The Cremation of Sam McGee

BY ROBERT W. SERVICE

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 

read the whole poem at....The Cremation of Sam McGee

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields

          In Flanders fields the poppies blow
          Between the crosses, row on row,
           That mark our place; and in the sky
           The larks, still bravely singing, fly
          Scarce heard amid the guns below.

          We are the Dead.  Short days ago
          We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
           Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
                      In Flanders fields.

          Take up our quarrel with the foe:
          To you from failing hands we throw
           The torch; be yours to hold it high.
           If ye break faith with us who die
          We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
                      In Flanders fields.

Love

 

I Would Live in Your Love

I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea,
Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes;
I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me,
I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soul
as it leads.
-Anonymous

April Nights

But Not to Me

The April night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree;
Peace comes to them on quiet feet,
But not to me.


My peace is hidden in his breast
Where I shall never be;
Love comes to-night to all the rest,
But not to me.

Evening Rain

Evening Rain

Rain fell so softly, in the evening,
I almost thought it was the trees that were talking

     - John Fletcher - 1918

A Valentine Poem

I thought I'd share a couple of my favorite poems for Valentine's Day. Hope you have a wonderful day!
.
IF YOU BUT KNEW
.
If you but knew
How all my days seemed filled with dreams of you,
How sometimes in the silent night
Your eyes thrill through me with their tender light,
How oft I hear your voice when others speak,
How you 'mid other forms I seek -
Oh, love more real than though such dreams were true
If you but knew.
.
Could you but guess
How you alone make all my happiness,
How I am more than willing for your sake
To stand alone, give all and nothing take,
Nor chafe to think you bound while I am free,
Quite free, till death, to love you silently,
could you but guess.
.
Could you but learn
How when you doubt my truth I sadly yearn
To tell you all, to stand for one brief space
Unfettered, soul to soul, as face to face,
To crown you king, my king, till life shall end,
My lover and likewise my truest friend,
Would you love me, dearest, as fondly in return,
Could you but learn?

Kinds of Love

Just in time for Valentine's Day.....

KINDS OF LOVE

Foolish love is only folly;
Wanton love is too unholy;
Greedy love is covetous;
Idle love is frivolous;
But the gracious love is it
That doth prove the work of wit.

Beauty but deceives the eye;
Flattery leads the ear awry;
Wealth doth but enchant the wit;
Want, the overthrow of it;
While in Wisdom's worthy grace,
Virtue sees the sweetest face.

There hath Love found out his life,
Peace without all thought of strife;
Kindness in Discretion's care;
Truth, that clearly doth declare
Faith doth in true fancy prove,
Lust the excrements of Love.

Then in faith may fancy see
How my love may construèd be;
How it grows and what it seeks;
How it lives and what it likes;
So in highest grace regard it,
Or in lowest scorn discard it.

by Robert Greene