I’d like to be the sort of friend that you have
been to me;
I’d like to be the help that you’ve been always
glad to be;
I’d like to mean as much to you each minute
of the day
As you have meant, old friend of mine, to me
along the way.
I’d like to do the big things and the splendid
things for you,
To brush the gray from out your skies and
leave them only blue;
I’d like to say the kindly things that I so oft
have heard,
And feel that I could rouse your soul the way
that mine you’ve stirred.
I’d like to give you back the joy that you have
given me,
Yet that were wishing you a need I hope will
never be;
I’d like to make you feel as rich as I, who
travel on
Undaunted in the darkest hours with you to
lean upon.
I’m wishing at this Christmas time that I could
but repay
A portion of the gladness that you’ve strewn
along my way;
And could I have one wish this year, this only
would it be:
I’d like to be the sort of friend that you have
been to me.
Other works by Edgar Albert Guest...
