I sing no idle songs of dalliance days, No dreams Elysian inspire my rhyming; I have no Celia to enchant my lays, No pipes of Pan have set my heart to chiming.

The lonely sunsets flame and die; The giant valleys gulp the night; The monster mountains scrape the sky, Where eager stars are diamond-bright.

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...

Robert Service was born in 1874 and grew up in Scotland as the oldest of 10 siblings. Even as a child he craved excitement, but his energy was channeled into the quiet life of a bank clerk. He did enroll in the English Language and Literature program at the University of Glasgow, leaving after challenging a lecturer to a fistfight when the lecturer questioned Service's ability despite his top grades. Bored, he departed for Canada. His family bought him a Buffalo Bill type outfit from an auction for the trip; not entirely practical but thoughtful Once in Canada, Service traveled all the way...

The Spell of the Yukon by Robert W. Service. This book is a reproduction of the original book published in 1907 and may have some imperfections such as marks or hand-written notes.