Poet: Edgar A. Guest
I could say nice things about him
I could praise him if I would;
I could tell about his kindness,
For he's always doing good.
I could boost him as he journeys
O'er the road of life today;
But I let him pass in silence
And I've not a word to say:
For I'm one of those now waiting -
Ere a word of praise is said,
Or a word of comfort uttered -
Till the friend we love lies dead.
I could speak of yonder brother
As a man it's good to know;
And perhaps he'd like to hear it,
As he journeys here below.
I could tell the world about him
And his virtues all recall,
But at present he is living,
And it wouldn't do at all:
So I'm waiting, yes, I'm waiting,
Till the spark of life is fled.
Ere I raise my voice to praise him
I must know that he is dead.
I appreciate the kindness
That he's often shown to me,
And it will not be forgotten
When I speak his eulogy.
I should like to stand in public
And proclaim him "friend of mine,"
But that isn't customary,
So I give the world no sign
Of my love for yonder brother,
Who has often helped me here.
I am waiting, ere I praise him,
Till I stand before his bier.
Kindness Poems
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
We can't wait to grow up
And do different stuff.
We can't wait to finish school
Oh we think that will be cool!
We get a job, then we can't wait until Friday
Weekends are great, our job is just okay.
We can't wait to marry
Then we will be happy.
But wait, now we can't wait to have children
Having a family is a given.
We can't wait until we can retire
Then we will be inspired.
But the waiting becomes wishing
Wishing our life away, not really living.
Enjoy the moment, the current time
As once it's gone you never get back your prime.
Don't wait until tomorrow, enjoy it today
Before you know it you will be older and gray.
And you will regret wishing your life away.
So don't wait,
Today life is great.
Waiting Quotes
Poet: Edgar A. Guest
Beneath the snow
That's drifting, dear.
The violet 's waiting
To appear.
And so, although
Your heart is torn,
'Tis out of grief
That love is born.
Patience Poem
Poet: John Burroughs
Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea;
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.
I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace!
I stand amid the eternal ways.
And what is mine shall know my face.
Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.
What matter if I stand alone!
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it hath sown,
And gamer up its fruit of tears.
The waters know their own, and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.
The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.
