Hand in Hand

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is SERENITY

My firs thought was about the Prayer of Serenity we often see on wall mottos and such. It’s a terse but profound statement: if we could just accept some things that can’t be changed, then get with it and change thing we know we could change — how much better this old world would be! And then the crowning touch: the WISDOM to know the difference!

But my response will be this homey little verse by Edgar Guest. For those of us who’ve crossed the bridge into ‘Seniors’, I think this illustrates serenity very nicely:

Hand in Hand

All the way to age we'll go
hand in hand together;
all the way to brows of snow
through every sort of weather.
Rain or shine, blue sky or gray,
joy and sorrow sharing
hand in hand along the way
we'll go bravely faring.

All the way to sunset land
we'll walk down together
side by side and hand in hand
held by Cupid's tether.
Once we danced in early May
steps we'll long remember;
so we'll trip the miles away
even to December.

Let the years go fleeting by!
Gray old age shall find us
still recalling smile and sigh
long since left behind us.
And though feeble we may grow,
worn by wind and weather,
all the way to Age we'll go
hand in hand together.

From his book, Collected Verse of Edgar A Guest
© 1934 by The Reilly & Lee Company

 

 

 

Block-Ed + Poetry–A Trial Run

I won't let Block-Ed frustrate me
I'll practice 'til I'm proficient
So here's a bit of poetry
to see if I've learned sufficient...

I see that Sheryl at Your Daily Word Prompt 
is having her trials switching to the new Block editor,
too. Her word for today is FRUSTRATE.
A CHOICE
by Edgar Guest

Sure, they get stubborn at times;
they worry and fret us a lot,
but I'd rather be crossed by a glad little boy
and frequently worried than not.
There are hours when they get on my nerves
and set my poor brain all a-whirl, 
but I'd rather be troubled that way than to be
the man who has no little girl.

There are time's they're a nuisance, that's true
with all of their racket and noise,
but I'd rather my personal pleasures be lost
than to give up my girls and my boys.
Not always they're perfectly good;
there are times when they're wilfully bad
but I'd rather be worried by youngsters of mine
than lonely and childless and sad.

So I try to be patient and calm
whenever they're having their fling,
for the sum of their laughter and love
is more than the worry they bring.
And each night when sweet peace settles down
and I see them asleep in their cot,
I chuckle and say: "They upset me today,
but I'd rather be that way than not."

From his book, Collected Verse of Edgar A Guest
© 1934 by The Reilly & Lee Company

Conclusions:
Selecting the Verse block and writing poetry works better with this editor, since single line spacing is automatic; I don’t have to hit Shift + Enter to get that, like I would otherwise. On the other hand, I now have to count Categories & Tags to be sure I don’t exceed the WordPress limit of fifteen. And poetry is automatically italicized.

PS: Now that this is posted I see I’m not so proficient after all! 😦
Now, how to fix it!

Money’s Important, But…

Money

by Edgar Guest

Money.CharlesThompsonDoes money bring men gladness?
Yes, at times!
It also brings men sadness
and to crimes.

Earned well, it is a pleasure,
none denies;
but in the love of treasure
danger lies.

Who grasps for it in blindness,
foul or fair,
sells out to bleak unkindness
and despair.

By money friends are parted;
hatred sown;
for money, marble-hearted
men have grown.

Money’s important. All require it
til life is o’er
but it destroys men who desire it
and nothing more.

From his book, Collected Verse of Edgar A Guest
© 1934 by The Reilly & Lee Company

No Place To Go

Today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt word is FERNWEH, which apparently means a longing for far-away places, or wanderlust.

Once upon a time, when we were younger, we did travel some — though never to anyplace all that exotic. We’ve visited or lived in almost every province and visited friends in a number of eastern states. But our wandering days are over now. Our own office is our comfortable work space and our own pillows feel the best. I don’t even like going away from home on dark winter nights, so I know where Edgar Guest was coming from when he wrote this verse:

No Place to Go

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The happiest nights I ever know
are those when I’ve no place to go,
and the missus says when the day is through,
“Tonight we haven’t a thing to do.

Oh, the joy of it– and the peace untold
of sitting ‘round in my slippers old,
with my pipe and book in my easy chair,
knowing I needn’t go anywhere.

Needn’t hurry my evening meal
nor force the smiles I do not feel,
but can grab a book from a nearby shelf,
drop all sham and be myself.

Oh, the charm of it and the comfort rare;
nothing on earth that can compare!
And I’m sorry for him who doesn’t know
the joy of having no place to go.

By Edgar A Guest

(Image: Jill Wellington  —  Pixabay)

The Little Home

by Edgar Guest

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Image: Pexels  — Pixabay

The little house is not too small
to shelter friends who come to call.
Though low the roof and small its space
it holds the Lord’s abounding grace
and every simple room may be
endowed with happy memory.

The little house, severely plain,
a wealth of beauty may contain.
Within it those who dwell may find
high faith which makes for peace of mind
and that sweet understanding which
can make the poorest cottage rich.

The little house can hold all things
from which the soul’s contentment springs.
It’s not too small for love to grow,
for all the joys that mortals know,
for mirth and song and that delight
which makes the humblest dwelling bright.

From the book, Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest,
©1934 by the Reilly & Lee Co

 

Nothing to Laugh At

The Ragtag Daily Prompt today is PROTEST

For my response I’ll give you the first two verses of this four-verse epic by Edgar Guest.

NOTHING TO LAUGH AT

‘Taint nothin’ to laugh at as I can see!
If you’d been stung by a bumble bee
an’ your nose was swelled an’ it smarted, too,
you wouldn’t want people to laugh at you.
If you had a lump that was full of fire,
like you’d been touched by a red hot wire
an’ your nose spread out like a load of hay,
you wouldn’t want strangers who come your way
to ask you to let the see the place
an’ laugh at you right before your face.

What’s funny about it, I’d like to know?
It isn’t a joke to be hurted so!
An’ how was I ever on earth to tell
that the pretty flower which I stooped to smell
in our backyard was the very one
which a bee was busily working on?
An’ just as I got my nose down there
he lifted his foot an’ kicked for fair,
an’ he planted his stinger right into me
But it’s nothin’ to laugh at as I can see.

😦

From his book, The Collected Works of Edgar A Guest
© 1934 by the Reilly & Lee Company