Edgar Albert Guest Poems

I START the day with paper white,
And put it in my old machine,
And wonder whether, as I write
The night will find my copy clean.
...

Luck had a favor to bestow
And wondered where to let it go.
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When The Minister Calls
My Paw says that it used to be,
Whenever the minister came for tea,
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We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
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WHOM is your boy going to for advice?
Tough Johnny Jones at the end of the street,
Rough Billy Green or untaught Jimmy Price?
Who is now guiding his innocent feet?
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Queerest little chap he is,
Always saying: 'Aw Gee Whiz!'
Needing something from the store
That you've got to send him for
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To us the Flag has little meant.
Each glorious stripe of red
Was woven there to represent
The blood of heroes dead.
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I'm sorry for a feller if he hasn't any aunt,
To let him eat and do the things his mother says he can't.
An aunt to come a visitin' or one to go and see
Is just about the finest kind of lady there could be.
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MEBBE I shall weep tomorrow,
Mebbe I shall lose my job,
Mebbe bowed in grief and sorrow
I shall sit alone and sob.
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JUST now I think
I 'd like to be
At the river's brink
Beneath a tree,
...