Top 15 Edgar Guest Quotes

She wasn't hungry, so she said. A salad and a cup of tea
Was all she felt that she could eat, but it was different
with me.
"I'm rather hungry," I replied: "if you don't mind, I think
I'll take
Some oysters to begin with and a good old-fashioned
sirloin steak."<p>Now wives are curious in this; to make the statement blunt
and straight,
There's nothing tempts their appetites like food upon
another's plate;
And when those oysters six appeared she looked at them
and said to me,
"Just let me try one, will you, dear?" and right away she
swallowed three.

Now you've all the equipment the greatest possess,
And some men have risen to glory with less,
So don't be afraid, but go to it;
If it's honest, and useful, and ought to be done,
Don't think it beneath you, but jump in, my son -
Go straight to your duty and do it.

Stick to it, boy,
Through the thick and the thin of it!
Work for the joy
That is born of the din of it.
Failures beset you,
But don't let them fret you;
Dangers are lurking,
But just keep on working.
If it's worthwhile and you're sure of the right of it,
Stick to it, boy, and make a real fight of it!

It was thick with Prussian troopers, it was foul
with German guns;
Every tree that cast a shadow was a sheltering
place for Huns.
Death was guarding every roadway, death was watching
every field,
And behind each rise of terrain was a rapid-fire concealed;
Uncle Sam's Marines had orders: "Drive the Boche
from where they're hid.
For the honor of Old Glory, take the woods!" And
so they did.

Who's dat knockin' at de do',
Who's dat callin' here ter-day?
What yo' want to see me fo'?
Tell me what yo' got to say.
What yo' name an' what yo' mean,
Standin' out there in de gloam?
Trouble, waitin' to come in?
No sir, no sir, I ain't home!

Where is the road to Arcady,
Where is the path that leads to peace,
Where shall I find the bliss to be,
Where shall the weary wanderings cease?
These are the questions that come to me - Where is the road to Arcady?

I did not stop to ask the lad his little tale to tell,
There was no need of that because I knew the story well - "She never gave a chance to me!" that sentence held it all.
A hundred times I'd lived the scene in days when I was small,
A broken rule, a teacher vexed, hot rage where calm belonged,
A guilty judgment blindly made - a youngster sadly wronged.<p>I still can see that little chap upon his homeward way,
"She never gave a chance to me," I still can hear him say,
And so I write this verse for him, and all the girls and boys
Who shall their tutors now and then disturb with needless noise.
Be fair, you teachers of our land, in every circumstance;
Don't let some little fellow say he never had a chance.

"It's not exactly to my best
But it may pass the final test;
And should it break, no man can know
It was my hand that made it so.
The thing is faulty, but perhaps
We'll never hear it when it snaps."<p>Of course the workman couldn't see
The mangled car beneath the tree,
The dead man, and the tortured wife
Doomed to a cripple's chair for life –
His chief concern was getting by
The stern inspector's eager eye.

Now a bit of praise isn't much to give,
But it's dear to the hearts of all who live;
And there's never a man on this good old earth
But is glad to be told that he's been of worth;
And a kindly word when the work is fair
Is welcomed and wanted everywhere.

Oh, youth, go forth and do!
You, too, to fame may rise;
You can be strong and wise.
Stand up to life and play the man —
You can if you'll but think you can;
The great were once as you.
You envy them their proud success?
'Twas won with gifts that you possess.

Are you one of the nine who pass men by
In this hasty life we live?
Do you refuse with a downcast eye
The help which you could give?
Or are you the one in ten whose creed
Is always to stop for the man in need?

He brought me his report card from the teacher and he said
He wasn't very proud of it and sadly bowed his head.
He was excellent in reading, but arithmetic, was fair,
And I noticed there were several "unsatisfactorys" there;
But one little bit of credit which was given brought me joy —
He was "excellent in effort," and I fairly hugged the boy.

You're pretty low down," says I to him,
"But nobody's holding you there, my friend.
Life is a stream where men sink or swim,
And the drifters come to a sorry end;
But there's two of you living and breathing still —
The fellow you are, and he's tough to see,
And another chap, if you've got the will,
The man that you still have a chance to be.

Changin' laws an' legislatures ain't, as fur as I can see,
Goin' to make this world much better, unless somehow we can
Find a way to make a better an' a finer sort o' man.
The trouble ain't with statutes or with systems—not at all;
It's with humans jus' like we [are] an' their petty ways an' small.
We could stop our writin' law-books an' our regulatin' rules
If a better sort of manhood was the product of our schools.
For the things that we air needin' isn't writin' from a pen
Or bigger guns to shoot with, but a bigger type of men.

The difference 'twixt good and bad is not so very much,
A few more minutes at the task, an extra turn or touch,
A final test that all is right—and yet the men are few
Who seem to think it worth their while these extra things to do.