Old Year! upon the Stage of Time You stand to bow your last adieu; A moment, and the prompter's chime Will ring the curtain down on you. — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
And each forgets, as he strips and runs With a brilliant, fitful pace, It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones Who win in the lifelong race. And each forgets that his youth has fled, Forgets that his prime is past, Till… — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
“I keep collecting books I know I'll never, never read; My wife and daughter tell me so, And yet I never heed. "Please make… — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
“The Call of the Wild They have cradled you in custom, they have primed you with their preaching, They have soaked you in convention… — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit - It's the keeping your chin up that's hard. — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
When children's children shall talk of War as a madness that may not be; When we thank our God for our grief today, and… — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
The happy man is he who knows his limitations, yet bows to no false gods. — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
This is the law of the Yukon, that only the strong shall thrive; that surely the weak shall perish, and only the fit survive. — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code. — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
It's easy to fight when everything's right And you're mad with the thrill and the glory; It's easy to cheer when victory's near, And… — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones who win in the lifelong race. — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
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… — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
Then you've a hunch what the music meant . . . hunger and night and the stars. — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
“A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold; While high overhead, green, yellow and red, the North… — Robert W. Service Copy Share Image
