Edgar a Host

Silent - Poem by Edgar Albert Guest

I did not argue with the man,
It seemed a waste of words.
He gave to chance the wondrous plan
That gave sweet song to birds.

He gave to force the wisdom wise
That shaped the honeybee,
And made the useful butterflies
So beautiful to see.

And as we walked 'neath splendid trees
Which cast a friendly shade,
He said: 'Such miracles as these
By accident were made.'

Too well I know what accident
And chance and force disclose
To think blind fury could invent
The beauty of a rose.

I let him talk and answered not.
I merely thought it odd
That he could view a garden plot
And not believe in God.

Edgar Albert Guest

Edgar A Host It was a lovely Sunday afternoon All the Guests has just finished Tea One in particular though Why he was staring at me I asked if all was to his satisfaction He smiled, with delight, Not at all being the silent type He replied, why all is splendid as can be He expanded by complimenting my flower garden Very unique, colorful and so full of birds and the bees He had promenaded with another dark fellow with a windy breeze He kept is tongue as the other expounded on the fate of life's dream I smiled all too well knowing the philosophers dance As well as the irony that we had met by circumstance We both gazed out upon, whilst the sun did glance At the beauty of the rose and the fools who think chance I was the Host He was the Guest Poe was the dark soul Albert the scientist enjoying his role We laughed in comradery and lighted cigars Edgar & Edgar, sounds like a law firm ready to spar Ah but I the host and he the humble guest Had a cheerful laugh, whilst being Sunday God did rest