Edgar Albert Guest

There is sorrow in the household;
There's a grief too hard to bear;
There's a little cheek that's
There's a sobbing baby there

The world is full of gladness, There are joys of many kinds,
There's a cure for every sadness, That each troubled mortal finds
And my little cares grow lighter And I cease to fret and sigh,
And my eyes with joy grow brighter When sh...

Can't is the worst word that's written or spoken;
Doing more harm here than slander and lies;
On it is many a strong spirit broken,
And with it many a good purpose dies

The finest tribute we can
Unto our hero dead to-day,
Is not a rose wreath, white and red,
In memory of the blood they shed;

My grandpa is the finest
Excep' my pa
My grandpa
Make kites an' carts an' lots of

Figure it out for yourself, my lad,
You've all that the greatest of men have had,
Two arms, two hands, two legs, two eyes,
And a brain to use if you would be wise

Never a sigh for the cares that she bore for me Never a thought of the joys that flew by;
Her one regret that she couldn't do more for me, Thoughtless and selfish, her Master was I
Oh, the long nights that she came at my call to me
...

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 the care and doubt,

He was just a small church parson when the war broke out, and
Looked and dressed and acted like all parsons that we see
He wore the cleric's broadcloth and he hooked his vest behind,
But he had a man's religion and he had a strong m...

I stood and watched him playing,    A little lad of three,
And back to me came straying    The years that used to be;
In him the boy was Maying    Who once belonged to me
The selfsame brown his eyes were    As those that once I knew;

My father knows the proper way The nation should be run;
He tells us children every day Just what should now be done
He knows the way to fix the trusts, He has a simple plan;
But if the furnace needs repairs, We have to hire a man...

'Twas not so many years ago,
Say, twenty-two or three,
When zero weather or below Held many a thrill for me
Then in my icy room I slept A youngster's sweet repose,