Edgar Albert Guest: Все стихи поэта

Все стихи Оригиналы Переводы

1 2 3 4 5 › »

Life

Life is a gift to be used every day,

Not to be smothered and hidden away;

It isn't a thing to be stored in the chest

Where you gather your keepsakes and treasure your best;

It isn't a joy to be sipped now and then

And promptly put back in a dark place again.

Life is a gift that the humblest may boast of

And one that the humblest may well make the most of.

by Edgar Albert Guest

The Sorry Hostess

She said she was sorry the weather was bad

The night that she asked us to dine;

And she really appeared inexpressibly sad

Because she had hoped 'twould be fine.

She was sorry to hear that my wife had a cold,

And she almost shed tears over that,

And how sorry she was, she most feelingly told,

That the steam wasn't on in the flat.

by Edgar Albert Guest

Sermons We See

I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day;

I'd rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way.

The eye's a better pupil and more willing than the ear,

Fine counsel is confusing, but example's always clear;

And the best of all the preachers are the men who live their creeds,

For to see good put in action is what everybody needs.

I soon can learn to do it if you'll let me see it done;

I can watch your hands in action, but your tongue too fast may run.

by Edgar Albert Guest

Mother

Never a sigh for the cares that she bore for me

Never a thought of the joys that flew by;

Her one regret that she couldn't do more for me,

Thoughtless and selfish, her Master was I.

Oh, the long nights that she came at my call to me!

Oh, the soft touch of her hands on my brow!

Oh, the long years that she gave up her all to me!

Oh, how I yearn for her gentleness now!

by Edgar Albert Guest

James Whitcomb Riley

There must be great rejoicin'

on the Golden Shore to-day,

An' the big an' little angels

must be feelin' mighty gay:

Could we look beyond the curtain now

I fancy we should see

Old Aunt Mary waitin', smilin',

for the coming that's to be,

by Edgar Albert Guest

Heroes

There are different kinds of heroes, there are some you hear about.

They get their pictures printed, and their names the newsboys shout;

There are heroes known to glory that were not afraid to die

In the service of their country and to keep the flag on high;

There are brave men in the trenches, there are brave men on the sea,

But the silent, quiet heroes also prove their bravery.

I am thinking of a hero that was never known to fame,

Just a manly little fellow with a very common name;

by Edgar Albert Guest

Faith

This much I know:

God does not wrong us here,

Though oft His judgments seem severe

And reason falters 'neath the blow,

Some day we'll learn 'twas better so.

So oft I've erred

In trifling matters of my own concern;

So oft I've blundered at the simplest turn,

by Edgar Albert Guest

Things Work Out

Because it rains when we wish it wouldn't,

Because men do what they often shouldn't,

Because crops fail, and plans go wrong-

Some of us grumble all day long.

But somehow, in spite of the care and doubt,

It seems at last that things work out.

Because we lose where we hoped to gain,

Because we suffer a little pain,

by Edgar Albert Guest

Memorial Day

The finest tribute we can pay

Unto our hero dead to-day,

Is not a rose wreath, white and red,

In memory of the blood they shed;

It is to stand beside each mound,

Each couch of consecrated ground,

And pledge ourselves as warriors true

Unto the work they died to do.

by Edgar Albert Guest

A Father's Prayer

Lord, make me tolerant and wise;

Incline my ears to hear him through;

Let him not stand with downcast eyes,

Fearing to trust me and be true.

Instruct me so that I may know

The way my son and I should go.

When he shall err, as once did I,

Or boyhood folly bids him stray,

by Edgar Albert Guest

When Father Shook The Stove

'Twas not so many years ago,

Say, twenty-two or three,

When zero weather or below

Held many a thrill for me.

Then in my icy room I slept

A youngster's sweet repose,

And always on my form I kept

My flannel underclothes.

by Edgar Albert Guest

Father

My father knows the proper way

The nation should be run;

He tells us children every day

Just what should now be done.

He knows the way to fix the trusts,

He has a simple plan;

But if the furnace needs repairs,

We have to hire a man.

by Edgar Albert Guest