'The people's poet'

Robert W. Service

1874 - 1958

He was not a poet's poet. Fancy-Dan dilettantes will dispute the description ‘great.’ He was a people's poet. To the people he was great. They understood him, and knew that any verse carrying the by-line of Robert W. Service would be a lilting thing, clear, clean and power-packed, beating out a story with a dramatic intensity that made the nerves tingle.

- A portion of Mr. Service's obituary, as published in the Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph on Sept. 16, 1958, according to RobertWService.com.

Promoting literacy in a high school English classroom requires teachers to instill in their students a true appreciation for all forms of writing. Through the curriculum, we can expose students to the established literary cannon, which may or may not truly spark their interest.

I stumbled across the poetry of Robert Service as a senior in high school, but the discovery was completely unrelated to any school assignment. I was at the local Barnes and Noble and picked up a non-fiction book – I can’t recall the title – for leisure reading. The book was unrelated to poetry, but on the first page of the book was a poem titled “The Men That Don’t Fit In.” For some reason, the title appealed to me. I read the first stanza and was hooked.

No offense to Maya Angelo, Robert Frost, and the rest of the canonized poets – they’re all wonderful. But for me, there is no greater poet than Robert Service. Through my eyes, there is no greater poem than "The Men That Don't Fit In." I’m sure others feel the same way about their favorite poet, or favorite poem, whoever or whichever that may be. Thanks to Robert Service, I gained a new appreciation for poetry which, in turn, helped me approach other poets with a greater appreciation and understanding.

Here are my top five favorite Robert Service poems. I've listed them by title an also include the opening lines of each poem. To read the full poem, click on the title.

Dreams Are Best

I just think that dreams are best,

Just to sit and fancy things;

Give your gold no acid test,

Try not how your silver rings;

Fancy women pure and good,

Fancy men upright and true:

Fortressed in your solitude,

Let Life be a dream to you.

 

Carry On!

It’s easy to fight when everything’s right,

And you’re mad with thrill and the glory;

It’s easy to cheer when victory’s near,

And wallow in fields that are gory.

It’s a different song when everything’s wrong,

When you’re feeling infernally mortal;

When it’s ten against one, and hope there is none,

Buck up, little soldier, and chortle:

The Ballad of the Brand

'Twas up in a land long famed for gold, where women were far and rare,

Tellus, the smith, had taken to wife a maiden amazingly fair;

Tellus, the brawny worker in iron, hairy and heavy of hand,

Saw her and loved her and bore her away from the tribe of a Southern land;

Deeming her worthy to queen his home and mother him little ones,

That the name of Tellus, the master smith, might live in his stalwart sons.

Now there was little of law in the land, and evil doings were rife,

And every man who joyed in his home guarded the fame of his wife;

For there were those of the silver tongue and the honeyed art to beguile,

Who would cozen the heart from a woman's breast and damn her soul with a smile. 

 The Cremation of Sam McGee

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.

The Men That Don't Fit In

There's a race of men that don't fit in,
A race that can't stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don't know how to rest.