The Neighborly Man

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Some are eager to be famous, some are striving
  to be great,
  Some are toiling to be leaders of their nation
  or their state,
  And in every man's ambition, if we only understood,
  There is much that's fine and splendid; every
  hope is mostly good.
  So I cling unto the notion that contented I
  will be
  If the men upon life's pathway find a needed
  friend in me.

  I rather like to putter 'round the walks and
  yards of life,
  To spray at night the roses that are burned and
  browned with strife;
  To eat a frugal dinner, but always to have a
  chair
  For the unexpected stranger that my simple
  meal would share.
  I don't care to be a traveler, I would rather be
  the one
  Sitting calmly by the roadside helping weary
  travelers on.

  I'd like to be a neighbor in the good old-fashioned way,
  Finding much to do for others, but not over
  much to say.
  I like to read the papers, but I do not yearn
  to see
  What the journal of the morning has been
  moved to say of me;
  In the silences and shadows I would live my
  life and die
  And depend for fond remembrance on some
  grateful passers-by.

  I guess I wasn't fashioned for the brilliant
  things of earth,
  Wasn't gifted much with talent or designed for
  special worth,
  But was just sent here to putter with life's little
  odds and ends
  And keep a simple corner where the stirring
  highway bends,
  And if folks should chance to linger, worn and
  weary through the day,
  To do some needed service and to cheer them
  on their way.

© Edgar Albert Guest