Home and Love

    Just Home and Love! the words are small
    Four little letters unto each;
    And yet you will not find in all
    The wide and gracious range of speech
    Two more so tenderly complete:
    When angels talk in Heaven above,
    I'm sure they have no words more sweet
    Than Home and Love.

    Just Home and Love! it's hard to guess
    Which of the two were best to gain;
    Home without Love is bitterness;
    Love without Home is often pain.
    No! each alone will seldom do;
    Somehow they travel hand and glove:
    If you win one you must have two,
    Both Home and Love.

    And if you've both, well then I'm sure
    You ought to sing the whole day long;
    It doesn't matter if you're poor
    With these to make divine your song.
    And so I praisefully repeat,
    When angels talk in Heaven above,
    There are no words more simply sweet
    Than Home and Love.

Robert William Service

Robert William Service was a British-Canadian poet and writer, often referred to as 'the Bard of the Yukon.' He is best known for his poems about the Canadian North, particularly the Yukon Territory. Service's works include 'The Shooting of Dan McGrew' and 'The Cremation of Sam McGee,' which have contributed significantly to Canadian literature. His vivid and robust storytelling style, often dramatic and humorous, captivated audiences and made him a prominent literary figure of his time.

Robert William Service

A Domestic Tragedy

Robert William Service, Simple Poetry

Gods in the Gutter

Robert William Service, Simple Poetry

The Man from Eldorado

Robert William Service, Simple Poetry

Moon Song

Robert William Service, Simple Poetry

English

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Love Is Home

    Love is the part, and love is the whole;
    Love is the robe, and love is the pall;
    Ruler of heart and brain and soul,
    Love is the lord and the slave of all!
    I thank thee, Love, that thou lov'st me;
    I thank thee more that I love thee.

    Love is the rain, and love is the air,
    Love is the earth that holdeth fast;
    Love is the root that is buried there,
    Love is the open flower at last!
    I thank thee, Love all round about,
    That the eyes of my love are looking out.

    Love is the sun, and love is the sea;
    Love is the tide that comes and goes;
    Flowing and flowing it comes to me;
    Ebbing and ebbing to thee it flows!
    Oh my sun, and my wind, and tide!
    My sea, and my shore, and all beside!

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The Joy of Little Things

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 last
The peace and rest of Little Things!

Perhaps you're counted with the Great;
You strain and strive with mighty men;
Your hand is on the helm of State;
Colossus-like you stride . . . and then
There comes a pause, a shining hour,
A dog that leaps, a hand that clings:
O Titan, turn from pomp and power;
Give all your heart to Little Things.

Go couch you childwise in the grass,
Believing it's some jungle strange,
Where mighty monsters peer and pass,
Where beetles roam and spiders r...

Robert William Service

The Rover

    I

    Oh, how good it is to be
    Foot-loose and heart-free!
    Just my dog and pipe and I, underneath the vast sky;
    Trail to try and goal to win, white road and cool inn;
    Fields to lure a lad afar, clear spring and still star;
    Lilting feet that never tire, green dingle, fagot fire;
    None to hurry, none to hold, heather hill and hushed fold;
    Nature like a picture book, laughing leaf and bright brook;
    Every day a jewel bright, set serenely in the night;
    Every night a holy shrine, radiant for a day divine.

    Weathered cheek and kindly eye, let the wanderer go by.
    Woman-love and wistful heart, let the gipsy one depart.
    For the farness and the road are his glory and his goad.
    Oh, the lilt of youth and Spring! Eyes l...

Robert William Service

Home

The greatest words are always solitaires,
    Set singly in one syllable; like birth,
    Life, love, hope, peace.    I sing the worth
Of that dear word toward which the whole world fares -
    I sing of home.

To make a home, we should take all of love
    And much of labour, patience, and keen joy;
    Then mix the elements of earth's alloy
With finer things drawn from the realms above,
    The spirit home.

There should be music, melody and song;
    Beauty in every spot; an open door
    And generous sharing of the pleasure store
With fellow-pilgrims as they pass along,
    Seeking for home.

Make ample room for silent friends - the books,
    That give so much and only ask for space.
    Nor let Utility crowd out the vase
Which ha...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Love's History

Love, the baby,
    Crept abroad to pluck a flower:
One said, Yes, sir; one said, Maybe;
    One said, Wait the hour.

Love, the boy,
    Joined the youngsters at their play:
But they gave him little joy,
    And he went away.

Love, the youth,
    Roamed the country, quiver-laden;
From him fled away in sooth
    Many a man and maiden!

Love, the man,
    Sought a service all about;
But they called him feeble, one
    They could do without.

Love, the aged,
    Walking, bowed, the shadeless miles,
Read a volume many-paged,
    Full of tears and smiles.

Love, the weary,
    Tottered down the shelving road:
At its foot, lo, Night, the starry,
    Meeting him from God!

"Love, the holy,"
...

George MacDonald

Prelude: Ballads Of A Bohemian

Alas! upon some starry height,
The Gods of Excellence to please,
This hand of mine will never smite
The Harp of High Serenities.
Mere minstrel of the street am I,
To whom a careless coin you fling;
But who, beneath the bitter sky,
Blue-lipped, yet insolent of eye,
Can shrill a song of Spring;
A song of merry mansard days,
The cheery chimney-tops among;
Of rolics and of roundelays
When we were young . . . when we were young;
A song of love and lilac nights,
Of wit, of wisdom and of wine;
Of Folly whirling on the Heights,
Of hunger and of hope divine;
Of Blanche, Suzette and Celestine,
And all that gay and tender band
Who shared with us the fat, the lean,
The hazard of Illusion-land;
When scores of Philistines we slew
As mightily wi...

Robert William Service