Edgar Albert Guest

(20 August 1881 - 5 August 1959 / Birmingham / England)

Edgar Albert Guest Poems

401. Roses, Birds And Some Men 8/26/2014
402. What A Sick Woman Does 8/25/2014
403. Tommy Atkins' Way 8/25/2014
404. The Cure For Weariness 8/25/2014
405. For Others—and His Wife 8/25/2014
406. The Influence Of Woman 8/25/2014
407. He Earned His Way 8/25/2014
408. One-Sided Faith 8/20/2014
409. A Real Thriller 8/20/2014
410. The Home-Wrecker 8/20/2014
411. The Homes Of Joy 8/20/2014
412. Off To School 8/20/2014
413. The Test 8/20/2014
414. Man's Experience 8/20/2014
415. Can'T Frighten Them 8/20/2014
416. A Place At The Top 8/20/2014
417. The Man I Like 8/20/2014
418. The Boy's Adventure 8/20/2014
419. What Father Knows 8/20/2014
420. Mother's Job 8/20/2014
421. Old Years And New 8/20/2014
422. A Suggestion 8/20/2014
423. Loser And Victor 8/20/2014
424. Ma And The Ouija Board 8/20/2014
425. Christmas Eve 8/20/2014
426. The Lilacs 8/20/2014
427. Real Lessons 8/20/2014
428. Beautifying The Flag 8/15/2014
429. Aw Gee Whiz! 8/15/2014
430. Aunty 8/15/2014
431. Dreaming 8/15/2014
432. When It's Bad To Forget 8/15/2014
433. The Unknown Friends 8/14/2014
434. At The Peace Table 8/14/2014
435. From Laughter To Labor 8/14/2014
436. The Reason For Work 8/14/2014
437. Faces 8/14/2014
438. Give Me A Single Day 8/14/2014
439. Learn To Smile 8/14/2014
440. Our Little Needs 8/14/2014

Comments about Edgar Albert Guest

  • Cynthia Mcleod (3/28/2012 8:59:00 PM)

    My favorite poem by Guest is not on here. That's such a shame. It's called Teamwork. Google it (:

    26 person liked.
    23 person did not like.
  • Roy Altemus (5/18/2010 11:04:00 PM)

    This was so appropriate for today's drivers. It was on the back of a 1949 Hudson car manual:

    COURTESY / Edgar A. Guest © 1947

    Not the “right of way” when driving, but the simple way of right and never once forgetting to be courteous and polite.
    A little bit of patience as behind the wheel you sit and you’ll never lose a fender and a child you’ll never hit.

    Oh, the worst of phrases ringing all through motordom today is that selfish bit of wording that is known as “right of way.”
    It has filled the graves of many who have sped some road along, since death never asks the question, is the driver right or wrong.

    Just a little thought for others, just remembering to be kind, just the willingness in traffic to slow down and stay behind.
    Just the show of gracious manners which all gentle folks display, and all the accidents that happen will be fewer day by day.

    Just control that flash of temper when another sounds his horn. In the car may be a mother soon to have her baby born.
    Be considerate in your driving and be courteous and be kind, and you’ll reach your dwelling safely and you’ll keep your peace of mind.

  • Naomi Bigelow (2/8/2008 5:08:00 PM)

    I grew up listening to WJR radio out of Detroit; listening to Edgar A. Guest's son, Bud Guest was part of everyday life. I remember one of his dad's poems, 'Open-face Letters' as the earliest one I can recall. This man's poetry and his son's voice are some of the homey things from The Good Old Days. They influenced me to begin writing poetry, too. Although I ended up published with novels, I still write the occasional poem, partly due to the Guests.

  • Steven Albert (10/20/2007 3:48:00 AM)


Best Poem of Edgar Albert Guest

See It Through

When you're up against a trouble,
Meet it squarely, face to face;
Lift your chin and set your shoulders,
Plant your feet and take a brace.
When it's vain to try to dodge it,
Do the best that you can do;
You may fail, but you may conquer,
See it through!
Black may be the clouds about you
And your future may seem grim,
But don't let your nerve desert you;
Keep yourself in fighting trim.
If the worst is bound to happen,
Spite of all that you can do,
Running from it will not save you,
See it ...

Read the full of See It Through

Hard Luck

Ain't no use as I can see
In sittin' underneath a tree
An' growlin' that your luck is bad,
An' that your life is extry sad;
Your life ain't sadder than your neighbor's
Nor any harder are your labors;
It rains on him the same as you,
An' he has work he hates to do;
An' he gits tired an' he gits cross,

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