Quatrains - Revision history

Luisa.pfeifer at 12:20, 9 April 2026

2026-04-09T12:20:30Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 14:20, 9 April 2026
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	<meta author="Service, Robert William" year_of_publication="1907" genre="Poetry" publisher="Barse & Hopkins" journal="Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses" page_range="62-63"></meta>		<meta author="Service, Robert William" year_of_publication="1907" genre="Poetry" publisher="Barse & Hopkins" journal="Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses" page_range="62-63" additional_information="https://archive.org/details/collectedpoemsof0000serv/page/40/mode/2up" ></meta>
	<annotations>		<annotations>

Louisa.kaendler: Page Numbers

2026-02-23T13:50:03Z

Page Numbers

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:50, 23 February 2026
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	<meta		<meta author="Service, Robert William" year_of_publication="1907" genre="Poetry" publisher="Barse & Hopkins" journal="Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses" page_range="62-63"></meta>
	author="Service, Robert William"
	year_of_publication="1907"
	genre="Poetry"
	publisher="Barse & Hopkins"
	journal="Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses"
	page_range="59-60"
	/>
	<annotations>		<annotations>

Jannis.buschky at 07:29, 17 July 2024

2024-07-17T07:29:54Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 09:29, 17 July 2024
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	One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar,		One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar,
	To flicker feebly, or to soar, a star;		To flicker feebly, or to soar, a star;
	It lies with ~~thee — the~~ choice is thine, is thine,		It lies with thee—the choice is thine, is thine,
	To hit the ties or drive thy auto-car.		To hit the ties or drive thy auto-car.
	</poem>		</poem>
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	<paragraph keywords="">		<paragraph keywords="">
	<poem>		<poem>
	I answered Her: The choice is ~~mine — ah~~, no!		I answered Her: The choice is mine—ah, no!
	We all were made or marred long, long ago.		We all were made or marred long, long ago.
	The parts are written; hear the super wail:		The parts are written; hear the super wail:
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			<paragraph keywords="">
			<poem>
			Blind fools of fate and slaves of circumstance,
			Life is a fiddler, and we all must dance.
			From gloom where mocks that will-o'-wisp, Free-will
			I heard a voice cry: "Say, give us a chance."
			</poem>
			</paragraph>


	<paragraph keywords="">		<paragraph keywords="">
	<poem>		<poem>
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	<paragraph keywords="">		<paragraph keywords="">
	<poem>		<poem>
	It's all ~~decreed — the~~ mighty earthquake crash;		It's all decreed—the mighty earthquake crash;
	The countless constellations' wheel and flash;		The countless constellations' wheel and flash;
	The rise and fall of empires, war's red tide;		The rise and fall of empires, war's red tide;
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	From out the mesh of fate our heads we thrust.		From out the mesh of fate our heads we thrust.
	We can't do what we would, but what we must.		We can't do what we would, but what we must.
	Heredity has got us in a ~~cinch —~~		Heredity has got us in a cinch—
	(Consoling thought when you've been on a "bust.")		(Consoling thought when you've been on a "bust.")
	</poem>		</poem>

Jannis.buschky at 12:33, 1 July 2024

2024-07-01T12:33:55Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 14:33, 1 July 2024
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	year_of_publication="1907"		year_of_publication="1907"
	genre="Poetry"		genre="Poetry"
	publisher="~~New York:~~ Barse & Hopkins"		publisher="Barse & Hopkins"
	journal="Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses"		journal="Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses"
	page_range="59-60"		page_range="59-60"
	/>		/>
	<annotations>		<annotations>
	~~== Quatrains ==~~

	<paragraph keywords="car, metaphor, metaphysics">		<paragraph keywords="car, metaphor, metaphysics">
	<poem>		<poem>
Line 59:		Line 60:


	<paragraph keywords="~~car, sound~~">		<paragraph keywords="">
	<poem>		<poem>
	From out the mesh of fate our heads we thrust.		From out the mesh of fate our heads we thrust.

Jannis.buschky: Created page with " == Quatrains == One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar, To flicker feebly, or to soar, a star; It lies with thee — the choice is thine, is thine, To hit the ties or drive thy auto-car.
2024-05-22T11:11:52Z

Created page with "<meta author="Service, Robert William" year_of_publication="1907" genre="Poetry" publisher="New York: Barse & Hopkins" journal="Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses" page_range="59-60" /> <annotations> == Quatrains == <paragraph keywords="car, metaphor, metaphysics"> <poem> One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar, To flicker feebly, or to soar, a star; It lies with thee — the choice is thine, is thine, To hit the ties or drive thy auto-car. </poem> </para..."

New page
<meta
author="Service, Robert William"
year_of_publication="1907"
genre="Poetry"
publisher="New York: Barse & Hopkins"
journal="Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses"
page_range="59-60"
/>
<annotations>
== Quatrains ==
<paragraph keywords="car, metaphor, metaphysics">
<poem>
One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar,
To flicker feebly, or to soar, a star;
It lies with thee — the choice is thine, is thine,
To hit the ties or drive thy auto-car.
</poem>
</paragraph>

<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
I answered Her: The choice is mine — ah, no!
We all were made or marred long, long ago.
The parts are written; hear the super wail:
"Who is stage-managing this cosmic show?"
</poem>
</paragraph>

<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
Chance! Oh, there is no chance! The scene is set.
Up with the curtain! Man, the marionette,
Resumes his part. The gods will work the wires.
They've got it all down fine, you bet, you bet!
</poem>
</paragraph>

<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
It's all decreed — the mighty earthquake crash;
The countless constellations' wheel and flash;
The rise and fall of empires, war's red tide;
The composition of your dinner hash.
</poem>
</paragraph>

<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
There's no haphazard in this world of ours.
Cause and effect are grim, relentless powers.
They rule the world. (A king was shot last night;
Last night I held the joker and both bowers.)
</poem>
</paragraph>

<paragraph keywords="car, sound">
<poem>
From out the mesh of fate our heads we thrust.
We can't do what we would, but what we must.
Heredity has got us in a cinch —
(Consoling thought when you've been on a "bust.")
</poem>
</paragraph>

<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
Hark to the song where spheral voices blend:
"There's no beginning, never will be end."
It makes us nutty; hang the astral chimes!
The table's spread; come, let us dine, my friend.
</poem>
</paragraph>

</annotations>