How Is Your “Tomorrow” Shaping Up?

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                       Tomorrow

He was going to be all that a mortal should be
      tomorrow.
No one should be kinder or braver than he
      tomorrow.
A friend who was troubled and weary he knew,
who’d be glad of a lift and who needed it, too;
on him he would call and see what he could do
      tomorrow.
Each morning he stacked up the letters he’d write
      tomorrow.
And thought of the folks he would fill with delight
      tomorrow.
It was too bad, indeed, he was busy today,
and hadn’t a minute to stop on his way;
more time he would have to give others, he’d say
      tomorrow.
The greatest of workers this man would have been
      tomorrow.
The world would have known him, had he ever seen
      tomorrow.
But the fact is he died and he faded from view,
and all that he left here when living was through
was a mountain of things he intended to do
      tomorrow.
                                                  —Edgar Guest

 

One More Tomorrow

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The Day’s Work
Is anybody happier because you passed his way?
Does any one remember that you spoke to him today?
The day is almost over, and its toiling time is through.
Is there any one to utter now a kindly word of you?
Did you give a cheerful greeting to the friend who came along,
Or a churlish sort of “howdy” and then vanish in the throng?
Were you selfish, pure and simple, as you rushed along the way,
Or is someone mighty grateful for a deed you did today?
Can you say tonight in parting, with the day that’s slipping fast,
That you helped a single brother, of the many that you passed?
Is a single heart rejoicing over what you did or said?
Does a man whose hopes were fading, now with courage look ahead?
Did you waste the day, or lose it?  Was it well or sorely spent?
Did you leave a trail of kindness, or a scar of discontent?
As you close your eyes in slumber, do you think that God would say,
You have earned one more tomorrow by the work you did today?
                                                           —Edgar Guest

 photo credit: unknown

Life Is A Gift

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                                                              LIFE
Life is a gift to be used every day, not to be smothered and hidden away. It isn’t a thing to be stored in the chest where you gather your keepsakes and treasure your best. It isn’t a joy to be sipped now and then, and promptly put back in a dark place again. Life is a gift that the humblest may boast of, and one that the humblest may well make the most of. Get out and live it each hour of the day, wear it and use it as much as you may. Don’t keep it in niches and corners and grooves, you’ll find that in service its beauty improves.   —Edgar Guest 

Myself

     Edgar Guest – Journalist, Poet

I want to be fit for myself to know.
I want to be able as days go by,
always to look myself straight in the eye;
I don’t want to stand with the setting sun
and hate myself for the things I have done.
I don’t want to keep on a closet shelf
a lot of secrets about myself
and fool myself as I come and go
into thinking no one else will ever know
the kind of person I really am,
I don’t want to dress up myself in sham.
I want to go out with my head erect
I want to deserve all men’s respect;
but here in the struggle for fame and wealth
I want to be able to like myself.
I don’t want to look at myself and know that
I am bluster and bluff and empty show.
I never can hide myself from me;
I see what others may never see;
I know what others may never know,
I never can fool myself and so,
whatever happens I want to be
self respecting and conscience free.

by Edgar Guest

The Day Is Almost Over…

Inspiration for abundance and GYA can come from just about anywhere, if we have chosen to be open to it. One of the places to find inspiration that can quickly lead to motivation is poetry. Here is a favorite from Edgar Guest. Hope you enjoy it.

The Day’s Work

Is anybody happier because you passed his way?
   Does anyone remember that you spoke to him today?
The day is almost over, and its toiling time is through.
   Is there anyone to utter now a kindly word of you?

Did you give a cheerful greeting to the friend who came along,
   Or a churlish sort of “howdy” and then vanish in the throng?
Were you selfish, pure and simple, as you rushed along the way,
   Or is someone mighty grateful for a deed you did today?

Can you say tonight in parting, with the day that is slipping fast,
   That you helped a single brother, of the many that have passed?
Is a single heart rejoicing over what you did or said?
   Does a man whose hopes were fading, now with courage look ahead?

Did you waste the day, or lose it?  Was it well or sorely spent?
   Did you leave a trail of kindness, or a scar of discontent?
As you close your eyes in slumber, do you think that God would say,
You have earned one more tomorrow by the work you did today?

—Edgar Guest

Edgar Albert Guest (August 20, 1881, Birmingham, England – August 5, 1959, Detroit, Michigan) (aka Eddie Guest) was a prolific American poet who was popular in the first half of the 20th century and became known as the People’s Poet.

In 1891, Guest came with his family to the United States from England. He began at the Detroit Free Press as a copy boy, and then a reporter. His first poem appeared December 11, 1898. He became a naturalized citizen in 1902. For 40 years, Guest was widely read throughout North America.

From his first published work in the Detroit Free Press until his death in 1959, Guest penned some 11,000 poems that were syndicated in more than 300 newspapers. Many were reprinted in books of the day, including A Heap o’ Livin’ (1916) and Just Folks (1917). Guest was made Poet Laureate of Michigan, the only poet to have been awarded the title.