Robert William Service

(16 January 1874 - 11 September 1958 / Preston)

Robert William Service Poems

121. Village Virtue 1/13/2003
122. The Score 1/13/2003
123. Washerwife 1/13/2003
124. My Holiday 1/13/2003
125. Poet And Peer 1/13/2003
126. The Booby-Trap 1/13/2003
127. Picture Dealer 1/13/2003
128. Portent 1/13/2003
129. My Neighbors 1/13/2003
130. The Answer 1/13/2003
131. Ragetty Doll 1/13/2003
132. Land Mine 1/13/2003
133. Visibility 1/13/2003
134. My Childhood God 1/13/2003
135. The Parting 1/13/2003
136. My Trinity 1/13/2003
137. Old Crony 1/13/2003
138. Milking Time 1/13/2003
139. Virginity 1/13/2003
140. My Tails 1/13/2003
141. The Actor 1/13/2003
142. Rivera Honeymoon 1/13/2003
143. The Sightless Man 1/13/2003
144. The Philanderer 1/13/2003
145. Mike 1/13/2003
146. Ripe Fruit 1/13/2003
147. Room 6: The Little Workgirl 1/13/2003
148. Resignation 1/13/2003
149. Tranquillity 1/13/2003
150. My Cross 1/13/2003
151. Striving 1/13/2003
152. Katie Drummond 1/13/2003
153. My Coffin 1/13/2003
154. Lost 1/13/2003
155. Pavement Poet 1/13/2003
156. The Red Retreat 1/13/2003
157. The Boola-Boola Maid 1/13/2003
158. The Logger 1/13/2003
159. The Lark 1/13/2003
160. Unholy Trinity 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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