Share:
  Guess poet | Poets | Poets timeline | Isles | Contacts

Edgar Guest - The Happiest DaysEdgar Guest - The Happiest Days
Work rating: Low


You do not know it, little man, In your summer coat of tan And your legs bereft of hose And your peeling, sunburned nose, With a stone bruise on your toe, Almost limping as you go Running on your way to play Through another summer day, Friend of birds and streams and trees, That your happiest days are these. Little do you think to-day, As you hurry to your play, That a lot of us, grown old In the chase for fame and gold, Watch you as you pass along Gayly whistling bits of song, And in envy sit and dream Of a long-neglected stream, Where long buried are the joys We possessed when we were boys. Little chap, you cannot guess All your sum of happiness; Little value do you place On your sunburned freckled face; And if some shrewd fairy came Offering sums of gold and fame For your summer days of play, You would barter them away And believe that you had made There and then a clever trade. Time was we were boys like you, Bare of foot and sunburned, too, And, like you, we never guessed All the riches we possessed; We`d have traded them back then For the hollow joys of men; We`d have given them all to be Rich and wise and forty-three. For life never teaches boys Just how precious are their joys. Youth has fled and we are old. Some of us have fame and gold; Some of us are sorely scarred, For the way of age is hard; And we envy, little man, You your splendid coat of tan, Envy you your treasures rare, Hours of joy beyond compare; For we know, by teaching stern, All that some day you must learn.
Source

The script ran 0.001 seconds.