Eugene Field

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

Eugene Field Poems

81. Dibdin's Ghost 4/9/2010
82. In Praise Of Contentment 4/9/2010
83. Mediaeval Eventide Song 1/1/2004
84. The Sleeping Child 4/9/2010
85. Hi-Spy 1/1/2004
86. An Invitation To Maecenas 4/9/2010
87. The Poet's Metamorphosis 4/9/2010
88. Summer Heat 4/9/2010
89. De Amicitiis 1/1/2004
90. The Straw Parlor 1/1/2004
91. Twin Idols 1/1/2004
92. The Truth About Hhorace 1/1/2004
93. How Salty Win Out 4/9/2010
94. Horace Ii, 13. 4/9/2010
95. Quitting Again 4/9/2010
96. Madge: Ye Hoyden 1/1/2004
97. Horace Iii. 13 1/1/2004
98. Kissing Time 1/1/2004
99. Horace And Lydia Reconciled 1/1/2004
100. Dr. Sam 1/1/2004
101. The Vision Of The Holy Grail 4/9/2010
102. Epilogue 4/9/2010
103. Fame _Vs._ Riches 4/9/2010
104. Horace To His Lute 4/9/2010
105. Plaint Of The Missouri 'Coon In The Berlin Zoological Gardens 4/9/2010
106. Garden And Cradle 1/1/2004
107. Let Us Have Peace 4/9/2010
108. Horatian Lyrics Odes I, 23. 4/9/2010
109. Horace Ii, 3. 4/9/2010
110. Horace I, 22. 4/9/2010
111. Armenian Folk-Song--The Stork 4/9/2010
112. An Autumn Treasure-Trove 4/9/2010
113. Casey's Table D'Hote 4/9/2010
114. The Tin Bank 4/9/2010
115. To A Jar Of Wine 4/9/2010
116. Little Mack 1/1/2004
117. Echoes From The Sabine Farm 4/9/2010
118. Long Meter 4/9/2010
119. Lydia Dick 4/9/2010
120. To Aristius Fuscus 4/9/2010
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!

[Report Error]