Robert William Service Poems)

“Deny your God!” they ringed me with their spears; Blood-crazed were they, and reeking from the strife; Hell-hot their hate, and venom-fanged their sneers, And one man spat on me and nursed a knife. And there was I, sore wounded … Continue reading →

The Song Of The Pacifist (Robert William Service Poems)

What do they matter, our headlong hates, when we take the toll of our Dead? Think ye our glory and gain will pay for the torrent of blood we have shed? By the cheers of our Victory will the heart … Continue reading →

Spanish Peasant (Robert William Service Poems)

We have no aspiration vain For paradise Utopian, And here in our sun-happy Spain, Though man exploit his fellow man, To high constraint we humbly yield, And turn from politics to toil, Content to till a kindly field And bring … Continue reading →

Milking Time (Robert William Service Poems)

There’s a drip of honeysuckle in the deep green lane; There’s old Martin jogging homeward on his worn old wain; There are cherry petals falling, and a cuckoo calling, calling, And a score of larks (God bless ‘em) . . … Continue reading →

The Mourners (Robert William Service Poems)

I look into the aching womb of night; I look across the mist that masks the dead; The moon is tired and gives but little light, The stars have gone to bed. The earth is sick and seems to breathe … Continue reading →