An Edgar A. Guest poem for the holiday

THE BOY AND THE FLAG

Edgar A Guest

I want my boy to love his home,

His Mother, yes, and me:

I want him, wheresoe'er he'll roam,

With us in thought to be.

I want him to love what is fine,

Nor let his standards drag,

But, Oh! I want that boy of mine

To love his country's flag!

I want him when he older grows

To love all things of earth;

And Oh! I want him, when he knows,

To choose the things of worth.

I want him to the heights to climb

Nor let ambition lag;

But, Oh! I want him all the time

To love his country's flag.

I want my boy to know the best,

I want him to be great;

I want him in Life's distant West,

Prepared for any fate.

I want him to be simple, too,

Though clever, ne'er to brag,

But, Oh! I want him, through and through,

To love his country's flag.

I want my boy to be a man,

And yet, in distant years,

I pray that he'll have eyes that can

Not quite keep back the tears

When, coming from some foreign shore

And alien scenes that gag,

Borne on its native breeze, once more

He sees his country's flag.

From Collected verse of EDGAR A. GUEST, published 1934 by Contemporary Books, Inc.

POEMS FOR LABOR DAY: William Carlos Williams & Edgar A Guest

Whatever way to labor--professionally or DIY

 

FINE WORK WITH PITCH AND COPPER

by William Carlos Williams

 

Now they are resting

in the fleckless light

separately in unison

 

like the sacks

of sifted stone stacked

regularly by twos

 

about the flat roof

ready after lunch

to be opened and strewn

 

The copper in eight

foot strips has been

beaten lengthwise

 

down the center at right

angles and lies ready

to edge the coping

 

One still chewing

picks up a copper strip

and runs his eye along it

 

--from Selected Poems

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THE BETTER JOB

by Edgar A. Guest

 

If I were running a factory

I'd stick up a sign for all to see;

I'd print it large and I'd nail it high

On every wall that the men walked by;

And I'd have it carry this sentence clear:

"The 'better job' that you want is here!"

 

It's the common trait of the human race

To pack up and roam from place to place;

Men have done it for ages and do it now;

Seeking to better themselves somehow

They quit their posts and their tools they drop

For a better job in another shop.

 

It may be I'm wrong, but I hold to this--

That something surely must be amiss

When a man worth while must move away

For the better job with the better pay;

And something is false in our own renown

When men can think of a better town.

 

So if I were running a factory

I'd stick up this sign for all to see,

Which never an eye in the plac could miss:

"There isn't a better town than this!

You need not go wandering, far or near--

The 'better job' that you want is here!"

 

--from Collected verse of Edgar A. Guest

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