Home > Author > Edgar A. Guest
1 " I have to live with myself and so, I want to be fit for myself to know. "
― Edgar A. Guest
2 " A Book “Now” - said a good book unto me -“Open my pages and you shall seeJewels of wisdom and treasures fine,Gold and silver in every line,And you may claim them if you but willOpen my pages and take your fill.“Open my pages and run them o’er,Take what you choose of my golden store.Be you greedy, I shall not care -All that you seize I shall gladly spare;There is never a lock on my treasure doors,Come - here are my jewels, make them yours!“I am just a book on your mantel shelf,But I can be part of your living self;If only you’ll travel my pages through,Then I will travel the world with you.As two wines blended make better wine,Blend your mind with these truths of mine.“I’ll make you fitter to talk with men,I’ll touch with silver the lines you pen,I’ll lead you nearer the truth you seek,I’ll strengthen you when your faith grows weak -This place on your shelf is a prison cell,Let me come into your mind to dwell! "
― Edgar A. Guest , Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest
3 " DREAMSNever by many are marvels wrought,By one or two are the dreams first caught. . .The dreamer must toil when the odds are great,Must stand to failure and work and wait.Must keep his faith though he stand alone,Until the truth of his dream is known. "
4 " This I would like to be- braver and bolder, Just a bit wiser because I am older, Just a bit kinder to those I may meet, Just a bit manlier taking defeat; This for the New Year my wish and my plea- Lord, make a regular man out of me. This I would like to be- just a bit finer, More of a smiler and less of a whiner, Just a bit quicker to stretch out my hand Helping another who's struggling to stand, This is my prayer for the New Year to be, Lord, make a regular man out of me. This I would like to be- just a bit fairer, Just a bit better, and just a bit squarer, Not quite so ready to censure and blame, Quicker to help every man in the game, Not quite so eager men's failings to see, Lord, make a regular man out of me. This I would like to be- just a bit truer, Less of the wisher and more of the doer, Broader and bigger, more willing to give, Living and helping my neighbor to live! This for the New Year my prayer and my plea- Lord, make a regular man out of me. "
5 " The Gentle GardenerI'd like to leave but daffodils to mark my little way,To leave but tulips red and white behind me as I stray;I'd like to pass away from earth and feel I'd left behindBut roses and forget-me-nots for all who come to find.I'd like to sow the barren spots with all the flowers of earth,To leave a path where those who come should find but gentle mirth;And when at last I'm called upon to join the heavenly throngI'd like to feel along my way I'd left no sign of wrong.And yet the cares are many and the hours of toil are few;There is not time enough on earth for all I'd like to do;But, having lived and having toiled, I'd like the world to findSome little touch of beauty that my soul had left behind. "
6 " It matters not what goal you seek Its secret here reposesYou've got to dig from week to week To get Results or Roses. "
7 " The little house is not too smallTo shelter friends who come to call.Though low the roof and small its spaceIt holds the Lord's abounding grace,And every simple room may beEndowed with happy memory.The little house, severly plain,A wealth of beauty may contain.Within it those who dwell may findHigh faith which makes for peace of mind,And that sweet understanding whichCan make the poorest cottage rich.The little house can hold all thingsFrom which the soul's contentment springs.'Tis not too small for love to grow,For all the joys that mortals know,For mirth and song and that delightWhich make the humblest dwelling bright. "
8 " At ChristmasA man is at his finest towards the finish of the year;He is almost what he should be when the Christmas season's here;Then he's thinking more of others than he's thought the months before,And the laughter of his children is a joy worth toiling for.He is less a selfish creature than at any other time;When the Christmas spirit rules him he comes close to the sublime. "
9 " Father! My father knows the proper way The nation should be run;He tells us children every dayJust what should now be done.He knows the way to fix the trusts,He has a simple plan;But if the furnace needs repairs,We have to hire a man.My father, in a day or twoCould land big thieves in jail;There's nothing that he cannot do,He knows no word like "fail.""Our confidence" he would restore,Of that there is no doubt;But if there is a chair to mend,We have to send it out.All public questions that arise,He settles on the spot;He waits not till the tumult dies,But grabs it while it's hot.In matters of finance he canTell Congress what to do;But, O, he finds it hard to meetHis bills as they fall due.It almost makes him sick to readThe things law-makers say;Why, father's just the man they need,He never goes astray.All wars he'd very quickly end,As fast as I can write it;But when a neighbor starts a fuss,'Tis mother has to fight it.In conversation father canDo many wondrous things;He's built upon a wiser planThan presidents or kings.He knows the ins and outs of eachAnd every deep transaction;We look to him for theories,But look to ma for action "
10 " I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have been to me. I'd like to be the help that you've been always glad to be; I'd like to mean as much to you each minute of the day, as you have meant, old friend of mine, to me along the way. "
11 " He was just a small church parson when the war broke out, and heLooked and dressed and acted like all parsons that we see.He wore the cleric's broadcloth and he hooked his vest behind.But he had a man's religion and he had a stong man's mind.And he heard the call to duty, and he quit his church and went.And he bravely tramped right with 'em every- where the boys were sent.He put aside his broadcloth and he put the khaki on;Said he'd come to be a soldier and was going to live like one.Then he'd refereed the prize fights that the boys pulled off at night,And if no one else was handy he'd put on the gloves and fight.He wasn't there a fortnight ere he saw the sol- diers' needs,And he said: "I'm done with preaching; this is now the time for deeds."He learned the sound of shrapnel, he could tell the size of shellFrom the shriek it make above him, and he knew just where it fell.In the front line trench he laboured, and he knew the feel of mud,And he didn't run from danger and he wasn't scared of blood.He wrote letters for the wounded, and he cheered them with his jokes,And he never made a visit without passing round the smokes.Then one day a bullet got him, as he knelt be- side a ladWho was "going west" right speedy, and they both seemed mighty glad,'Cause he held the boy's hand tighter, and he smiled and whispered low,"Now you needn't fear the journey; over there with you I'll go."And they both passed out together, arm in arm I think they went.He had kept his vow to follow everywhere the boys were sent. "
12 " Somebody said that it couldn’t be doneBut he with a chuckle repliedThat “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be oneWho wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.So he buckled right in with the trace of a grinOn his face. If he worried he hid it.He started to sing as he tackled the thingThat couldn’t be done, and he did it!Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;At least no one ever has done it;”But he took off his coat and he took off his hatAnd the first thing we knew he’d begun it.With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,Without any doubting or quiddit,He started to sing as he tackled the thingThat couldn’t be done, and he did it.There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,There are thousands to prophesy failure,There are thousands to point out to you one by one,The dangers that wait to assail you.But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,Just take off your coat and go to it;Just start in to sing as you tackle the thingThat “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it. "
13 " A little bit of hatred can spoil a score of yearsAnd blur the eyes that ought to smile with many needless tears. A little bit of thoughtlessness and anger for a dayCan rob a home of all its joy and drive delight away.. A little bit of shouting in a sharp and vicious toneCan leave a sting that will be felt when many years have flown. And just one hasty moment of ill temper can offendAnd leave an inner injury the years may never mend. It takes no mental fiber to say harsh and bitter things;It doesn't call for courage to employ a lash that stings. And cruel words and bitter any fool can think to say,But the hurt they leave behind them takes years to wipe away. Just a little bit of hatred robs a home of all delight,And leaves a winding trail of wrong that time may never right. For only those are happy and keep their peace of mind,Who guard themselves from hatred and words that are unkind! "
14 " There's no diet list I'll follow that would rule out cherry pie. "
15 " Somebody said that it couldn't be doneBut he with a chuckle repliedThat "maybe it couldn't," but he would be oneWho wouldn't say so till he tried.So he buckled right in with the trace of a grinOn his face. If he worried he hid it.He started to sing as he tackled the thingThat couldn't be done, and he did it. "
16 " I watched them tearing a building down,A gang of men in a busy town.With a ho-heave-ho and a lusty yell, They swung a beam, and the side wall fell.I asked the foreman: "Are these skilled--And the men you'd hire if you had to build?"He gave me a laugh and said: "No, indeed!Just common labor is all I need.I can wreck in a day or twoWhat builders have taken a year to do."And I thought to myself as I went my way,Which of these roles have I tried to play?Am I a builder who works with careMeasuring life by a rule and square?Am I shaping my deeds to a well made Plan,Patiently doing the best I can?Or am I a wrecker, who walks the townContent with the labor of tearing down? "
17 " Results and RosesThe man who wants a garden fair,or small or very big,With flowers growing here and there,Must bend his back and dig.The things are mighty few on earthThat wishes can attain.Whate'er we want of any worthWe've got to work to gain.It matters not what goal you seek,It's secret here reposes:You've got to dig from week to weekTo get Results or Roses. "
18 " Somebody said it couldn't be done.But he with a chuckle replied,That maybe it couldn't, but he would be oneWho wouldn't say so 'till he'd tried.So he buckled right in with a trace of a grinOn his face. If he worried, he hid it.He started to sing as he tackled the thingThat couldn't be done. And he did.Somebody scoffed, "Oh, you'll never do thatAt least no one ever has done it."But he took off his coat, and he took off his hat,And the first thing we know, he'd begun it.With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,Without any doubting or "quit-it".He started to sing as he tackled the thingThat couldn't done. And he did it.There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done.There are thousands to prophesy failure.There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,The dangers that wait to assail youBut just buckle in, with a bit of a grin;Just take off your coat and go to it.Just start in to sing as yout tackle the thingThat cannot be done--and you'll do it! "
19 " I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day; I'd rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way. "
20 " My CreedTo live as gently as I can;To be, no matter where, a man;To take what comes of good or illAnd cling to faith and honor still;To do my best, and let that standThe record of my brain and hand;And then, should failure come to me,Still work and hope for victory.To have no secret place whereinI stoop unseen to shame or sin;To be the same when I'm aloneAs when my every deed is known;To live undaunted, unafraidOf any step that I have made;To be without pretense or shamExactly what men think I am.To leave some simple mark behindTo keep my having lived in mind;If enmity to aught I show,To be an honest, generous foe,To play my little part, nor whineThat greater honors are not mine.This, I believe, is all I needFor my philosophy and creed. "
