Eugene Field

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

Eugene Field Poems

161. Our Two Opinions 1/1/2004
162. Over The Hills And Far Away 4/9/2010
163. Pan Liveth 1/1/2004
164. Picnic-Time 1/1/2004
165. Pittypat And Tippytoe 1/1/2004
166. Plaint Of The Missouri 'Coon In The Berlin Zoological Gardens 4/9/2010
167. Prof. Vere De Blaw 1/1/2004
168. Quitting Again 4/9/2010
169. Sailor And Shade 4/9/2010
170. Seein' Things 1/1/2004
171. Shuffle-Shoon And Amber-Locks 1/1/2004
172. Sicilian Lullaby 1/1/2004
173. Sister's Cake 1/1/2004
174. So, So, Rock-A-By So! 1/1/2004
175. Soldier, Maiden, And Flower 1/1/2004
176. Some Time 1/1/2004
177. Star Of The East 1/1/2004
178. Stoves And Sunshine 1/1/2004
179. Summer Heat 4/9/2010
180. Suppose 1/1/2004
181. Swing High And Swing Low 1/1/2004
182. The "Happy Isles" Of Horace 1/1/2004
183. The Ballad Of The Taylor Pup 4/9/2010
184. The Bench-Legged Fyce 1/1/2004
185. The Bibliomaniac's Bride 1/1/2004
186. The Bibliomaniac's Prayer 1/1/2004
187. The Bibliomaniac's's Prayer 1/1/2004
188. The Blue And Gray 4/9/2010
189. The Bottle And The Bird 4/9/2010
190. The Bottle Tree 1/1/2004
191. The Bow-Leg Boy 1/1/2004
192. The Broken Ring 4/9/2010
193. The Brook 1/1/2004
194. The Convalescent Gripster 4/9/2010
195. The Conversazzhony 1/1/2004
196. The Cunnin' Little Thing 1/1/2004
197. The Dead Babe 1/1/2004
198. The Death Of Robin Hood 1/1/2004
199. The Delectable Ballad Of The Waller Lot 1/1/2004
200. The Dinkey Bird 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


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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