To the Boy, di Edgar Albert Guest

Edgar Albert Guest

To the Boy

I have no wish, my little lad,

To climb the towering heights of fame.

I am content to be your dad

And share with you each pleasant game.

I am content to hold your hand

And walk along life’s path with you,

And talk of things we understand–

The birds and trees and skies of blue.

Though some may seek the smiles of kings,

For me your laughter’s joy enough;

I have no wish to claim the things

Which lure men into pathways rough.

I’m happiest when you and I,

Unmindful of life’s bitter cares,

Together watch the clouds drift by,

Or follow boyhood’s thoroughfares.

I crave no more of life than this:

Continuance of such a trust;

Your smile, whate’er the morning is,

Until my clay returns to dust.

If but this comradeship may last

Until I end my earthly task–

Your hand and mine by love held fast–

Fame has no charm for which I’d ask.

I would not trade one day with you

To wear the purple robes of power,

Nor drop your hand from mine to do

Some great deed in a selfish hour.

For you have brought me joy serene

And made my soul supremely glad.

In life rewarded I have been;

’Twas all worth while to be your dad.

#1919 #EnglishWriters #ThePathToHome

Altre opere di Edgar Albert Guest...

Ma and the Auto

Before we take an auto ride Pa sa… Now just remember I don’t need su… If you will just sit still back th… I’ll take you where you want to go… Remember that my hearing’s good an…

Young Mother Gazing at Her Child, by William-Adolphe Bouguereau

Mother and the Baby

Mother and the baby! Oh, I know n… For all the dreams of all the worl… And be the baby in his cot or nest… The picture they present is one wi… Mother and the baby—and the mother…

Roses and Sunshine

Rough is the road I am journeying… Heavy the burden I’m bearing to-d… But I’m humming a song, as I wand… And I smile at the roses that nod… Red roses sweet,

The Broken Drum

There is sorrow in the household; There’s a grief too hard to bear; There’s a little cheek that’s tear… There’s a sobbing baby there. And try how we will to comfort,

The Little Old-Fashioned Church

THE little old-fashioned church,… Where the sunbeams to worship came… And the choir was composed of the… The little old-fashioned church th… With its plain, wooden cross on th…

When Mother Made an Angel Cake

When mother baked an angel cake we… An’ watch her gentle hands at work… We’d watch her stir the eggs an’ f… An’ pour it in the crinkled tin, a… She’d spread the icing over it, an…

Roses and Gasoline

‘A rose by any other name would sm… Cried Romeo once, and truth he sp… And we should smell the autos down… Though gasoline were labeled Fren…

Safe at Home

Let the old fire blaze An’ the youngsters shout An’ the dog on the rug Sprawl full length out, An’ Mother an’ I

A Woman’s Ways

IT ‘S human for a woman To enjoy a little cry; Though a man will grin and bear ’e… And pass little troubles by, A woman seeks a pillow

Little Feet

There is no music quite so sweet As patter of a baby’s feet. Who never hears along the hall The sound of tiny feet that fall Upon the floor so soft and low

Loafing

Under the shade of trees, Flat on my back at ease, Lulled by the hum of bees, There’s where I rest; Breathing the scented air,

Endurance

YOU never hear a woman boast Of her endurance, yet I vow The tiniest mite o’ a woman has More courage than a man, somehow. Lor’ bless me, when I hear a man

The Fellowship of Books

I care not who the man may be, Nor how his tasks may fret him, Nor where he fares, nor how his ca… And troubles may beset him, If books have won the love of him,

Dreaming

JUST now I think I 'd like to be At the river’s brink Beneath a tree, And stretched out flat

The Cure for Weariness

Seemed like I couldn’t stand it a… The factory whistles blowin’ day b… An’ men an’ children hurryin’ by t… An’ street cars clangin’ on their… The faces of the people seemed to…

Edgar Albert Guest

To the Boy

Condividere

Altre opere di Edgar Albert Guest...