Biography of Arthur Guiterman
Arthur Guiterman (pronounced /ˈɡɪtərmən/; November 20, 1871 - January 11, 1943) was an American writer best known for his humorous poems.
Guiterman was born of American parents in Vienna, graduated from the College of the City of New York in 1891, and was married in 1909 to Vida Lindo. He was an editor of the Woman's Home Companion and the Literary Digest. In 1910, he cofounded the Poetry Society of America, and later served as its president in 1925-26.
Arthur Guiterman Poems
The Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic Pup Were playing in the garden when the Bunny gamboled up;
The Chip On The Shoulder
Learn this now before you are older: Don’t go through life with a chip on your shoulder, Always aggrieved and ever offended,
Amœbas at the start Were not complex; They tore themselves apart And started Sex. And Sex has ruled the earth From then till this, Producing ...
In The Hospital
Because on the branch that is tapping my pane A sun-wakened leaf-bud, uncurled, Is bursting its rusty brown sheathing in twain, I know there is Spring in the world.
Habits Of The Hippopotamus
The hippopotamus is strong And huge of head and broad of bustle; The limbs on which he rolls along Are big with hippopotomuscle.
Fate, The Jester
The planets are bells on his motley, He fleers at the stars in their state, He banters the suns burning hotly- The Jester whose nickname is Fate.
On The Vanity Of Earthly Greatness
The tusks which clashed in mighty brawls Of mastodons, are billiard balls.
The Deer don't dine When a Wolf's about, And the Porcupine Sticks his quill-points out.
I never loved your plains!-- Your gentle valleys, Your drowsy country lanes And pleachéd alleys.
The Idol-Maker Prays
Great god whom I shall carve from this gray stone Wherein thou liest, hid to all but me, Grant thou that when my art hath made thee known And others bow, I shall not worship thee.
The Legend Of The First Cam-U-El: An Ara...
Across the sands of Syria, Or possibly Algeria, Or some benighted neighborhood of barrenness and drouth, There came the Prophet Samu-u-el
This is the land that we love; here our fathers found refuge, Here are the grooves of their plows and the mounds of their graves;
The Great Tyrannosaurus
The Great Tyrannosaurus Lived centuries ago; Through marshes wet and porous He rambled to and fro.
Pershing At The Front
The General came in a new tin hat To the shell-torn front where the war was at; With a faithful Aide at his good right hand
In The Hospital
Because on the branch that is tapping my pane
A sun-wakened leaf-bud, uncurled,
Is bursting its rusty brown sheathing in twain,
I know there is Spring in the world.
Because through the sky-patch whose azure and white
My window frames all the day long,
A yellow-bird dips for an instant of flight,
I know there is Song.