WHEN DAY IS DONE

I've been browsing Edgar Guest poems all morning, and just couldn't decide, so I'm posting 2 today.  Enjoy this beautiful poem - it is one of my absolute favorites.  What a glimpse at what it means to our husbands to have a home where they are honored and appreciated.  I am inspired to try harder when I read this. 
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WHEN DAY IS DONE
Edgar Guest

When day is done and the night slips down,
And I’ve turned my back on the busy town,
And come once more to the welcome gate
Where the roses nod and the children wait,
I tell myself as I see them smile
That life is good and its tasks worth while.

When day is done and I’ve come once more
To my quiet street and the friendly door,
Where the Mother reigns and the children play
And the kettle sings in the old-time way,
I throw my coat on a near-by chair
And say farewell to my pack of care.

When day is done, all the hurt and strife
And the selfishness and the greed of life,
Are left behind in the busy town;
I’ve ceased to worry about renown
Or gold or fame, and I’m just a dad,
Content to be with his girl and lad.

Whatever the day has brought of care,
Here love and laughter are mine to share,
Here I can claim what the rich desire–
Rest and peace by a ruddy fire,
The welcome words which the loved ones speak
And the soft caress of a baby’s cheek.

When day is done and I reach my gate,
I come to a realm where there is no hate,
For here, whatever my worth may be,
Are those who cling to their faith in me;
And with love on guard at my humble door,
I have all that the world has struggled for.

By Edgar Guest

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY - ONLY A DAD

 

 

Happy Father's Day to all the loving, diligent, hard working daddys out there.  Neither my own dad nor my husband had fathers to mentor them or love on them.  Both were victims of divorce and absent dads.  Yet, while they are far from perfect, they are both loving fathers, examples of how God is a Father to the  fatherless. Because of Jesus, they are determined to leave a different legacy for my children and offer an example of a diligent, faithful, family man.  And I am grateful for them both.   

ONLY A DAD
Only a dad, with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame,
To show how well he has played the game,
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come, and to hear his voice.

Only a dad, with a brood of four,
One of ten million men or more.
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.

Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Silent, whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.

Only a dad, but he gives his all
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing, with courage stern and grim,
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen,
Only a dad, but the best of men.

By Edgar A. Guest