Edgar Albert Guest Poems

There's a heap of pent-up goodness
in the yellow bantam corn,
And I sort o' like to linger
round a berry patch at morn;
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To live as gently as I can;
To be, no matter where, a man;
To take what comes of good or ill
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The little path that leads to home,
That is the road for me,
I know no finer path to roam,
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Mother for me made excuses
When I was a little lad;
Found some reason for my conduct
When it had been very bad.
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Can't is the worst word that's written or spoken;
Doing more harm here than slander and lies;
On it is many a strong spirit broken,
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AFTER all is said and done,
After all the work and fun,
After all the sighing's over
And the laughter fades away,
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Be Cheerful
The world is bright and sunny —
If you haven't any money,
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FOR every man who works there are
A dozen who will let him;
They'll smiling bask within the shade
The while his duties fret him.
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CAN you go to another who wins in the fight
And give him a hand-shake that 's true?
Do you find yourself feeling a sense of delight
In the good work another may do?
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WE play at our house and have all sorts of fun,
An' there's always a game when supper is done;
An' at our house there's marks on the walls an' the stairs,
...