Edgar Albert Guest

(20 August 1881 - 5 August 1959 / Birmingham / England)

The Sulkers - Poem by Edgar Albert Guest

The world's too busy now to pause
To listen to a whiner's cause;
It has no time to stop and pet
The sulker in a peevish fret,
Who wails he'll neither work nor play

Because things haven't gone his way.
The world keeps plodding right along
And gives its favors right or wrong
To all who have the grit to work
Regardless of the fool or shirk.
The world says this to every man:
'Go out and do the best you can.'

The world's too busy to implore
The beaten one to try once more;
'Twill help him if he wants to rise,
And boost him if he bravely tries,
And shows determination grim;
But it won't stop to baby him.

The world is occupied with men
Who fall but quickly rise again;
But those who whine because they're hit
And step aside to sulk a bit
Are doomed some day to wake and find
The world has left them far behind.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, July 14, 2014

Poem Edited: Monday, July 14, 2014

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