An auto is a helpful thing; <br />I love the way the motor hums, <br />I love each cushion and each spring, <br />The way it goes, the way it comes; <br />It saves me many a dreary mile, <br />It brings me quickly to the smile <br />Of those at home, and every day <br />It adds unto my time for play. <br />It keeps me with my friends in touch; <br />No journey now appears too much <br />To make with meetings at the end: <br />It gives me time to be a friend. <br />It laughs at distance, and has power <br />To lengthen every fleeting hour. <br />It bears me into country new <br />That otherwise I'd never view. <br />It's swift and sturdy and it strives <br />To fill with happiness our lives; <br />When for the doctor we've a need <br />It brings him to our door with speed. <br />It saves us hours of anxious care <br />And heavy heartache and despair. <br />It has its faults, but still I sing: <br />The auto is a helpful thing.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-auto/
