Each Day A Life

I count each day a little life,
With birth and death complete;
I cloister it from care and strife
And keep it sane and sweet.

With eager eyes I greet the morn,
Exultant as a boy,
Knowing that I am newly born
To wonder and to joy.

And when the sunset splendours wane
And ripe for rest am I,
Knowing that I will live again,
Exultantly I die.

O that all Life were but a Day
Sunny and sweet and sane!
And that at Even I might say:
I sleep to wake again.

More poems by Robert Service

A Cabbage Patch

Folk ask if I'm alive, / Most think I'm not;

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Munition Maker

I am the Cannon King, behold! / I perish on a throne of gold.

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My Holiday

I love the cheery bustle / Of children round the house,

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Failure

He wrote a play; by day and night / He strove with passion and delight;

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