Edgar Albert Guest Poems

Nobody hates me more than I;
No enemy have I to-day
That I so bravely must defy;
There are no foes along my way,
...

I am eager once more to feel easy,
I'm weary of thinking of dress;
I'm heartily sick of stiff collars,
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To happiness I raise my glass,
The goal of every human,
The hope of every clan and class
And every man and woman.
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I'm up against it day by day,
My ignorance is distressing;
The things I don't know on the way
I'm busily confessing.
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When Pa comes home, I'm at the door,
An' then he grabs me off the floor
An' throws me up an' catches me
When I come down, an' then, says he:
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What do I want my boy to be?
Oft is the question asked of me,
And oft I ask it of myself-
What corner, niche or post or shelf
In the great hall of life would I
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When mother's sewing buttons on
Their little garments, one by one,
I settle down contented there
And watch her in her rocking chair.
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I'd rather be a failure than the man who's never tried;
I'd rather seek the mountain-top than always stand aside.
Oh, let me hold some lofty dream and make my desperate fight,
And though I fail I still shall know I tried to serve the right.
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The things that make a soldier great and send him out to die,
To face the flaming cannon's mouth, nor ever question why,
Are lilacs by a little porch, the row of tulips red,
The peonies and pansies, too, the old petunia bed,
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This is the thing we fight:
A cry of terror in the night;
A ship on work of mercy bent—
A carrier of the sick and maimed—
...