Edgar Albert Guest

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

Edgar Albert Guest Poems

241. Mother Nature 8/20/2014
242. They'Re Coming Back 8/20/2014
243. Two Viewpoints 8/20/2014
244. Jimmy 8/20/2014
245. Getting Her A Valentine 8/20/2014
246. Similar 8/20/2014
247. True 8/20/2014
248. Lullaby 8/20/2014
249. The Cut-Down Trousers 8/20/2014
250. Golf Luck 8/20/2014
251. Thoughts Of A Soldier 8/20/2014
252. General Pershing 8/20/2014
253. As It Looks To The Boy 8/20/2014
254. Answering Age 8/20/2014
255. Old-Fashioned Folks 8/20/2014
256. A Friend's Greeting 8/20/2014
257. The Naughty Little Fellow 8/25/2014
258. The Sensible Romance Of Mildred 8/25/2014
259. Worth While 8/25/2014
260. A New Year's Song 8/25/2014
261. A Preference 8/25/2014
262. Temptation 8/25/2014
263. The Right To Joy 8/25/2014
264. The Women Of The Sailors 8/20/2014
265. Human Failings 8/25/2014
266. Mary 8/25/2014
267. The Notion Of Rastus 8/25/2014
268. Charms 8/25/2014
269. The Joys Of Earth 8/25/2014
270. True Philosophy 8/25/2014
271. The Fight With Self 8/25/2014
272. Magazine Girl 8/25/2014
273. Buckle In 8/25/2014
274. The Limitations Of Greatness 8/25/2014
275. Reunited 8/25/2014
276. The Glories Of The Present 8/25/2014
277. The Spendthrift 8/25/2014
278. Tied Down 8/25/2014
279. A Vanished Joy 8/25/2014
280. The Gold Givers 8/25/2014

Comments about Edgar Albert Guest

  • Carolyn Collins (11/13/2015 1:22:00 PM)

    I have Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest and have always loved his poems. I ran across one in an old newspaper during or after the war entitled The VIctory Loan but it isn't in my book. I should have copied it down, but didn't. Does anyone have it?

    16 person liked.
    13 person did not like.
  • 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.

  • 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

  • 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!

  • 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!

  • 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.

  • 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 (:

  • 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)

    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

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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