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Guest, Edgar A. (Edgar Albert), 1881-1959

"Over Here"


When I no more shall be,
If of me they would brag,
I'd have them speak of me
As one who loved the Flag.
God grant my children may
Not speak of me as one
Who trod a selfish way,
When I am dead and gone.
When they recall my name
I'd have them tell that I
Held dear my Country's fame
And kept her standards high.
Not for the things I gave
Would I be counted kind;
When I am in my grave,
If they my worth would find,
I'd have them read it there
In red and white and blue
And stars of radiance rare!
And say that I was true.

Living

If through the years we're not to do
Much finer deeds than we have done;
If we must merely wander through
Time's garden, idling in the sun;
If there is nothing big ahead,
Why do we fear to join the dead?
Unless to-morrow means that we
Shall do some needed service here;
That tasks are waiting you and me
That will be lost, save we appear;
Then why this dreadful thought of sorrow
That we may never see to-morrow?
If all our finest deeds are done,
And all our splendor's in the past;
If there's no battle to be won,
What matter if to-day's our last?
Is life so sweet that we would live
Though nothing back to life we give?
Not to have lived through seventy years
Is greatness.


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