Edgar Albert Guest

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

Edgar Albert Guest Poems

561. The Evening Prayer 8/27/2014
562. The Bank Clerk 8/27/2014
563. Being Dad On Christmas Eve 8/27/2014
564. The Limit 8/27/2014
565. The Little Orphan 7/15/2014
566. The Better Job 8/14/2014
567. A Woman's Love 8/14/2014
568. A Convalescin' Woman 8/14/2014
569. Couldn'T Live Without You 8/14/2014
570. When We Understand The Plan 8/14/2014
571. The Children 8/14/2014
572. I Ain'T Dead Yet 8/14/2014
573. Little Girls Are Best 8/14/2014
574. A Heart To Heart Talk 8/14/2014
575. Joy 8/14/2014
576. Don'T Worry, Little Girl 8/14/2014
577. The Contented Man 8/14/2014
578. Up And Down The Lanes Of Love 8/14/2014
579. Alone 8/15/2014
580. An Easy World 7/14/2014
581. Duty 7/14/2014
582. My Paw Said So 7/12/2014
583. Preparedness 7/12/2014
584. Little Master Mischievous 7/12/2014
585. The Happy Slow Thinker 7/14/2014
586. The Princess Pat's 7/15/2014
587. Homesick 7/15/2014
588. House-Hunting 7/15/2014
589. Grandpa 7/15/2014
590. Selfishness 7/15/2014
591. Show Me! 8/14/2014
592. America 8/14/2014
593. Fishing Nooks 7/12/2014
594. The Few 7/12/2014
595. About Boys 7/12/2014
596. Memory 7/12/2014
597. Marjorie 7/12/2014
598. Bulb Planting Time 7/12/2014
599. To The Humble 7/12/2014
600. Reward 7/12/2014

Comments about Edgar Albert Guest

  • Chester Copeland (10/9/2014 9:12:00 AM)

    I have a copy of a poem, attributed to Edgar Guest, entitled The Lighthouse Keeper Wonders. I cannot locate this poem under his name in these listings. Can anyone offer an explanation?

    The poem is about the speculations of an ex-lighthouse keeper who was put ashore (retired) by the mechanical automation of his lighthouse.

    17 person liked.
    21 person did not like.
  • Lorrie Martinez (11/3/2013 8:35:00 PM)

    I have the original writing of I follow the famous father it's on a brown paper bag it is sign by Edgar Albert Guest himself. It was in a frame with a document and it was behind the document

    34 person liked.
    16 person did not like.
  • Jeanette Porter (9/1/2013 9:33:00 AM)

    Edgar Guest was not just a poet but a teacher of what we would call now long lost morals. Although I am much to young to have seen his poetry in print I can say without a doubt he shaped my life and is a large part of who I am today. Brilliant poet!

    39 person liked.
    24 person did not like.
  • Wyman Atkinson (6/16/2013 10:12:00 AM)

    I have and have read most of Mr. Guest's poems. I'm certain a lot would consider his work hackneyed and perhaps by to-days standard of poetry, some might agree. Edgar lived in a different time, a more simple, less complex and naive time in history. I read his work, with my head in my mother's era (1911) . Mr. Guest wrote with his heart and his soul and all of it made perfect sense. He was Detroit's poet laureate!

    39 person liked.
    18 person did not like.
  • John Burdick (6/10/2012 5:24:00 AM)

    I just love the man but wish I could find more of his biography. I would like to know about his religious beliefs.

    43 person liked.
    22 person did not like.
  • 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 (:

    28 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.

    40 person liked.
    14 person did not like.
  • 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.

    35 person liked.
    18 person did not like.
  • Steven Albert (10/20/2007 3:48:00 AM)

    THIS IS ONE OF THE BETTER SITES THAT I HAVE BEEN TO. I JUST SIGNED UP AND I HAVE TO EXPLORE THE SITE MORE.
    THANK YOU

    12 person liked.
    24 person did not like.
Best Poem of Edgar Albert Guest

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,
An' he has trouble with the boss;
You take his whole life, through an' through,
Why, he's no better off than you.

If whinin' brushed the clouds away
I wouldn't have a word to say;
If it made good friends out o' ...

Read the full of Hard Luck

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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