Eugene Field

(2 September 1850 - 4 November 1895 / St Louis / Missouri / United States)

Eugene Field Poems

121. Jewish Lullaby 3/31/2012
122. John Smith 4/9/2010
123. Kissing Time 1/1/2004
124. Krinken 1/1/2004
125. Lady Button-Eyes 1/1/2004
126. Let Us Have Peace 4/9/2010
127. Little All-Aloney 1/1/2004
128. Little Boy Blue 1/1/2004
129. Little Croodlin Doo 1/1/2004
130. Little Mack 1/1/2004
131. Little Miss Brag 1/1/2004
132. Little Willie 1/1/2004
133. Little-Oh Dear 1/1/2004
134. Long Ago 1/1/2004
135. Long Meter 4/9/2010
136. Love Song--Heine 1/1/2004
137. Lullaby; By The Sea 1/1/2004
138. Lydia Dick 4/9/2010
139. Lyman, Frederick, And Jim 1/1/2004
140. Madge: Ye Hoyden 1/1/2004
141. Marcus Varro 4/9/2010
142. Marthy's Younkit 1/1/2004
143. Mary Smith 1/1/2004
144. Mediaeval Eventide Song 1/1/2004
145. Mortality 4/9/2010
146. Mother And Child 1/1/2004
147. Mother And Sphinx 1/1/2004
148. Mr. Dana, Of The New York Sun 1/1/2004
149. My Garden 4/9/2010
150. My Playmates 1/1/2004
151. Mysterious Doings 1/1/2004
152. New-Year's Eve 4/9/2010
153. Nightfall In Dordrecht 4/9/2010
154. Norse Lullaby 1/1/2004
155. Old Dutch Love Song 4/9/2010
156. Old English Lullaby 4/9/2010
157. Old Spanish Song 4/9/2010
158. Orkney Lullaby 1/1/2004
159. Our Biggest Fish 1/1/2004
160. Our Lady Of The Mine 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Eugene Field

Little Boy Blue

The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new
And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
"And don't you make any noise!"
So toddling off to his trundle-bed
He dreamed of the pretty toys.
And as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue,--
Oh, the years are many, the ...

Read the full of Little Boy Blue

Picnic-Time

It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;
For, every June, the Sunday-schools at picnics may be seen,
Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green";
Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders, bugs, and ants,
An' little boys get grass-stains on their go-to meetin' pants.
It's June ag'in, an' with it all what happiness is mine -
There's goin' to be a picnic, an' I'm goin' to jine!

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