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207 Works of Robert W. Service

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Because my overcoat’s in pawn,I choose to take my glassWithin a little bistro onThe rue du Montparnasse;The dusty bins with bottles shine,The counter’s lined with zinc,And there I sit and drink my wine,And think and think and think. I think of hoary old Stamboul,Of Moslem and of Greek,Of Persian in coat of wool,Of Kurd and […]

She was a Philistine spick and span,He was a bold Bohemian.She had the mode, and the last at that;He had a cape and a brigand hat.She was so riant and chic and trim;He was so shaggy, unkempt and grim.On the rue de la Paix she was wont to shine;The rue de la Gaite was more […]

The Wee Shop

Story type: Poetry

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She risked her all, they told me, bravely sinkingThe pinched economies of thirty years;And there the little shop was, meek and shrinking,The sum of all her dreams and hopes and fears.Ere it was opened I would see them in it,The gray-haired dame, the daughter with her crutch;So fond, so happy, hoarding every minute,Like artists, for […]

The Release

Story type: Poetry

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To-day within a grog-shop nearI saw a newly captured linnet,Who beat against his cage in fear,And fell exhausted every minute;And when I asked the fellow thereIf he to sell the bird were willing,He told me with a careless airThat I could have it for a shilling. And so I bought it, cage and all(Although I […]

He’s yonder, on the terrace of the Cafe de la Paix,The little wizened Spanish man, I see him every day.He’s sitting with his Pernod on his customary chair;He’s staring at the passers with his customary stare.He never takes his piercing eyes from off that moving throng,That current cosmopolitan meandering along:Dark diplomats from Martinique, pale Rastas […]

It’s good the great green earth to roam,Where sights of awe the soul inspire;But oh, it’s best, the coming home,The crackle of one’s own hearth-fire!You’ve hob-nobbed with the solemn Past;You’ve seen the pageantry of kings;Yet oh, how sweet to gain at lastThe peace and rest of Little Things! Perhaps you’re counted with the Great;You strain […]

Golden Days

Story type: Poetry

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Another day of toil and strife,Another page so white,Within that fateful Log of LifeThat I and all must write;Another page without a stainTo make of as I may,That done, I shall not see againUntil the Judgment Day. Ah, could I, could I backward turnThe pages of that Book,How often would I blench and burn!How often […]

The Auction Sale

Story type: Poetry

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Her little head just topped the window-sill;She even mounted on a stool, maybe;She pressed against the pane, as children will,And watched us playing, oh so wistfully!And then I missed her for a month or more,And idly thought: “She’s gone away, no doubt,”Until a hearse drew up beside the door . . .I saw a tiny […]

We’re taking Marie Toro to her home in Pere-La-Chaise;We’re taking Marie Toro to her last resting-place.Behold! her hearse is hung with wreaths till everything is hidExcept the blossoms heaping high upon her coffin lid.A week ago she roamed the street, a draggle and a slut,A by-word of the Boulevard and everybody’s butt;A week ago she […]

I dreamed I saw three demi-gods who in a cafe sat,And one was small and crapulous, and one was large and fat;And one was eaten up with vice and verminous at that. The first he spoke of secret sins, and gems and perfumes rare;And velvet cats and courtesans voluptuously fair:“Who is the Sybarite?” I asked. […]

Fi-Fi In Bed

Story type: Poetry

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Up into the sky I stare;All the little stars I see;And I know that God is thereO, how lonely He must be! Me, I laugh and leap all day,Till my head begins to nod;He’s so great, He cannot play:I am glad I am not God. Poor kind God upon His throne,Up there in the sky […]

The Pencil Seller

Story type: Poetry

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A pencil, sir; a penny–won’t you buy?I’m cold and wet and tired, a sorry plight;Don’t turn your back, sir; take one just to try;I haven’t made a single sale to-night.Oh, thank you, sir; but take the pencil too;I’m not a beggar, I’m a business man.Pencils I deal in, red and black and blue;It’s hard, but […]

Clorinda met me on the wayAs I came from the train;Her face was anything but gay,In fact, suggested pain.“Oh hubby, hubby dear!” she cried,“I’ve awful news to tell. . . .”“What is it, darling?” I replied;“Your mother–is she well?” “Oh no! oh no! it is not that,It’s something else,” she wailed,My heart was beating pit-a-pat,My […]

The Philanderer

Story type: Poetry

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Oh, have you forgotten those afternoonsWith riot of roses and amber skies,When we thrilled to the joy of a million Junes,And I sought for your soul in the deeps of your eyes?I would love you, I promised, forever and aye,And I meant it too; yet, oh, isn’t it odd?When we met in the Underground to-dayI […]

I look at no one, me;I pass them on the stair;Shadows! I don’t see;Shadows! everywhere.Haunting, taunting, staring, glaring,Shadows! I don’t care.Once my room I gainThen my life begins.Shut the door on pain;How the Devil grins!Grin with might and main;Grin and grin in vain;Here’s where Heav’n begins:Cocaine! Cocaine! A whiff! Ah, that’s the thing.How it makes […]

I’m one of these haphazard chapsWho sit in cafes drinking;A most improper taste, perhaps,Yet pleasant, to my thinking.For, oh, I hate discord and strife;I’m sadly, weakly human;And I do think the best of lifeIs wine and song and woman. Now, there’s that youngster on my rightWho thinks himself a poet,And so he toils from morn […]

Three gentlemen live close beside me–A painter of pictures bizarre,A poet whose virtues might guide me,A singer who plays the guitar;And there on my lintel is Cupid;I leave my door open, and yetThese gentlemen, aren’t they stupid!They never make love to Babette. I go to the shop every morning;I work with my needle and thread;Silk, […]

He gives me such a bold and curious look,That young American across the way,As if he’d like to put me in a book(Fancies himself a poet, so they say.)Ah well! He’ll make no “document” of me.I lock my door. Ha! ha! Now none shall see. . . . Pictures, just pictures piled from roof to […]

My Neighbors

Story type: Poetry

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To rest my fagged brain now and then,When wearied of my proper labors,I lay aside my lagging penAnd get to thinking on my neighbors;For, oh, around my garret denThere’s woe and poverty a-plenty,And life’s so interesting whenA lad is only two-and-twenty. Now, there’s that artist gaunt and wan,A little card his door adorning;It reads: “Je […]

I Let others sing of gold and gear, the joy of being rich;But oh, the days when I was poor, a vagrant in a ditch!When every dawn was like a gem, so radiant and rare,And I had but a single coat, and not a single care;When I would feast right royally on bacon, bread and […]