The handy man about the house <br />Is old and bent and gray; <br />Each morning in the yard he toils, <br />Where all the children play; <br />Some new task every day he finds, <br />Some task he loves to do, <br />The handy man about the house, <br />Whose work is never through. <br />The children stand to see him toil, <br />And watch him mend a chair; <br />They bring their broken toys to him <br />He keeps them in repair. <br />No idle moment Grandpa spends, <br />But finds some work to do, <br />And hums a snatch of some old song, <br />That in his youth he knew. <br />He builds with wood most wondrous things: <br />A table for the den, <br />A music rack to please the girls, <br />A gun case for the men. <br />And 'midst his paints and tools he smiles, <br />And seems as young and gay <br />As any of the little ones <br />Who round him run in play. <br />I stopped to speak with him awhile; <br />'Oh, tell me, Grandpa, pray, <br />I said, 'why do you work so hard <br />Throughout the livelong day? <br />Your hair is gray, your back is bent, <br />With weight of years oppressed; <br />This is the evening of your life— <br />Why don't you sit and rest?' <br />'Ah, no,' the old man answered me, <br />'Although I'm old and gray, <br />I like to work out here where I <br />Can watch the children play. <br />The old have tasks that they must do; <br />The greatest of my joys <br />Is working on this shaded porch, <br />And mending children's toys.' <br />And as I wandered on, I thought, <br />Oh, shall I lonely be <br />When time has powdered white my hair, <br />And left his mark on me? <br />Will little children round me play, <br />Shall I have work to do? <br />Or shall I be, when age is mine, <br />Lonely and useless too?<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-handy-man/
