Edgar Albert Guest Time Poems

My Pa he eats his breakfast
in a funny sort of way:
We hardly ever see him
at the first meal of the day.
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Vacation time! How glad it seemed
When as a boy I sat and dreamed
Above my school books, of the fun
That I should claim when toil was done;
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When a fellow's feeling blue,
And is troubled, through and through
With a melancholy feeling
That he cannot seem to shake,
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Last night he said the dead were dead
And scoffed my faith to scorn;
I found him at a tulip bed
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It makes me smile to hear 'em tell each other nowadays
The burdens they are bearing, with a child or two to raise.
Of course the cost of living has gone soaring to the sky
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Green apple time! an', Oh, the joy
Once more to be a healthy boy,
Casting a longin' greedy eye
At every tree he passes by!
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Tuggin' at your bottle,
An' it's O, you're mighty sweet!
Just a bunch of dimples
From your top-knot to your feet,
Lying there an' gooin'
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IT is Slumberland time, and the storms have passed by,
And the sea is now golden and still,
And the big yellow moon has come up in the sky,
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Always whenever I want to play
I've got to practice an hour a day,
Get through breakfast an' make my bed,
And Mother says: 'Marjorie, run ahead!
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We have boasted our courage in moments of ease,
Our star-spangled banner we've flung on the breeze;
We have taught men to cheer for its beauty and worth,
And have called it the flag of the bravest on earth
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'TELL us a story,' comes the cry
From little lips when nights are cold,
And in the grate the flames leap high.
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It's guessing time at our house; every evening after tea
We start guessing what old Santa's going to leave us on our tree.
Everyone of us holds secrets that the others-try to steal,
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There's a wondrous smell of spices
In the kitchen,
Most bewitchin';
There are fruits cut into slices
...