Edgar A. Guest Quotes

British Poet
Born: August 20, 1959



It Couldn't Be Done Somebody said that it couldn't be done, But he with a chuckle replied That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried. So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin On his face. If he worried he hid it. He started to sing as he tackled the thing That couldn't be done, and he did it. Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that; At least no one ever has done it"; But he took off his coat and he took off his hat, And the first thing we knew he'd begun it. With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin, Without any doubting or quiddit, He started to sing as he tackled the thing That couldn't be done, and he did it. There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done, There are thousands to prophesy failure; There are thousands to point out to you, one by one, The dangers that wait to assail you. But just buckle in with a bit of a grin, Just take off your coat and go to it; Just start to sing as you tackle the thing That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

It Couldn't Be Done Somebody said that it couldn't be done, But he with a chuckle replied That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried. So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin On his face. If he worried he hid it. He started to sing as he tackled the thing That couldn't be done, and he did it. Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that; At least no one ever has done it"; But he took off his coat and he took off his hat, And the first thing we knew he'd begun it. With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin, Without any doubting or quiddit, He started to sing as he tackled the thing That couldn't be done, and he did it. There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done, There are thousands to prophesy failure; There are thousands to point out to you, one by one, The dangers that wait to assail you. But just buckle in with a bit of a grin, Just take off your coat and go to it; Just start to sing as you tackle the thing That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

Edgar A. Guest British Poet
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Often we wonder in our grief what is gained by our belief? Although night, and morning we pray, still our joys are swept away. And loved ones we would keep, with the dead are called to sleep. None is wise enough to say why the wicked seem to stay, and the beautiful and good leave before we think they should. But if death seemed always just, soon in God we’d cease to trust. If for evil, death were meant as a bitter punishment; should the wicked only die, then heaven we seek on high. Having none we long to see would a fearful religion be. It is only by belief we are comforted in grief; it is only by our trust that the God we love is just. That we bear divinely planned. Grief’s we cannot understand.

Often we wonder in our grief what is gained by our belief? Although night, and morning we pray, still our joys are swept away. And loved ones we would keep, with the dead are called to sleep. None is wise enough to say why the wicked seem to stay, and the beautiful and good leave before we think they should. But if death seemed always just, soon in God we’d cease to trust. If for evil, death were meant as a bitter punishment; should the wicked only die, then heaven we seek on high. Having none we long to see would a fearful religion be. It is only by belief we are comforted in grief; it is only by our trust that the God we love is just. That we bear divinely planned. Grief’s we cannot understand.

Edgar A. Guest British Poet
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