When Day is Done

The Project Gutenberg EBook of When Day is Done, by Edgar A. Guest

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Title: When Day is Done

Author: Edgar A. Guest

Release Date: December 14, 2003 [EBook #10460]

Language: English

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WHEN DAY IS DONE

by

EDGAR A. GUEST

1921

To

S.H.D.

A real friend who never knows when day is done

INDEX

Age of Ink, The

All for the Best

Always Saying Don't!

Autumn Evenings

Aw Gee Whiz!

Bedtime

Better Job, The

Bob White

Book of Memory. The

Boy and His Dad, A

Boy and His Dog, A

Boy and His Stomach, A

Boy and the Flag, The

Boy O'Mine

Brothers All

Call of the Woods, The

Carry On

Castor Oil

Chip on Your Shoulder, The

Christmas Carol, A

Christmas Gift for Mother, The

Cleaning the Furnace

Committee Meetings

Contradictin' Joe

Cookie Jar, The

Couldn't Live Without You

Cure for Weariness, The

Dan McGann Declares Himself

Deeds of Anger, The

Family Row, A

Father's Wish, A

Feller's Hat, A

Fellowship of Books, The

Forgotten Boyhood

God Made This Day for Me

Golf Luck

Good Little Boy, The

Grate Fire, The

Green Apple Time

Happy Man, The

He's Taken Out His Papers

Home and the Office

Homely Man, The

How Do You Buy Your Money?

I Ain't Dead Yet

I'd Rather Be a Failure

If I Had Youth

If This Were All

Joys of Home, The

Joys We Miss, The

Just a Boy

Kick Under the Table, The

Leader of the Gang

Learn to Smile

Life Is What We Make It

Life's Single Standard

Little Girls Are Best

Little Wrangles

Lonely

Looking Back

Loss Is Not So Great, The

Lucky Man, The

Ma and the Ouija Board

Making of Friends, The

Memorial Day

Mother's Day

My Religion

No Better Land Than This

No Children!

No Room for Hate

Nothing to Laugh At

No Use Sighin'

Old Mister Laughter

Old Years and New

Pa and the Monthly Bills

Peaks of Valor, The

Practicing Time

Pretending Not to See

Safe at Home

Satisfied With Life

She Mothered Five

She Powders Her Nose

Simple' Things, The

Sittin' on the Porch

Song of the Builder, The

Spoiler, The

Summer Dreams

Things You Can't Forget, The

Three Me's, The

To a Little Girl

To an Old Friend

Too Big a Price

Trouble Brings Friends

True Man, The

Vanished Joy, A

Wait Till Your Pa Comes Home

We're Dreamers All

What Home's Intended For

What I Call Living

What Is Success?

What Makes an Artist

What We Need

When Day Is Done

When Friends Drop In

When Ma Wants Something New

When Mother's Sewing Buttons On

When Sorrow Comes

When The Minister Calls

When We Play the Fool

When We're All Alike

When We Understand the Plan

Where Children Play

Where's Mamma?

Wide Outdoors, The

Willing Horse, The

With Dog and Gun

World and Bud, The

When Day Is Done

When day is done and the night slips down,

And I've turned my back on the busy town,

And come once more to the welcome gate

Where the roses nod and the children wait,

I tell myself as I see them smile

That life is good and its tasks worth while.

When day is done and I've come once more

To my quiet street and the friendly door,

Where the Mother reigns and the children play

And the kettle sings in the old-time way,

I throw my coat on a near-by chair

And say farewell to my pack of care.

When day is done, all the hurt and strife

And the selfishness and the greed of life,

Are left behind in the busy town;

I've ceased to worry about renown

Or gold or fame, and I'm just a dad,

Content to be with his girl and lad.

Whatever the day has brought of care,

Here love and laughter are mine to share,

Here I can claim what the rich desire—

Rest and peace by a ruddy fire,

The welcome words which the loved ones speak

And the soft caress of a baby's cheek.

When day is done and I reach my gate,

I come to a realm where there is no hate,

For here, whatever my worth may be,

Are those who cling to their faith in me;

And with love on guard at my humble door,

I have all that the world has struggled for.

The Simple Things

I would not be too wise—so very wise

  That I must sneer at simple songs and creeds,

And let the glare of wisdom blind my eyes

  To humble people and their humble needs.

I would not care to climb so high that I

  Could never hear the children at their play,

Could only see the people passing by,

  And never hear the cheering words they say.

I would not know too much—too much to smile

  At trivial errors of the heart and hand,

Nor be too proud to play the friend the while,

  Nor cease to help and know and understand.

I would not care to sit upon a throne,

  Or build my house upon a mountain-top,

Where I must dwell in glory all alone

  And never friend come in or poor man stop.

God grant that I may live upon this earth

  And face the tasks which every morning brings

And never lose the glory and the worth

  Of humble service and the simple things.

Life Is What We Make It

Life is a jest;

  Take the delight of it.

Laughter is best;

  Sing through the night of it.

Swiftly the tear

  And the hurt and the ache of it

Find us down here;

  Life must be what we make of it.

Life is a song;

  Dance to the thrill of it.

Grief's hours are long,

  And cold is the chill of it.

Joy is man's need;

  Let us smile for the sake of it.

This be our creed:

  Life must be what we make of it.

Life is a soul;

  The virtue and vice of it,

Strife for a goal,

  And man's strength is the price of it.

Your life and mine,

  The bare bread and the cake of it

End in this line:

  Life must be what we make of it.

What We Need

We were settin' there an' smokin' of our pipes, discussin' things,

Like licker, votes for wimmin, an' the totterin'thrones o' kings,

When he ups an' strokes his whiskers with his hand an' says t'me:

"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 jest like we air 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' ain't no writin' from a pen

Or bigger guns to shoot with, but a bigger typeof men.

"I reckon all these problems air jest ornery like the weeds.

They grow in soil that oughta nourish only decent deeds,

An' they waste our time an' fret us when, if we were thinkin' straight

An' livin' right, they wouldn't be so terrible an' great.

A good horse needs no snaffle, an' a good man, I opine,

Doesn't need a law to check him or to force him into line.

"If we ever start in teachin' to our children, year by year,

How to live with one another, there'll be less o' trouble here.

If we'd teach 'em how to neighbor an' to walk in honor's ways,

We could settle every problem which the mind o' man can raise.

What we're needin' isn't systems or some regulatin' plan,

But a bigger an' a finer an' a truer type o' man."

A Boy and His Dad

A boy and his dad on a fishing-trip—

There is a glorious fellowship!

Father and son and the open sky

And the white clouds lazily drifting by,

And the laughing stream as it runs along

With the clicking reel like a martial song,

And the father teaching the youngster gay

How to land a fish in the sportsman's way.

I fancy I hear them talking there

In an open boat, and the speech is fair;

And the boy is learning the ways of men

From the finest man in his youthful ken.

Kings, to the youngster, cannot compare

With the gentle father who's with him there.

And the greatest mind of the human race

Not for one minute