I have a little boy at home,
A pretty little son;
I think sometimes the world is mine
In him, my only one.
But seldom, seldom do I see
My child in heaven's light;
I find him always fast asleep…
I see him but at night.
Ere dawn my labor drives me forth;
'Tis night when I am free;
A stranger am I to my child;
And strange my child to me.
I come in darkness to my home,
With weariness and-pay;
My pallid wife, she waits to tell
The things he learned to say.
How plain and prettily he asked:
“Dear mamma, when's 'Tonight'?
O when will come my dear papa
And bring a penny bright?”
I hear her words-I hasten out-
This moment must it be!-
The father-love flames in my breast:
My child must look at me!
I stand beside the tiny cot,
And look, and list, and-ah!
A dream-thought moves the baby-lips:
“O, where is my papa!”
I kiss and kiss the shut blue eyes;
I kiss them not in vain.
They open,-O they see me then!
And straightway close again.
“Here's your papa, my precious one;-
A penny for you!”-ah!
A dream still moves the baby-lips:
“O, where is my papa!”
And I-I think in bitterness
And disappointment sore;
“Some day you will awake, my child,
To find me nevermore.”
My Boy
Morris Rosenfeld
(1)
Poem topics: I love you, father, heaven, light, sometimes, son, wife, world, blue, moment, fast, hear, plain, bright, bring, precious, stranger, pretty, stand, open, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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