Robert William Service

(16 January 1874 - 11 September 1958 / Preston)

Robert William Service Poems

361. Second Childhood 11/28/2014
362. The Song Of The Soldier-Born 1/13/2003
363. The Ballad Of The Brand 1/13/2003
364. The Pretty Lady 1/13/2003
365. The Duel 1/13/2003
366. The Philistine And The Bohemian 1/13/2003
367. Resolutions 1/13/2003
368. The Man From Athabaska 1/13/2003
369. Moon Song 1/13/2003
370. The Other One 1/13/2003
371. The Ape And I 1/13/2003
372. The Lunger 1/13/2003
373. The Anniversary 1/13/2003
374. Pullman Porter 1/13/2003
375. Oh, It Is Good 1/13/2003
376. Post Office Romance 1/13/2003
377. To The Man Of The High North 1/13/2003
378. Repentance 1/13/2003
379. The Ballad Of Soulful Sam 1/13/2003
380. Pragmatic 1/13/2003
381. Madam La Maquise 1/13/2003
382. The Reckoning 1/13/2003
383. Take It Easy 1/13/2003
384. Old Engine Driver 1/13/2003
385. The Man From Eldorado 1/13/2003
386. My Mate 1/13/2003
387. The Flower Shop 1/13/2003
388. The Ballad Of The Leather Medal 1/13/2003
389. The Man Who Knew 1/13/2003
390. The Parson's Son 1/13/2003
391. Premonition 1/13/2003
392. Kittens 1/13/2003
393. The Ballad Of One-Eyed Mike 1/13/2003
394. Two Husbands 1/13/2003
395. My Husky Team 1/13/2003
396. On The Wire 1/13/2003
397. The Dream 1/13/2003
398. Lord Let Me Live 1/13/2003
399. Successful Failure 1/13/2003
400. No Sunday Chicken 1/13/2003
Best Poem of Robert William Service

The Cremation Of Sam Mcgee

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in ...

Read the full of The Cremation Of Sam Mcgee

The Enigma

The Sergeant of a Highland Reg-
-Iment was drilling of his men;
With temper notably on edge
He blest them every now and then.
A sweet old lady standing by,
Was looking on with fascination,
And then she dared this question shy,
That pertubates the Celtic nation.

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