Edgar Albert Guest Poems

HE'D made a fortune out of stocks, he couldn't count his worth;
He 'd hoarded up a store of gold, a section of the earth;
But still he sighed alone and talked of all the world's distress,
And mentioned to his dearest friends: 'Gold won't buy happiness.'
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For all the beauties of the day,
The innocence of childhood’s play,
For health and strength and laughter sweet,
Dear Lord, our thanks we now repeat.
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Be a friend. You don't need money;
Just a disposition sunny;
Just the wish to help another
Get along some way or other;
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Somebody said that it couldn't be done
But he with a chuckle replied
That 'maybe it couldn't,' but he would be one
Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.
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When I'm weary of argument wordy
And tired of continuous debate,
When the speaker like some hurdy gurdy,
Which carries on early and late,
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Wherever you may chance to be — wherever you may roam,
Far away in foreign lands; or just at home sweet home;
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Get off your downy cots of ease,
There's work that must be done.
Great danger's riding on the seas.
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You have given me riches and ease,
You have given me joys through the years,
I have sat in the shade of your trees,
With the song of your birds in my ears.
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Here's to you, little mother,
With your boy so far away;
May the joy of service smother
All your grief this Christmas day;
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Courage isn't a brilliant dash,
A daring deed in a moment's flash;
It isn't an instantaneous thing
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