Quotes by Robert W. Service

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Robert William Service (January 16, 1874 September 11, 1958) was a poet born into a Scottish family while they were living in Preston, England. more

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It isn't the mountain ahead that wears you out; it's the grain of sand in your shoe.

A promise made is a debt unpaid.
Let others Sing of Youth and Spring, still will it seem to me The golden time's the olden time, some time round Sixty-five.
Master, I've filled my contract, wrought in Thy many lands; Not by my sins wilt Thou judge me, but by the work of my hands. Master, I've done Thy bidding, and the light is low in the west, And the long, long shift is over . . . Master, I've earned it--Rest.
Ay, War, they say, is hell; it's heaven, too. It lets a man discover what he's worth. It takes his measure, shows what he can do, Gives him a joy like nothing else on earth. It fans in him a flame that otherwise Would flicker out, these drab, discordant days; It teaches him in pain and sacrifice Faith, fortitude, grim courage past all praise.
My pipe is out, my glass is dry; My fire is almost ashes too; But once again, before you go, And I prepare to meet the New: Old Year! a parting word that's true, For we've been comrades, you and I--I thank God for each day of you; There! bless you now! Old Year, good-bye!
A parrot nears a hundred years (or so the legend goes), So were I he this century I might see to its close. Then I might swing within my ring while revolutions roar, And watch a world to ruin hurled--and find it all a bore.
Cares seem to crowd on us--so much to do; New fields to conquer, and time's on the wing. Grey hairs are showing, a wrinkle or two; Somehow our footstep is losing its spring. Pleasure's forsaken us, Love ceased to smile; Youth has been funeralled; Age travels fast. Sometimes we wonder: is it worth while?
O dear little cabin, I've loved you so long, And now I must bid you good-bye! I've filled you with laughter, I've thrilled you with song And sometimes I've wished I could cry. Your walls they have witnessed a weariful fight, And rung to a won Waterloo: But oh, in my triumph I'm dreary to-night--Good-bye, little cabin, to you!
Alas! old man, we're wealthy now, it's sad beyond a doubt; We cannot dodge prosperity, success has found us out. Your eye is very dull and drear, my brow is creased with care, We realize how hard it is to be a millionaire.