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Orchard Lake

By Edgar A. Guest


hen I’m tired of writing verses

And I’m weary of the grind;

When I’m sick of bulging purses

And of selfishness unkind;

When the daily strife and battle

And the constant din they make

Grow depressing, then I rattle

In my Ford to Orchard Lake.

Then I turn my radiator

Just a little north by west

And I go where the Creator

Has been lavish with His best.

And I go where lives are gentle

And where feathered songsters sing,

And where something sentimental

Hovers over everything.

And I go where hearts are fonder

Of the tender things than gold,

Just a little way off yonder

Where are blossoms to behold,

Just a little way to smiling

And to gladness and to play,

Where men cease their mean reviling

And are loyal, come what may.

When I’m weary of the city

Of its braggart bluff and blow,

Of its condescending pity

That its people often show;

When I’m tired of all the worry,

And for honest charms I ache,

Then I take my Ford and hurry

To the joys of Orchard Lake.

According to the links below, “Edgar Allen

Guest, also known as Eddie Guest, was a

prolific English-born American poet who was

popular in the first half of the 20th century

and became known as the People’s Poet . . . For

more than 30 years, there was not a day that


Free Press

went to press without Guest’s

verse on its pages. He worked for the



for more than six decades. Thousands

of Detroiters were born, grew up and had

children of their own before a

Free Press


arrived at their homes without Guest’s gentle

human touch.”

This poem was emailed to the Good News by

Syd Kistler (P’75) this year. He pointed out that

it is the same poem which was sent to alumni by

Father Ziemba when he was President-Rector.

The poem and author biography appear on the

Greater West Bloomfield Historical Society’s