Edgar Guest
The family of Edgar Albert Guest settled in Detroit, Michigan, in 1891. When his father lost his job in 1893, eleven-year-old Edgar between working odd jobs after school. In 1895, the Detroit Free Press hired him as a copy boy, and he worked for the newspaper for almost sixty-five years. Death of the father compelled the seventeen-year-old poet to drop out high school and to work full time at the newspaper. From copy boy, he worked his way to a job in the news department. His first poem appeared on 11 December 1898. His weekly column, "Chaff," first appeared in 1904; his topical verses eventually became the daily "Breakfast Table Chat," which was syndicated to over three-hundred newspapers throughout the United States.
Guest married Nellie Crossman in 1906. The couple had three children. His brother Harry printed his first two books, Home Rhymes and Just Glad Things, in small editions. His verse quickly found an audience and the Chicago firm of Reilly and Britton began to publish his books at a rate of nearly one per year. His collections include Just Folks (1917), Over Here (1918), When Day Is Done (1921), The Passing Throng (1923), Harbor Lights of Home (1928), and Today and Tomorrow (1942).
From 1931 to 1942, Guest broadcast a weekly program on NBC radio. In 1951, "A Guest in Your Home" appeared on NBC TV. He published more than twenty volumes of poetry and was thought to have written over 11,000 poems. Guest has been called "the poet of the people." Most often, his poems were fourteen lines long and presented a deeply sentimental view of everyday life. He considered himself "a newspaper man who wrote verses." Of his poem he said, "I take simple everyday things that happen to me and I figure it happens to a lot of other people and I make simple rhymes out of them." His Collected Verse appeared in 1934 and went into at least eleven editions.
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“I'm sorry for him who cannot hear what the tall trees have to say.”
“I have to live with myself and so, I want to be fit for myself to know.”
“Somebody said it couldn't be done.But he with a chuckle replied,That maybe it couldn't, but he would be oneWho wouldn't say so 'till he'd tried.So he buckled right in with a trace of a grinOn his face. If he worried, he hid it.He started to sing as he tackled the thingThat couldn't be done. And he did.Somebody scoffed, "Oh, you'll never do thatAt least no one ever has done it."But he took off his coat, and he took off his hat,And the first thing we know, he'd begun it.With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,Without any doubting or "quit-it".He started to sing as he tackled the thingThat couldn't done. And he did it.There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done.There are thousands to prophesy failure.There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,The dangers that wait to assail youBut just buckle in, with a bit of a grin;Just take off your coat and go to it.Just start in to sing as yout tackle the thingThat cannot be done--and you'll do it!”
“A Book “Now” - said a good book unto me -“Open my pages and you shall seeJewels of wisdom and treasures fine,Gold and silver in every line,And you may claim them if you but willOpen my pages and take your fill.“Open my pages and run them o’er,Take what you choose of my golden store.Be you greedy, I shall not care -All that you seize I shall gladly spare;There is never a lock on my treasure doors,Come - here are my jewels, make them yours!“I am just a book on your mantel shelf,But I can be part of your living self;If only you’ll travel my pages through,Then I will travel the world with you.As two wines blended make better wine,Blend your mind with these truths of mine.“I’ll make you fitter to talk with men,I’ll touch with silver the lines you pen,I’ll lead you nearer the truth you seek,I’ll strengthen you when your faith grows weak -This place on your shelf is a prison cell,Let me come into your mind to dwell!”
“At ChristmasA man is at his finest towards the finish of the year;He is almost what he should be when the Christmas season's here;Then he's thinking more of others than he's thought the months before,And the laughter of his children is a joy worth toiling for.He is less a selfish creature than at any other time;When the Christmas spirit rules him he comes close to the sublime.”
“I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day; I'd rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way.”