Eugene Field

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

Eugene Field Poems

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