From the Omaha Daily Bee, May 2, 1913. By Edgar A. Guest. I watched them playing kissing games And chuckled to myself As I recalled the days before Time put me on the shelf. I watched that roguish lad of mine Salute each pretty miss With all the gusto that I showed When I was wont to kiss. But I am on the sidelines now And he is in the game And he is hugging pretty girls With eyes and cheeks aflame. And there’s no special one to pout Or raise a fuss when he Distributes his affections thus The way there is with me. What though he kiss a dozen maids And give them all a squeeze, Nobody sternly says to him: “What means this conduct, please?” Nobody stamps a pretty foot At him or starts to cry But this will come, when these glad years Of youth have wandered by. “Just like his dad,” I hear her say, And note her gentle smile; And I retort, “This freedom will But last a little while. Perhaps one of these lassies sweet Will some day rule his life And yet I hope, that like his dad He’ll choose as good a wife.”
Tag: Edgar A. Guest
-
Kissing Games
-
Courage
From the New York Tribune, October 15, 1912. By Edgar A. Guest. Discouraged, eh? The world looks dark, And all your hopes have gone astray; Your finest shots have missed the mark, You’re heartsick and discouraged, eh? Plans that you built from all went wrong, You cannot seem to find the way And it seems vain to plod along, You’re heartsick and discouraged, eh? Take heart! Each morning starts anew, Return unto the battle line; Against far greater odds than you Brave men have fought with courage fine. Despite the buffetings of fate, They’ve risen, time and time again, To stand, face front and shoulders straight As leaders of their fellow men. And you, now blinded by despair, Heartsick and weary of the fight, On every hand beset by care, Can, if you will, attain the light.