Eugene Field

Prate, ye who will, of so-called charms you find across the sea The land of stoves and sunshine is good enough for me! I’ve done the grand for fourteen months in every foreign clime,

When Willie was a little boy, No more than five or six, Right constantly he did annoy His mother with his tricks. Yet not a picayune cared I For what he did or said,

Up in the attic where I slept When I was a boy, a little boy, In through the lattice the moonlight crept, Bringing a tide of dreams that swept Over the low, red trundle-bed,

God rest you, Chrysten gentil men, Wherever you may be, God rest you all in fielde or hall, Or on ye stormy sea; For on this morn oure Chryst is born That saveth you

As once I rambled in the woods I chanced to spy amid the brake A huntsman ride his way beside A fair and passing tranquil lake; Though velvet bucks sped here and there, He

Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken, Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken; Like as a lyttel deere you ben y-hiding Whenas come lovers with theyre pityse chiding; Sothly it ben faire

I’m a beautiful red, red drum, And I train with the soldier boys; As up the street we come, Wonderful is our noise! There’s Tom, and Jim, and Phil, And Dick, and Nat, and

See, what a wonderful garden is here, Planted and trimmed for my Little-Oh-Dear! Posies so gaudy and grass of such brown – Search ye the country and hunt ye the town And never ye’ll

Of all the opry-houses then obtaining in the West The one which Milton Tootle owned was, by all odds, the best; Milt, being rich, was much too proud to run the thing alone, So

Play that my knee was a calico mare Saddled and bridled for Bumpville; Leap to the back of this steed, if you dare, And gallop away to Bumpville! I hope you’ll be sure to

A moonbeam floateth from the skies, Whispering, “Heigho, my dearie! I would spin a web before your eyes, A beautiful web of silver light, Wherein is many a wondrous sight Of a radiant garden

Lie in my arms, Ailsie, my bairn, Lie in my arms and dinna greit; Long time been past syn I kenned you last, But my harte been allwais the same, my swete. Ailsie, I

One night a tiny dewdrop fell Into the bosom of a rose, “Dear little one, I love thee well, Be ever here thy sweet repose!” Seeing the rose with love bedight, The envious sky

I Once a fowler, young and artless, To the quiet greenwood came; Full of skill was he and heartless In pursuit of feathered game. And betimes he chanced to see Eros perching in a

‘T is when the lark goes soaring And the bee is at the bud, When lightly dancing zephyrs Sing over field and flood; When all sweet things in nature Seem joyfully achime – ‘T

Us two wuz boys when we fell out, Nigh to the age uv my youngest now; Don’t rec’lect what’t wuz about, Some small deeff’rence, I’ll allow. Lived next neighbors twenty years, A-hatin’ each other,

O fountain of Bandusia, Whence crystal waters flow, With garlands gay and wine I’ll pay The sacrifice I owe; A sportive kid with budding horns I have, whose crimson blood Anon shall dye and

(ALASKAN BALLAD) The Northland reared his hoary head And spied the Southland leagues away “Fairest of all fair brides,” he said, “Be thou my bride, I pray!” Whereat the Southland laughed and cried: “I’ll

Full many a sinful notion Conceived of foreign powers Has come across the ocean To harm this land of ours; And heresies called fashions Have modesty effaced, And baleful, morbid passions Corrupt our native

O hapless day! O wretched day! I hoped you’d pass me by Alas, the years have sneaked away And all is changed but I! Had I the power, I would remand You to a

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

A tortuous double iron track; a station here, a station there; A locomotive, tender, tanks; a coach with stiff reclining chair; Some postal cars, and baggage, too; a vestibule of patent make; With buffers,

The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fellers all thought well uv, And there befell the episode I now perpose to tell uv; ‘T wuz in the year uv sixty-nine, somewhere along in summer,

They told me once that Pan was dead, And so, in sooth, I thought him; For vainly where the streamlets led Through flowery meads I sought him Nor in his dewy pasture bed Nor

To-day, fair Thisbe, winsome girl! Strays o’er the meads where daisies blow, Or, ling’ring where the brooklets purl, Laves in the cool, refreshing flow. To-morrow, Thisbe, with a host Of amorous suitors in her

Ho, pretty bee, did you see my croodlin doo? Ho, little lamb, is she jinkin’ on the lea? Ho, bonnie fairy, bring my dearie back to me Got a lump o’ sugar an’ a

Sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings, Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes; Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging Swinging the nest where her little one lies. Away out yonder I see a

Keep me, I pray, in wisdom’s way That I may truths eternal seek; I need protecting care to-day, My purse is light, my flesh is weak. So banish from my erring heart All baleful

I. TO MISTRESS BARBARA There were three cavaliers, all handsome and true, On Valentine’s day came a maiden to woo, And quoth to your mother: “Good-morrow, my dear, We came with some songs for

“Sweetheart, take this,” a soldier said, “And bid me brave good-by; It may befall we ne’er shall wed, But love can never die. Be steadfast in thy troth to me, And then, whate’er my

(A BALLAD IN THE ANGLO-SAXON TONGUE) When to the dreary greenwood gloam Winfreda’s husband strode that day, The fair Winfreda bode at home To toil the weary time away; “While thou art gone to

All day long they come and go Pittypat and Tippytoe; Footprints up and down the hall, Playthings scattered on the floor, Finger-marks along the wall, Tell-tale smudges on the door By these presents you

My Shepherd is the Lord my God, There is no want I know; His flock He leads in verdant meads, Where tranquil waters flow. He doth restore my fainting soul With His divine caress,

Where wail the waters in their flaw A spectre wanders to and fro, And evermore that ghostly shore Bemoans the heir of Yvytot. Sometimes, when, like a fleecy pall, The mists upon the waters

How calm, how beauteous and how cool How like a sister to the skies, Appears the broad, transparent pool That in this quiet forest lies. The sunshine ripples on its face, And from the

When Father Time swings round his scythe, Entomb me ‘neath the bounteous vine, So that its juices, red and blithe, May cheer these thirsty bones of mine. “Elsewise with tears and bated breath Should

I looked in the brook and saw a face – Heigh-ho, but a child was I! There were rushes and willows in that place, And they clutched at the brook as the brook ran

Come, my little one, with me! There are wondrous sights to see As the evening shadows fall; In your pretty cap and gown, Don’t detain The Shut-Eye train – “Ting-a-ling!” the bell it goeth,

Upon a mountain height, far from the sea, I found a shell, And to my listening ear the lonely thing Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing, Ever a tale of ocean seemed

Achievin’ sech distinction with his moddel tabble dote Ez to make his Red Hoss Mountain restauraw a place uv note, Our old friend Casey innovated somewhat round the place, In hopes he would ameliorate

Have you ever heard the wind go “Yooooo”? ‘T is a pitiful sound to hear! It seems to chill you through and through With a strange and speechless fear. ‘T is the voice of

There once was a bird that lived up in a tree, And all he could whistle was “Fiddle-dee-dee” – A very provoking, unmusical song For one to be whistling the summer day long! Yet

‘Tis years, soubrette, since last we met; And yet ah, yet, how swift and tender My thoughts go back in time’s dull track To you, sweet pink of female gender! I shall not say

Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse – Perhaps you have seen him before; Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept Through the moonlight that floats on the floor. For it’s only

When baby wakes of mornings, Then it’s wake, ye people all! For another day Of song and play Has come at our darling’s call! And, till she gets her dinner, She makes the welkin

Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks Sit together, building blocks; Shuffle-Shoon is old and grey, Amber-Locks a little child, But together at their play Age and Youth are reconciled, And with sympathetic glee Build their castles fair

There were three cavaliers that went over the Rhine, And gayly they called to the hostess for wine. “And where is thy daughter? We would she were here, Go fetch us that maiden to

(EGYPTIAN FOLK-SONG) Grim is the face that looks into the night Over the stretch of sands; A sullen rock in a sea of white A ghostly shadow in ghostly light, Peering and moaning it

Speakin’ of dorgs, my bench-legged fyce Hed most o’ the virtues, an’ nary a vice. Some folks called him Sooner, a name that arose From his predisposition to chronic repose; But, rouse his ambition,

TO MISS GRACE KING Down in the old French quarter, Just out of Rampart street, I wend my way At close of day Unto the quaint retreat Where lives the Voodoo Doctor By some

Come, brothers, share the fellowship We celebrate to-night; There’s grace of song on every lip And every heart is light! But first, before our mentor chimes The hour of jubilee, Let’s drink a health

The image of the moon at night All trembling in the ocean lies, But she, with calm and steadfast light, Moves proudly through the radiant skies, How like the tranquil moon thou art Thou

The mountain brook sung lonesomelike, and loitered on its way Ez if it waited for a child to jine it in its play; The wild-flowers uv the hillside bent down their heads to hear

Little All-Aloney’s feet Pitter-patter in the hall, And his mother runs to meet And to kiss her toddling sweet, Ere perchance he fall. He is, oh, so weak and small! Yet what danger shall

The women-folk are like to books, Most pleasing to the eye, Whereon if anybody looks He feels disposed to buy. I hear that many are for sale, Those that record no dates, And such

Sweet, bide with me and let my love Be an enduring tether; Oh, wanton not from spot to spot, But let us dwell together. You’ve come each morn to sip the sweets With which

The little French doll was a dear little doll Tricked out in the sweetest of dresses; Her eyes were of hue A most delicate blue And dark as the night were her tresses; Her

It’s when the birds go piping and the daylight slowly breaks, That, clamoring for his dinner, our precious baby wakes; Then it’s sleep no more for baby, and it’s sleep no more for me,

Aha! a traitor in the camp, A rebel strangely bold, A lisping, laughing, toddling scamp, Not more than four years old! To think that I, who’ve ruled alone So proudly in the past, Should

When thou dost eat from off this plate, I charge thee be thou temperate; Unto thine elders at the board Do thou sweet reverence accord; And, though to dignity inclined, Unto the serving-folk be

The top it hummeth a sweet, sweet song To my dear little boy at play – Merrily singeth all day long, As it spinneth and spinneth away. And my dear little boy He laugheth

Play that you are mother dear, And play that papa is your beau; Play that we sit in the corner here, Just as we used to, long ago. Playing so, we lovers two Are

Up yonder in Buena Park There is a famous spot, In legend and in history Yclept the Waller Lot. There children play in daytime And lovers stroll by dark, For ‘t is the goodliest

Suppose, my dear, that you were I And by your side your sweetheart sate; Suppose you noticed by and by The distance ‘twixt you were too great; Now tell me, dear, what would you

Out on the mountain over the town, All night long, all night long, The trolls go up and the trolls go down, Bearing their packs and crooning a song; And this is the song

The wind comes whispering to me of the country green and cool Of redwing blackbirds chattering beside a reedy pool; It brings me soothing fancies of the homestead on the hill, And I hear

Come, Phyllis, I’ve a cask of wine That fairly reeks with precious juices, And in your tresses you shall twine The loveliest flowers this vale produces. My cottage wears a gracious smile, The altar,

Come hither, lyttel childe, and lie upon my breast to-night, For yonder fares an angell yclad in raimaunt white, And yonder sings ye angell as onely angells may, And his songe ben of a

Ed was a man that played for keeps, ‘nd when he tuk the notion, You cudn’t stop him any more’n a dam ‘ud stop the ocean; For when he tackled to a thing ‘nd

HORACE When you were mine in auld lang syne, And when none else your charms might ogle, I’ll not deny, Fair nymph, that I Was happier than a Persian mogul. LYDIA Before she came

O mother-my-love, if you’ll give me your hand, And go where I ask you to wander, I will lead you away to a beautiful land, The Dreamland that’s waiting out yonder. We’ll walk in

How trifling shall these gifts appear Among the splendid many That loving friends now send to cheer Harvey and Ellen Jenney. And yet these baubles symbolize A certain fond relation That well beseems, as

There are two phrases, you must know, So potent (yet so small) That wheresoe’er a man may go He needs none else at all; No servile guide to lead the way Nor lackey at

Shall I woo the one or other? Both attract me more’s the pity! Pretty is the widowed mother, And the daughter, too, is pretty. When I see that maiden shrinking, By the gods I