"Robert Service" Great Poet

[buckee]

Since Orlan brought up "Robert Service", one of the greatest poets ever. I thought I would do a little reading myself, since I'm only familiar with a few of his poems that we read in English class at school. He sure has some great stuff.

Here's one for all of us to head. Too late for me, but it might help someone.

THE RECKONING

It's fine to have a blow-out in a fancy restaurant,

With terrapin and canvas-back and all the wine you want;

To enjoy the flowers and music, watch the pretty women pass,

Smoke a choice cigar, and sip the wealthy water in your glass.

It's bully in a high-toned joint to eat and drink your fill,

But it's quite another matter when you

Pay the bill.

It's great to go out every night on fun or pleasure bent;

To wear your glad rags always and to never save a cent;

To drift along regardless, have a good time every trip;

To hit the high spots sometimes, and to let your chances slip;

To know you're acting foolish, yet to go on fooling still,

Till Nature calls a show-down, and you

Pay the bill.

Time has got a little bill -- get wise while yet you may,

For the debit side's increasing in a most alarming way;

The things you had no right to do, the things you should have done,

They're all put down; it's up to you to pay for every one.

So eat, drink and be merry, have a good time if you will,

But God help you when the time comes, and you

Foot the bill.

AUTHOR: Robert Service

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The Men That Don't Fit In

There's a race of men that don't fit in,

A race that can't stay still;

So they break the hearts of kith and kin,

And they roam the world at will.

They range the field and they rove the flood,

And they climb the mountain's crest;

Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,

And they don't know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;

They are strong and brave and true;

But they're always tired of the things that are,

And they want the strange and new.

They say: "Could I find my proper groove,

What a deep mark I would make!"

So they chop and change, and each fresh move

Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs

With a brilliant, fitful pace,

It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones

Who win in the lifelong race.

And each forgets that his youth has fled,

Forgets that his prime is past,

Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead,

In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;

He has just done things by half.

Life's been a jolly good joke on him,

And now is the time to laugh.

Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;

He was never meant to win;

He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;

He's a man who won't fit in.

[buckee]

Re: \"Robert Service\" Great Poet

Here's one I don't remember, but one many of us can relate to.

[ QUOTE ]

The Rhyme of the Remittance Man

There's a four-pronged buck a-swinging in the shadow of my cabin,

And it roamed the velvet valley till to-day;

But I tracked it by the river, and I trailed it in the cover,

And I killed it on the mountain miles away.

Now I've had my lazy supper, and the level sun is gleaming

On the water where the silver salmon play;

And I light my little corn-cob, and I linger, softly dreaming,

In the twilight, of a land that's far away.

Far away, so faint and far, is flaming London, fevered Paris,

That I fancy I have gained another star;

Far away the din and hurry, far away the sin and worry,

Far away -- God knows they cannot be too far.

Gilded galley-slaves of Mammon -- how my purse-proud brothers taunt me!

I might have been as well-to-do as they

Had I clutched like them my chances, learned their wisdom, crushed my fancies,

Starved my soul and gone to business every day.

Well, the cherry bends with blossom and the vivid grass is springing,

And the star-like lily nestles in the green;

And the frogs their joys are singing, and my heart in tune is ringing,

And it doesn't matter what I might have been.

While above the scented pine-gloom, piling heights of golden glory,

The sun-god paints his canvas in the west,

I can couch me deep in clover, I can listen to the story

Of the lazy, lapping water -- it is best.

While the trout leaps in the river, and the blue grouse thrills the cover,

And the frozen snow betrays the panther's track,

And the robin greets the dayspring with the rapture of a lover,

I am happy, and I'll nevermore go back.

For I know I'd just be longing for the little old log cabin,

With the morning-glory clinging to the door,

Till I loathed the city places, cursed the care on all the faces,

Turned my back on lazar London evermore.

So send me far from Lombard Street, and write me down a failure;

Put a little in my purse and leave me free.

Say: "He turned from Fortune's offering to follow up a pale lure,

He is one of us no longer -- let him be."

I am one of you no longer; by the trails my feet have broken,

The dizzy peaks I've scaled, the camp-fire's glow;

By the lonely seas I've sailed in -- yea, the final word is spoken,

I am signed and sealed to nature. Be it so.

[/ QUOTE ]

[OJR]

Re: \"Robert Service\" Great Poet

I've read all of these and he sure did cast the scene for every poem that he wrote!

Outstanding poetry!