Eugene Field

Full many a sinful notion  Conceived of foreign
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 taste

I say, as one who never
The wrath of a subscriber's bullet,
I pity him who has a
But has no little girl to pull it

Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse -Perhaps you have seen him before;
Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has
Through the moonlight that floats on the floor
For it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright,

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 by;
And the brook it ran its own sweet way,

How trifling shall these gifts appear  Among the splendid
That loving friends now send to cheer  Harvey and Ellen Jenney
And yet these baubles symbolize  A certain fond
That well beseems, as I surmise,  This festive celebration

The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby
Comes stealing; comes creeping;
The poppies they hang from her head to her feet,
And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet -She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet,

Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,
Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill
Mighty glad I ain't a girl - ruther be a boy,
Without them sashes, curls, an' things that's worn by Fauntleroy

I count my treasures o'er with care
—  The little toy my darling knew,  A little sock of faded hue,
A little lock of golden hair
Long years ago this holy time,  My little one—my all to me—  Sat robed in white upon my

Krinken was a little child,—It was summer when he smiled
Oft the hoary sea and
Stretched its white arms out to him,
Calling, "Sun-child, come to me;

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 a sweet posie-garden out there, Where moonlight and starlig...

"Give me my bow," said Robin Hood, "An arrow give to me;
And where 't is shot mark thou that spot, For there my grave shall be
"Then Little John did make no sign, And not a word he spake;
But he smiled, altho' wi...

When the world is fast asleep, Along the midnight skies—As though it were a wandering cloud— The ghostly dream-ship flies
An angel stands at the dream-ship's helm, An angel stands at the prow,
And an angel stands at the dream-ship's side...