Eugene Field Poems
|282.||Pittypat And Tippytoe||1/1/2004|
|283.||Child And Mother||1/1/2004|
|285.||Jest 'Fore Christmas||1/1/2004|
|286.||Wynken, Blynken, And Nod||1/20/2003|
|287.||Little Boy Blue||1/1/2004|
Comments about 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 ...
On afternoons, when baby boy has had a splendid nap,
And sits, like any monarch on his throne, in nurse's lap,
In some such wise my handkerchief I hold before my face,
And cautiously and quietly I move about the place;
Then, with a cry, I suddenly expose my face to view,
And you should hear him laugh and crow when I say "Booh"!
Sometimes the rascal tries to make believe that he is scared,
And really, when I first began, he stared, and stared, and stared;