- A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon; The Shooting of Dan McGrew
- A pistol shot rings round and round the world: “Fighting Mac”
- An angel was tired of heaven, as he lounged in the golden street; The Woman and the Angel
- Can you recall, dear comrade, when we tramped God’s land together, The Tramps
- Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there’s nothing else to gaze on, The Call of the Wild
- I haled me a woman from the street, My Madonna
- I know a garden where the lilies gleam, Unforgotten
- I wanted the gold, and I sought it; The Spell of the Yukon
- If you leave the gloom of London and you seek a glowing land, The Younger Son
- If you’re up against a bruiser and you’re getting knocked about— Grin
- It’s cruel cold on the waterfront, silent and dark and drear; New Year’s Eve
- It’s fine to have a blowout in a fancy restaurant, The Reckoning
- O’er the dark pines she sees the silver moon, Music in the Bush
- One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar, Quatrains
- Say! You’ve struck a heap of trouble— Comfort
- The cruel war was over—oh, the triumph was so sweet! The March of the Dead
- The waves have a story to tell me, The Three Voices
- There are strange things done in the midnight sun The Cremation of Sam McGee
- There was a woman, and she was wise; woefully wise was she; The Harpy
- There where the mighty mountains bare their fangs unto the moon; The Heart of the Sourdough
- There’s a cry from out the Loneliness—Oh, listen, Honey, listen! The Lure of Little Voices
- There’s a four-pronged buck a-swinging in the shadow of my cabin, The Rhyme of the Remittance Man
- There’s a race of men that don’t fit in, The Men That Don’t Fit In
- This is the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain: The Law of the Yukon
- This is the payday up at the mines, when the bearded brutes come down; The Low-Down White
- This is the song of the parson’s son, as he squats in his shack alone, The Parson’s Son
- ’Twas a year ago and the moon was bright Premonition
- We couldn’t sit and study for the law; The Rhyme of the Restless Ones
- We sleep in the sleep of ages, the bleak, barbarian pines; The Pines
- When a man gits on his uppers in a hardpan sort of town, The Little Old Log Cabin
- When the long, long day is over, and the Big Boss gives me my pay, The Song of the Wage-Slave
- Ye who know the Lone Trail fain would follow it, The Lone Trail
- You who have lived in the Land, L’Envoi
All poets.