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Edgar Albert Guest (Эдгар Альберт Гест) Childless If certain folks that I know well Should come to me their woes to tell I'd read the sorrow in their faces And I could analyze their cases. I watch some couples day by day Go madly on their selfish way Forever seeking happiness And always finding something less. If she whose face is fair to see, Yet lacks one charm that there should be, Should open wide her heart to-day I think I know what she would say. She'd tell me that his love seems cold And not the love she knew of old; That for the home they've built to share No longer does her husband care; That he seems happier away Than by her side, and every day That passes leaves them more apart; And then perhaps her tears would start And in a softened voice she'd add: "Sometimes I wonder, if we had A baby now to love, if he Would find so many faults in me?" And if he came to tell his woe Just what he'd say to me, I know: "There's something dismal in the place That always stares me in the face. I love her. She is good and sweet But still my joy is incomplete. And then it seems to me that she Can only see the faults in me. I wonder sometimes if we had A little girl or little lad, If life with all its fret and fuss Would then seem so monotonous?" And what I'd say to them I know. I'd bid them straightway forth to go And find that child and take him in And start the joy of life to win. You foolish, hungry souls, I'd say, You're living in a selfish way. A baby's arms stretched out to you Will give you something real to do. And though God has not sent one down To you, within this very town Somewhere a little baby lies That would bring gladness to your eyes. You cannot live this life for gold Or selfish joys. As you grow old You'll find that comfort only springs From living for the living things. And home must be a barren place That never knows a baby's face. Take in a child that needs your care, Give him your name and let him share Your happiness and you will own More joy than you have ever known, And, what is more, you'll come to feel That you are doing something real. Edgar Albert Guest's other poems:
Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1197 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |