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Title: Just Half Of That, Please
Author: Edgar A. Guest [
More Titles by Guest]
Grandmother says when I pass her the cake:
"Just half of that, please."
If I serve her the tenderest portion of steak:
"Just half of that, please."
And be the dessert a rice pudding or pie,
As I pass Grandma's share she is sure to reply,
With the trace of a twinkle to light up her eye:
"Just half of that, please."
I've cut down her portions but still she tells me:
"Just half of that, please."
Though scarcely a mouthful of food she can see:
"Just half of that, please."
If I pass her the chocolates she breaks one in two,
There's nothing so small but a smaller will do,
And she says, perhaps fearing she's taking from you:
"Just half of that, please."
When at last Grandma leaves us the angels will hear:
"Just half of that, please."
When with joys for the gentle and brave they appear:
"Just half of that, please."
And for fear they may think she is selfish up there,
Or is taking what may be a young angel's share,
She will say with the loveliest smile she can wear:
"Just half of that, please."
[The end]
Edgar A. Guest's poem: Just Half Of That, Please
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