A FEW OF MY FAVORITE POEMS




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IT COULDN'T BE DONE
Edgar A. Guest


Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one
who wouldn't say no till he'd tried.


So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
on his face. If he worried, he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never to that;
"At least no one has done it";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew, he'd begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be 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 you

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing
That "cannot be done," and you'll do it!




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THINGS WORK OUT
Edgar A. Guest


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 care an doubt,
It seems at the last that things work out.


Because we lose where we hoped to gain,
Because we suffer a little pain,
Because we must work when we'd like to play-
Some of us whimper along life's way.
But somehow, as day always follow the night,
Most of our troubles work out all right.


Because we cannot forever smile,
Because we must trudge in the dust awhile,
Because we think that the way is long-
Some of us whimper that life's all wrong.
But somehow we live and our sky grows bright,
And everything seems to work out all right.


So bend to your touble and meet your care,
For the clouds must break, and the sky grow fair.
Let the rain come down, as it must and will,
But keep on working and hoping still.
For in spite of the grumblers who stand about,
Somehow, it seems, all things work out.



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WEARINESS
Edgar A. Guest


God set him in a garden fair
Where tulips bloomed each spring;
About him always everywhere
Was many a lovely thing,
With miracle and mystery
His every day was filled,
And yet he only seemed to see
The structures mortals build.


He knew the stars were overhead,
But seldom raised his eyes,
The paths of life he chose to tread,
A stranger to the skies.
From youth to manhood, then to age,
He plunged his spirit deep
In figures on the ledger page,
Correct accountants keep.


He never learned the names of flowers,
Or birds or friendly trees,
In all his busy wakeful hours
He never heard the breeze
Enticing him with bits of song
To let a day go by
To watch a brooklet race along
Or gaze upon the sky.


God set him in a garden fair
With countless splenders strewn
But all he saw while walking there
Was stone some man had hewn
And all he talked was loss and gain
And cold commercial strife
Which makes it easy to explain
How he grew tired of life.


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More favorite poems soon......please put yours in my Guestbook.


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