Edgar Albert Guest Poems

The roses are bedded for winter, the tulips are planted for spring;
The robins and martins have left us; there are only the sparrows to sing.
The garden seems solemnly silent, awaiting its blankets of snow,
...

I wish I was a poet like the men that write in books
The poems that we have to learn on valleys, hills an' brooks;
I'd write of things that children like an' know an' understand,
An' when the kids recited them the folks would call them grand.
...

Little lady at the altar,
Vowing by God's book and psalter
To be faithful, fond and true
Unto him who stands by you,
Think not that romance is ended,
...

Isn't it fine when the day is done,
And the petty battles are lost or won,
When the gold is made and the ink is dried,
To quit the struggle and turn aside
...

It may be I'm old-fashioned, but the times I like the best
Are not the splendid parties with the women gaily dressed,
And the music tuned for dancing and the laughter of the throng,
With a paid comedian's antics or a hired musician's song,
...

It's funny 'bout a feller's hat-
He can't remember where it's at,
Or where he took it off, or when,
The time he's wantin' it again.
...

I must get out to the woods again, to the whispering trees and the birds
awing,
Away from the haunts of pale-faced men, to the spaces wide where strength
is king;
...

Old women say that men don't know
The pain through which all mothers go,
And maybe that is true, and yet
I vow I never shall forget
...

Father's in the woodshed,
Cleaning forty fish;
Mother's in the kitchen,
Washing every dish;
...

We're gittin' so we need again
To see the sproutin' seed again.
We've been shut up all winter long
Within our narrow rooms;
...