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No Place to Go
by
Edgar Guest


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The happiest nights
    I ever know
  Are those when I've
    No place to go,
  And the missus says
    When the day is through:
  "To-night we haven't
    A thing to do."

  Oh, the joy of it,
    And the peace untold
  Of sitting 'round
    In my slippers old,
  With my pipe and book
    In my easy chair,
  Knowing I needn't
    Go anywhere.

  Needn't hurry
    My evening meal
  Nor force the smiles
    That I do not feel,
  But can grab a book
    From a near-by shelf,
  And drop all sham
    And be myself.

  Oh, the charm of it
    And the comfort rare;
  Nothing on earth
    With it can compare;
  And I'm sorry for him
    Who doesn't know
  The joy of having
    No place to go.


This poem is in the public domain.

 


Edgar Guest (1881 - 1959)  was born in England,  but moved with his family to Detroit, Michigan, when he was ten years old. He worked for more than sixty years at the Detroit Free Press, publishing his first poem at the age of seventeen, then going on to become a reporter and columnist whose work was featured in hundreds of newspapers around the country. Edgar is said to have written some 11,000 poems during his lifetime, most of it sentimental, short, upbeat verse. Critics often derided his work, but America adored him. He was known as the "People's Poet," served as Michigan's poet laureate, hosted a long-running radio show and TV show, and published more than twenty books.

 

 


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