Robert W. Service
Robert W. Service
Robert William Servicewas a British-Canadian poet and writer who has often been called "the Bard of the Yukon". He is best known for his poems "The Shooting of Dan McGrew" and "The Cremation of Sam McGee", from his first book, Songs of a Sourdough. His vivid descriptions of the Yukon and its people made it seem that he was a veteran of the Klondike gold rush, instead of the late-arriving bank clerk he actually was. "These humorous tales in verse...
NationalityScottish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth16 January 1874
open pipe
I have some friends, some honest friends, and honest friends are few; My pipe of briar, my open fire, A book that's not too new.
clock far later sadly
Ah! the clock is always slow; It is later than you think; Sadly later than you think; Far, far later than you think
anger climbing shoes
It isn't the mountain ahead that wears you out; it's the grain of sand in your shoe.
travel heart men
There's a race of men that don't fit in, A race that can't sit still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and rove the flood, And they climb the mountain's crest; Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don't know how to rest.
kindness heaven breaths
Our breath is brief, and being so Let's make our heaven here below, And lavish kindness as we go.
winning race quiet
It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones who win in the lifelong race.
being-strong law yukon
This is the law of the Yukon, that only the strong shall thrive; that surely the weak shall perish, and only the fit survive.
travel fire belly
The Wanderlust has got me... by the belly-aching fire
military grit quitting
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit - It's the keeping your chin up that's hard.
trust truth honesty
A promise made is a debt unpaid.
promise debt trails
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
dream men years
Alas! the road to Anywhere is pitfalled with disaster; There's hunger, want, and weariness, yet O we loved it so! As on we tramped exultantly, and no man was our master, And no man guessed what dreams were ours, as, swinging heel and toe, We tramped the road to Anywhere, the magic road to Anywhere, The tragic road to Anywhere, such dear, dim years ago.
failure men thinking
No man can be a failure if he thinks he's a success; If he thinks he is a winner, then he is.
lonely sunset fate
The lonely sunsets flare forlorn Down valleys dreadly desolate; The lonely mountains soar in scorn As still as death, as stern as fate.