Boy O' Mine

Poem of the Day

Boy O' Mine
by Edgar Albert Guest

'Boy o' mine, boy o' mine, this is my prayer for you,
This is my dream and my thought and my care for you:
Strong be the spirit which dwells in the breast of you,
Never may folly or shame get the best of you;
You shall be tempted in fancied security,
But make no choice that is stained with impurity.

Boy o' mine, boy o' mine, time shall command of you
Thought from the brain of you, work from the hand of you;
Voices of pleasure shall whisper and call to you;
Luring you far from the hard tasks that fall to you;
Then as you're meeting life's bitterest test of men,
God grant you strength to be true as the best of men.

Boy o' mine, boy o' mine, singing your way along,
Cling to your laughter and cheerfully play along;
Kind to your neighbor be, offer your hand to him,
You shall grow great as your heart shall expand to him;
But when for victory sweet you are fighting there,
Know that your record of life you are writing there.

Boy o' mine, boy o' mine, this is my prayer for you;
Never may shame pen one line of despair for you;
Never may conquest or glory mean all to you;
Cling to your honor whatever shall fall to you;
Rather than victory, rather than fame to you,
Choose to be true and let nothing bring shame to you.' 

Boy and His Stomach

Poem for the Day

Boy and His Stomach
by Edgar Albert Guest

What's the matter with you- ain't I always been your friend?
Ain't I been a pardner to you? All my pennies don't I spend
In gettin' nice things for you? Don't I give you lots of cake?
Say, stummick, what's the matter, that you had to go an' ache?

Why, I loaded you with good things yesterday, I gave you more
Potatoes, squash an' turkey than you'd ever had before.
I gave you nuts an' candy, pumpkin pie an' chocolate cake,
An' las' night when I got to bed you had to go an' ache.

Say, what's the matter with you- ain't you satisfied at all?
I gave you all you wanted, you was hard jes' like a ball,
An' you couldn't hold another bit of puddin', yet las' night
You ached mos' awful, stummick; that ain't treatin' me jes' right.

I've been a friend to you, I have, why ain't you a friend o' mine?
They gave me castor oil last night because you made me whine.
I'm awful sick this mornin' an' I'm feelin' mighty blue,
'Cause you don't appreciate the things I do for you. 

Be Cheerful

Poem for the Day

Be Cheerful
by Edgar Albert Guest

Be Cheerful
The world is bright and sunny —
If you haven't any money,

What's the difference?

Let me ask you anyhow.
Let the other fellow hurry,
Let the other fellow worry,
You won't know a thing about it

In a hundred years from now. 

Be a Friend

Poem for the Day

Be A Friend
by Edgar Albert Guest

Be a friend. You don't need money;
Just a disposition sunny;
Just the wish to help another
Get along some way or other;
Just a kindly hand extended
Out to one who's unbefriended;
Just the will to give or lend,
This will make you someone's friend.

Be a friend. You don't need glory.
Friendship is a simple story.
Pass by trifling errors blindly,
Gaze on honest effort kindly,
Cheer the youth who's bravely trying,
Pity him who's sadly sighing;
Just a little labor spend
On the duties of a friend.

Be a friend. The pay is bigger
(Though not written by a figure)
Than is earned by people clever
In what's merely self-endeavor.
You'll have friends instead of neighbors
For the profits of your labors;
You'll be richer in the end
Than a prince, if you're a friend. 

Aw - Gee Whiz!

Poem for the Day

This applies to almost any boy, but specifically to one of our grandsons.

Aw - Gee Whiz
by Edgar Albert Guest

Queerest little chap he is,
Always saying: 'Aw Gee Whiz!'
Needing something from the store
That you've got to send him for
And you call him from his play,
Then it is you hear him say:
'Aw Gee Whiz!'

Seems that most expressive phrase
Is a part of childhood days;
Call him in at supper time,
Hands and face all smeared with grime,
Send him up to wash, and he
Answers you disgustedly:
'Aw Gee Whiz!'

When it's time to go to bed
And he'd rather play instead,
As you call him from the street,
He comes in with dragging feet,
Knowing that he has to go,
Then it is he mutters low:
'Aw Gee Whiz!'

Makes no difference what you ask
Of him as a little task;
He has yet to learn that life
Crosses many a joy with strife,
So when duty mars his play,
Always we can hear him say:
'Aw Gee Whiz!' 

Aunty

Poem for the Day

(Very closely a true story for me)

Aunty
by Edgar Albert Guest

I'm sorry for a feller if he hasn't any aunt,
To let him eat and do the things his mother says he can't.
An aunt to come a visitin' or one to go and see
Is just about the finest kind of lady there could be.
Of course she's not your mother, an' she hasn't got her ways,
But a part that's most important in a feller's life she plays.

She is kind an' she is gentle, an' sometimes she's full of fun,
An' she's very sympathetic when some dreadful thing you've done.
An' she likes to buy you candy, an' she's always gettin' toys
That you wish your Pa would get you, for she hasn't any boys.
But sometimes she's over-loving, an' your cheeks turn red with shame
When she smothers you with kisses, but you like her just the same.

One time my father took me to my aunty's, an' he said:
'You will stay here till I get you, an' be sure you go to bed
When your aunty says it's time to, an' be good an' mind her, too,
An' when you come home we'll try to have a big surprise for you.'
I did as I was told to, an' when Pa came back for me
He said there was a baby at the house for me to see.

I've been visitin' at aunty's for a week or two, an' Pa
Has written that he's comin' soon to take me home to Ma.
He says they're gettin' lonely, an' I'm kind o' lonely, too,
Coz an aunt is not exactly what your mother is to you.
I am hungry now to see her, but I'm wondering to-day
If Pa's bought another baby in the time I've been away. 

At The Wedding

Poem for the Day

At The Wedding
by Edgar Albert Guest

There was weepin' by the women that the crowd could plainly see, 
An' old William's throat was chokin' an' his eyes were watery, 
An' he couldn't hardly answer when the parson made him say 
Who it was on that occasion was to give the girl away.

I detest tears at a weddin', an' I didn't like 'em then, 
An' I couldn't see the reason for the lips that trembled when 
Reverend Goodly looked about him ere he tied the knot to stay 
An' said: 'Which of you assembled here now gives this girl away?'

I shall not forget old William an' the solemn look he wore, 
Though he tried his best at smilin' I could tell his heart was sore; 
I could see the tear drops startin' as he looked at little May, 
An' I knew the wrench it caused him when he gave his girl away.

I could hear the women sobbin', an' I didn't dare to look, 
I jes' kep' my face straight forward till the parson closed his book. 
For the heart of me was beatin' not in sadness, but in glee; 
I had reason to be happy. He was givin' her to me. 

At Dawn

Poem for the Day

At Dawn
by Edgar Albert Guest

They come to my room at the break of the day,
With their faces all smiles and their minds full of play;
They come on their tip-toes and silently creep
To the edge of the bed where I'm lying asleep,
And then at a signal, on which they agree,
With a shout of delight they jump right onto me.

They lift up my eyelids and tickle my nose,
And scratch at my cheeks with their little pink toes;
And sometimes to give them a laugh and a scare
I snap and I growl like a cinnamon bear;
Then over I roll, and with three kids astride
I gallop away on their feather-bed ride.

I've thought it all over. Man's biggest mistake
Is in wanting to sleep when his babes are awake;
When they come to his room for that first bit of fun
He should make up his mind that his sleeping is done;
He should share in the laughter they bring to his side
And start off the day with that feather-bed ride.

Oh they're fun at their breakfast and fun at their lunch;
Any hour of the day they're a glorious bunch!
When they're togged up for Sundays they're certainly fine,
And I'm glad in my heart I can call them all mine,
But I think that the time that I like them the best
Is that hour in the morning before they are dressed. 

At Breakfast Time

Poem for the Day
(I think this was written for me and my dad)

At Breakfast Time
by Edgar Albert Guest

My Pa he eats his breakfast 
in a funny sort of way: 
We hardly ever see him 
at the first meal of the day. 
Ma puts his food before him 
and he settles in his place 
An' then he props the paper up 
and we can't see his face; 
We hear him blow his coffee 
and we hear him chew his toast, 
But it's for the morning paper 
that he seems to care the most. 

Ma says that little children 
mighty grateful ought to be 
To the folks that fixed the evening 
as the proper time for tea. 
She says if meals were only served 
to people once a day, 
An' that was in the morning 
just before Pa goes away, 
We'd never know how father looked 
when he was in his place, 
Coz he'd always have the morning paper 
stuck before his face. 

He drinks his coffee steamin' hot, 
an' passes Ma his cup 
To have it filled a second time, 
an' never once looks up. 
He never has a word to say, 
but just sits there an' reads, 
An' when she sees his hand stuck out 
Ma gives him what he needs. 
She guesses what it is he wants, 
coz it's no use to ask: 
Pa's got to read his paper 
an' sometimes that's quite a task. 

One morning we had breakfast 
an' his features we could see, 
But his face was long an' solemn 
an' he didn't speak to me, 
An' we couldn't get him laughin' 
an' we couldn't make him smile, 
An' he said the toast was soggy 
an' the coffee simply vile. 
Then Ma said: 'What's the matter? 
Why are you so cross an' glum?' 
An' Pa 'most took her head off 
coz the paper didn't come. 

As It Is

Poem for the Day

As It Is
by Edgar Albert Guest

I might wish the world were better,
I might sit around and sigh
For a water that is wetter
And a bluer sort of sky.
There are times I think the weather
Could be much improved upon,
But when taken altogether
It's a good old world we're on.
I might tell how I would make it,
But when I have had my say
It is still my job to take It
As it is, from day to day.


I might wish that men were kinder,
And less eager after gold;
I might wish that they were blinder
To the faults they now behold.
And I'd try to make them gentle,
And more tolerant in strife
And a bit more sentimental
O'er the finer things of life.
But I am not here to make them,
Or to work in human clay;
It is just my work to take them
As they are from day to day.

Here's a world that suffers sorrow,
Here are bitterness and pain,
And the joy we plan to-morrow
May be ruined by the rain.
Here are hate and greed and badness,
Here are love and friendship, too,
But the most of it is gladness
When at last we've run it through.
Could we only understand it
As we shall some distant day
We should see that He who planned it
Knew our needs along the way. 

As It Goes

Poem of the Day

As It Goes
by Edgar Albert Guest

In the corner she's left the mechanical toy,
On the chair is her Teddy Bear fine;
The things that I thought she would really enjoy
Don't seem to be quite in her line.
There's the flaxen-haired doll that is lovely to see
And really expensively dressed,
Left alone, all uncared for, and strange though it be,
She likes her rag dolly the best.

Oh, the money we spent and the plans that we laid
And the wonderful things that we bought!
There are toys that are cunningly, skillfully made,
But she seems not to give them a thought.
She was pleased when she woke and discovered them there,
But never a one of us guessed
That it isn't the splendor that makes a gift rare—
She likes her rag dolly the best.

There's the flaxen-haired doll, with the real human hair,
There's the Teddy Bear left all alone,
There's the automobile at the foot of the stair,
And there is her toy telephone;
We thought they were fine, but a little child's eyes
Look deeper than ours to find charm,
And now she's in bed, and the rag dolly lies
Snuggled close on her little white arm. 

As Fall the Leaves

Poem for the Day

As Fall the Leaves
by Edgar Albert Guest

As fall the leaves, so drop the days
In silence from the tree of life;
Born for a little while to blaze
In action in the heat of strife,
And then to shrivel with Time's blast
And fade forever in the past.

In beauty once the leaf was seen;
To all it offered gentle shade;
Men knew the splendor of its green
That cheered them so, would quickly fade:
And quickly, too, must pass away
All that is splendid of to-day.

To try to keep the leaves were vain:
Men understand that they must fall;
Why should they bitterly complain
When sorrows come to one and all?
Why should they mourn the passing day
That must depart along the way? 

Answering Age

Poem for the Day

Answering Age
by Edgar Albert Guest

AGE is calling to me, with his finger long and grim,
It is urging me to wander down the dreary lanes with him,
It has lined my cheeks with furrows, and has tinged my hair with gray,
And is ever whispering to me that I've grown too old to play;
But the heart of me keeps saying, 'Let us dance our way along,
Let us answer age with laughter, let us drive him off with song.'

Age comes to me saying: 'You are mine forever more,
It is vain for you to hunger for the joys you knew of yore.
Now the feet of you are weary, and the eyes of you are dim,
Come with me, my worn-out brother, come and share my dwelling grim.'
But the heart of me keeps saying: 'I will cling to youth for you,
I will keep you in the sunshine where the skies are always blue.

'Give to age your cheeks for furrows, let him silver, if he will.
The hair about your temples, but I'll keep you youthful still;
Let him dull your eyes, if need be, weight your feet with bygone years,
But I'll wake you with my singing, when the break of day appears,
I will fill your days with laughter, and with roses strew your way,
Say to age you do not fear him, while your heart is young and gay.' 

Edgar Albert Guest

An Old-fashioned Welcome

Poem for the Day

An Old-fashioned Welcome

There's nothing cheers a fellow up just like a hearty greeting,
A handclasp and an honest smile that flash the joy of meeting;
And when at friendly doors you ring, somehow it seems to free you
From all life's doubts to hear them say: 'Come in! We're glad to
see you!'

At first the portal slips ajar in answer to your ringing,
And then your eyes meet friendly eyes, and wide the door goes flinging;
And something seems to stir the soul, however troubled be you,
If but the cheery host exclaims: 'Come in! We're glad to see you!' 

Edgar Albert Guest

An Easy World

Poem for the Day

An Easy World
by Edgar Albert Guest

It's an easy world to live in if you choose to make it so;
You never need to suffer, save the griefs that all must know;
If you'll stay upon the level and will 'do the best you can
You will never lack the friendship of a kindly fellow man.

Life's an easy road to travel if you'll only walk it straight;
There are many here to help you in your little bouts with fate;
When the clouds begin to gather and your hopes begin to fade,
If you've only toiled in honor you won't have to call for aid.

But if you've bartered friendship and the faith on which it rests
For a temporary winning; if you've cheated in the tests,
If with promises you've broken, you have chilled the hearts of men ;
It is vain to look for friendship for it will not come again.

Oh, the world is full of kindness, thronged with men who want to be
Of some service to their neighbors and they'll run to you or me
When we're needing their assistance if we've lived upon the square,
But they'll spurn us in our trouble if we've always been unfair.

It's an easy world to live in; all you really need to do
Is the decent thing and proper and then friends will flock to you;
But let dishonor trail you and some stormy day you'll find
To your heart's supremest sorrow that you've made the world unkind. 

Edgar Albert Guest

America

Poem for the Day:

America
by Edgar Albert Guest

God has been good to men. He gave
His Only Son their souls to save,
And then he made a second gift,
Which from their dreary lives should lift
The tyrant's yoke and set them free
From all who'd throttle liberty.
He gave America to men—
Fashioned this land we love, and then
Deep in her forests sowed the seed
Which was to serve man's earthly need.

When wisps of smoke first upwards curled
From pilgrim fires, upon the world
Unnoticed and unseen, began
God's second work of grace for man.
Here where the savage roamed and fought,
God sowed the seed of nobler thought;
Here to the land we love to claim,
The pioneers of freedom came;
Here has been cradled all that's best
In every human mind and breast.

For full four hundred years and more
Our land has stretched her welcoming shore
To weary feet from soils afar;
Soul-shackled serfs of king and czar
Have journeyed here and toiled and sung
And talked of freedom to their young,
And God above has smiled to see
This precious work of liberty,
And watched this second gift He gave
The dreary lives of men to save.

And now, when liberty's at bay,
And blood-stained tyrants force the fray,
Worn warriors, battling for the right,
Crushed by oppression's cruel might,
Hear in the dark through which they grope
America's glad cry of hope:
Man's liberty is not to die!
America is standing by!
World-wide shall human lives be free:
America has crossed the sea!

America! the land we love!
God's second gift from Heaven above,
Builded and fashioned out of truth,
Sinewed by Him with splendid youth
For that glad day when shall be furled
All tyrant flags throughout the world.
For this our banner holds the sky:
That liberty shall never die.
For this, America began:
To make a brotherhood of man. 

Edgar Albert Guest

Ambition

Poem for the Day

Ambition
by Edgar Albert Guest

If you would rise above the throng
And seek the crown of fame, 
You must do more than drift along
And merely play the game. 
Whatever path your feet may tread,
Whatever be your quest, 
The only way to get ahead
Is striving for the best.

'Tis not enough to wish to do
A day's toil fairly well;
If you would rise to glory, you
Must hunger to excel.
The boy who has the proper stuff
Goes into every test,
Not seeking to be 'good enough,'
But eager to be 'best.'

Aim high! And though you fail today
And may tomorrow fail, 
Keep pounding steadily away,
Some day you'll hit the nail.
At no half-way mark ever pause
n smug content to rest,
Who would win honor and applause
Must want to be the best.

The best must be your aim in life,
The best in sport or work,
Success in any form of strife
Falls never to the shirk.
The crowns of leadership are few,
The followers move in throngs,
If you would be a leader, you
Must shun the 'drift alongs.' 

Ecclesiastes 12:14 For God will bring every work into judgment, Including every secret thing, Whether good or evil.

Ecclesiastes 5:18 Here is what I have seen: It is good and fitting for one to eat and drink, and to enjoy the good of all his labor in which he toils under the sun all the days of his life which God gives him; for it is his heritage.
 19 As for every man to whom God has given riches and wealth, and given him power to eat of it, to receive his heritage and rejoice in his labor-this is the gift of God.

 20 For he will not dwell unduly on the days of his life, because God keeps him busy with the joy of his heart.