Ill tell you honestly, theres nothing I want more than to succeed at home. Its a desire I hear reverberating in the following poem, also written by Edgar Guest.
I must be fit for a child to follow,
scorning the places where loose men wallow;
knowing how much he shall learn from me,
I must be fair as Id have him be.
I must come home to him day by day,
clean as the morning I went away.
I must be fit for a childs glad greeting;
his are eyes that there is no cheating.
He must behold me in every test,
not at my worst but my very best;
he must be proud when my life is done
to have men know that he is my son.