Michigan's Poet Laureate

In 1895, Edgar A. “Eddie” Guest worked for the Detroit and worked his way up from office boy to eventually becoming a “Poet of the People.” With the consent of the Free Press, Guest’s “poem a day” went into syndication and appeared in over 250 newspapers. With a poem in print every day for thirty years, Guest’s poems reached a wide and admiring audience. At the suggestion of readers, Guest compiled his poems into book form, totaling twenty. On March 2, 1952, he was made Michigan’s Poet Laureate, the first and only person ever to be given that title. Below are some samples of Guest's poetry.

The Guest family, clockwise: Bud, Edgar, Nellie and Janet. Photo Burton Historical Collection, Detroit Public Library.

Show the Flag
Show the flag and let it wave
As a symbol of the brave;
Let it float upon the breeze
As a sign for each who sees
That beneath it, where it rides,
Loyalty to-day abides

Show the flag and signify
That it wasn't born to die;
Let its colors speak for you
That you still are standing true,
True in sight of God and man
To the work that flag began.

Show the flag that all may see
That you serve humanity.
Let it whisper to the breeze
That comes singing through the trees
That whatever storms descent
You'll be faithful to the end.

Show the flag and let it fly,
Cheering every passer-by.
Men that may have stepped aside,
May have lost their old-time pride,
May behold it there, and then,
Consecrate themselves again.

Show the flag! The day is gone
When men blindly hurry on
Serving only gods of gold;
Now the spirit that was cold
Warms again to courage fine.
Show the flag and fall in line!

Things Work Out
Because it rains when we wish it wouldn't,
Because men do what they often shouldn't,
Because crops fail, and plans go wrong-
Some of us grumble all day long.
But somehow, in spite of the care and doubt,
It seems at last that things work out.

Because we lose where we hoped to gain,
Because we suffer a little pain,
Because we must work when we'd like to play-
Some of us whimper along life's way.
But somehow, as day always follows the night,
Most of our troubles work out all right.

Because we cannot forever smile,
Because we must trudge in the dust awhile,
Because we think that the way is long-
Some of us whimper that life's all wrong.
But somehow we live and our sky grows bright,
And everything seems to work out all right.

So bend to your trouble and meet your care,
For the clouds must break, and the sky grow fair.
Let the rain come down, as it must and will,
But keep on working and hoping still.
For in spite of the grumblers who stand about,
Somehow, it seems, all things work out.

The Kick Under the Table
After a man has been married awhile,
And his wife has grown used to his manner
	And style,
When she knows form the twinkle that lights
	Up his eye
The thoughts he is thinking, the wherefore and
	Why,
And just what he'll say, and just what he'll do,
And is sure that he'll make a bad break ere he's
	Through,
She has one little trick that she'll work when
	She's able-
She takes a sly kick at him under the table.

He may fancy the story he's telling is true,
Or he's doing the thing which is proper to do;
He may fancy he's holding his own with the
	Rest,
The life of the party and right at his best,
When quickly he learns to his utter dismay,
That he mustn't say what he's just started to say.
He is stopped at the place where he hoped to
	Begin,
By his wife, who has taken at kick at his shin.

If he picks the wrong fork for the salad, he
	Knows,
That fact by the feel of his wife's slippered toes.
If he's started a bit of untellable news,
On the calf of his leg there is planted a bruise.
Oh, I wonder sometimes what would happen to
	Me
If the wife were not seated just where she 
	Could be
On guard every minute to watch every trick,
And keep me in line all the time with her kick.

For more poems and to learn how Edgar Guest became Michigan's Poet Laureate, see the March/April 2004 issue of Michigan History.