Results and Roses
by Edgar A. Guest
The man who wants a garden fair,
Or small or very big,
With flowers growing here and there,
Must bend his back and dig.
The things are mighty few on earth
That wishes can attain.
Whate’er we want of any worth
We’ve got to work to gain.
It matters not what goal you seek
Its secret here reposes:
You’ve got to dig from week to week
To get Results or Roses.
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Insect World
by Edgar A. Guest
We know so little. That whene’er I pass
I think I hear faint whisperings in the grass
From tiny creatures I can scarcely see
Out of their wisdom making fun of me.
Theirs is a world in which I cannot go,
A knowledge never given me to know.
Theirs is a purpose, baffling unto man,
And yet the ants appear to have a plan.
Earth is their home and I am sure they find
Charms and delights to which man’s eyes are blind.
Ants no doubt wonder why men never stay
To gaze on tiny splendors, just as they.
Nor do I think they envy us at all,
But count it God’s best blessing to be small,
For they possess within a patch of grass
A world of beauty mortals blindly pass.
Tulips
By Edgar A Guest
The tulips are in bloom again,
As every passer-by can see –
A lovely sight of read and white
And bronze and purple pageantry.
Braver warriors of hope are they
Who nod and sway beneath the sun
And seem to say, “Let come what may,
Our duty here once more we’ve done.”
“We shall not see the roses bloom
Nor long outlive the breath of spring
But brave of heart we play our part,
Each one of us a lovely thing.
“What if in two brief weeks we pale
And to the changing season bow,
And row by row to death we go?
We have our share of glory now.
“Gaze on us, weary passer-by,
Enjoy our beauty while you may,
And like us give, the while you live,
Your utmost best to every day.”
We’re getting back our confidence! We’re coming out of gloom!
We’re working in the gardens where the flowers of summer bloom!
We’ve had our fit of dreading, and we’re on the road again
To the better days before us and the old-time faith in men.
We’re getting back our courage! We have struggled and we’ve failed.
We have seen our treasures vanish; we’ve been bitterly assailed;
But our heads are high this morning and in field and shop and mart
There is good old rugged honor, with the brave old fighting heart.
We’re getting back our mettle; you can sense it everywhere.
There’s a surging of the spirit ‘gainst the sweeping tide of care.
Now we’re done with dismal doubting, on the high road and the low
Men are working for the future with the faith of long ago.
