Eugene Field

“ GOOD-CHILDREN STREET
THERE'S a dear little home in Good-Children street—
⁠My heart turneth fondly to-day
Where tinkle of tongues and patter of feet
⁠Make sweetest of music at play;
Where the sunshine of love illumines each face
And warms every heart in that old-fashioned place.
For dear little children go romping about
⁠With dollies and tin tops and drums,
And, my! how they frolic and scamper and shout
⁠Till bedtime too speedily comes!
Oh, days they are golden and days they are fleet
With little folk living in Good-Children street. ”

“ And all he could whistle was "Fiddle-dee-dee"—
A very provoking, unmusical song
For one to be whistling the summer day long!
Yet always contented and busy was he
With that vocal recurrence of "Fiddle-dee-dee."
Hard by lived a brave little soldier of four,
That weird iteration repented him sore;
"I prithee, Dear-Mother-Mine! fetch me my gun,
For, by our St. Didy! the deed must be done
That shall presently rid all creation and me
Of that ominous bird and his 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!" ”

“ But down through the years comes a little one's prattle,
⁠And softly he murmurs her idolized name.
And it seems as if now at his heart she were clinging
⁠As she clung in those dear, distant years to his knee;
He sees her fair face, and he hears her sweet singing—
⁠And Nellie is coming from over the sea.
While each patriot's hope stays the fulness of sorrow,
⁠While our eyes are bedimmed and our voices are low,
He dreams of the daughter who comes with the morrow
⁠Like an angel come back from the dear long ago. ”

“ THE BROOK
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,
As a child doth run in heedless play,
And as it ran I heard it say:
⁠"Hasten with me
⁠To the roistering sea
⁠That is wroth with the flame of the morning sky!"
I look in the brook and see a face—
⁠Heigh-ho, but the years go by! ”

“ A little one heard three voices say:
⁠"Shine and shadow, summer and spring,
⁠O thou child with the tangled hair
⁠And laughing eyes! we three shall bring
⁠Each an offering passing fair."
The little one did not understand,
But they bent and kissed the dimpled hand.
Buttercup gambolled all day long,
Sharing the little one's mirth and song;
Then, stealing along on misty gleams,
Poppy came bearing the sweetest dreams.
⁠Playing and dreaming—and that was all,
⁠Till once a sleeper would not awake;
⁠Kissing the little face under the pall,
⁠We thought of the words the third flower spake ”

“ A sturdy old heart, but it has to succumb
To the blare of that trumpet and beat of that drum!
Come on, little people, from cot and from hall—
This heart it hath welcome and room for you all!
⁠It will sing you its songs and warm you with love,
⁠As your dear little arms with my arms intertwine;
⁠It will rock you away to the dreamland above—
⁠Oh, a jolly old heart is this old heart of mine,
And jollier still is it bound to become
When you blow that big trumpet and beat that red drum! ”

“ While the breezes they blow—
It's off for a sailor thy father would go;
And it's here in the harbor, in sight of the sea,
He hath left his wee babe with my song and with me"
⁠"Swing high and swing low
⁠While the breezes they blow!"
⁠Swing high and swing low
⁠While the breezes they blow—
It's oh for the waiting as weary days go!
And it's oh for the heartache that smiteth me when
I sing my song over and over again:
⁠"Swing high and swing low
⁠While the breezes they blow!" ”

“ To climb unto and comprehend the old fire-hangbird's nest!
I like to see my old-time friend swing in that ancient tree,
And, if the elm's as tall and sturdy as it used to be,
I'm sure that many a year that nest shall in the breezes blow,
For boys aren't what they used to be a forty years ago! ”

“ I'd like to sleep where I used to sleep
⁠When I was a boy, a little boy!
For in at the lattice the moon would peep,
Bringing her tide of dreams to sweep
The crosses and griefs of the years away
From the heart that is weary and faint to-day ”

“ Don't forget mother who loveth you so!
And here is her kiss on your weepydeep eyes,
⁠And here is her kiss on your peachypink cheek,
And here is her kiss for the dreamland that lies
Like a babe on the breast of those far-away skies
⁠Which you seek—
The blinkywink garden where dreamikins grow—
So, so, rock-a-by so! ”

“ FAIR is the castle up on the hill—
Hushaby, sweet my own!
The night is fair, and the waves are still,
And the wind is singing to you and to me
In this lowly home beside the sea—
Hushaby, sweet my own!
On yonder hill is store of wealth—
Hushaby, sweet my own!
And revellers drink to a little one's health ”

“ They strewed it round upon the ground,
⁠And mocked its fragrant dying breath.
I was a mother, and I weep;
⁠I seek the rose where nestleth none—
No more is heard the singing bird—
⁠I have no little golden son! ”

“ To the fairy voices calling,
For the moon is high in the misty sky
And the honey dew is falling;
To the midnight feast in the clover bloom
The bluebells are a-ringing,
And it's "Come away to the land of fay"
That the katydid is singing. ”

“ The trolls go up and the trolls go down,
⁠Bearing their packs and singing a song;
And this is the song the hill-folk croon,
As they trudge in the light of the misty moon—
This is ever their dolorous tune:
"Gold, gold! ever more gold—
⁠Bright red gold for dearie!" ”

“ 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 just as happy as we can be,
And I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me! ”

“ Long years ago this holy time,
⁠My little one—my all to me—
⁠Sat robed in white upon my knee,
And heard the merry Christmas chime.
"Tell me, my little golden-head,
⁠If Santa Claus should come to-night,
⁠What shall he bring my baby bright,—
What treasure for my boy?" I said. ”

“ I seem to feel her hands at play,
⁠As though they gave me sportive battle.
Yes, heavenly music seems to steal
⁠Where thought of her forever lingers,
And round my heart I always feel
⁠The twining of her dimpled fingers! ”

“ Of the peach-trees abloom an’ the daisies ablow;
To think of the play in the medder an’ grove,
When little legs wrassled an’ little han’s strove;
To think of the loyalty, valor, an’ truth
Of the friendships that hallow the season of youth! ”

“ See with what hearty, noisy glee
⁠Our little ones to-night
Dance round and round our Christmas tree
⁠With pretty toys bedight.
Dearest, one voice they may not hear,
⁠One face they may not see—
Ah, what of all this Christmas cheer
⁠Cometh to you and me? ”

“ Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we!" ”

“ 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! ”

“ By my own son at last!
He trots his treason to and fro,
As only babies can,
And says he'll be his mamma's beau
When he's a "great, big man"!
You stingy boy! you've always had
A share in mamma's heart. ”

“ So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,
⁠He dreamt of the pretty toys;
And, as he was dreaming, an angel song
⁠Awakened our Little Boy Blue—
Oh! the years are many, the years are long,
⁠But the little toy friends are true! ”

“ With the fragrance and music of dreaming.
There'll be no little tired-out boy to undress,
No questions or cares to perplex you;
There'll be no little bruises or bumps to caress,
Nor patching of stockings to vex you. ”

“ Suppose, when you've been bad some day
And up to bed are sent away
⁠From mother and the rest—
Suppose you ask, Who has been bad?"
⁠And then you'll hear what's true;
For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone:
"Yoooooooo! ”

“ Waiting for me to come, I see
⁠'Twas better he should wait, not I.
For when I walk the vale of death,
⁠Above the wail of Jordan's flow
Shall rise a song that shall make me strong–
⁠The call of the child that was first to go. ”

“ I love you so—
You are too young to know it now,
But some time you shall know.
Some time, when, in a darkened place
Where others come to weep,
Your eyes shall see a weary face
Calm in eternal sleep ”

“ Of that waddling, toddling, coddling little mite,
⁠Luddy-Dud."
The bird to the tossing clover,
⁠The bee to the swaying bud,
Keep singing that sweet song over
⁠Of wee little Luddy-Dud.
⁠"'T is little Luddy-Dud in the morning—
⁠'T is little Luddy-Dud at night;
⁠And all day long
⁠'T is the same dear song
Of that growing, crowing, knowing little sprite,
⁠Luddy-Dud!"
Luddy-Dud's cradle is swinging
⁠Where softly the night winds blow,
And Luddy-Dud's mother is singing
⁠A song that is sweet and low:
⁠"'T is little Luddy-Dud in the morning—
⁠'T is little Luddy-Dud at night ”

“ With a flood of moonbeams rocking thee—
A silver boat in a golden sea,
⁠My velvet love, my nestling dove,
⁠My own pomegranate blossom!
The stork shall guard thee passing well
⁠All night, my sweet! my dimple-feet! ”

“ WHEN our babe he goeth walking in his garden,
⁠Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play;
⁠The posies they are good to him,
⁠And bow them as they should to him,
⁠As fareth he upon his kingly way;
⁠And birdlings of the wood to him
⁠Make music, gentle music, all the day,
When our babe he goeth walking in his garden. ”

“ HUSH, little one, and fold your hands—
⁠The sun hath set, the moon is high;
The sea is singing to the sands,
⁠And wakeful posies are beguiled
By many a fairy lullaby—
⁠Hush, little child—my little child! ”

“ As scourged I went upon my way—
⁠And yet my darling smiled;
Aye, beating at my breast, he laughed—
My anguish curdled not the draught—
⁠'Twas sweet with love, my child!
The shadow of the centuries lies
Deep in thy dark and mournful eyes ”

“ THE Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street
⁠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,
⁠When she findeth you sleeping! ”

“ A little peach of emerald hue;
Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew,
It grew.
One day, passing that orchard through,
That little peach dawned on the view
Of Johnny Jones and his Sister Sue—
Them two. ”

“ A beautiful web of silver light
Wherein is many a wondrous sight
Of a radiant garden leagues away,
Where the softly tinkling lilies sway
And the snow-white lambkins are at play—
⁠Heigho, my dearie! ”

“ While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
(Now mind: I'm only telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)
The Chinese plate looked very blue,
And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!"
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
Employing every tooth and claw
In the awfullest way you ever saw—
And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew! ”

“ Wouldst thou exchange thy lot
⁠At price of such a woe?
I'll nest no more above thy door,
⁠But, as thou bidst me, go.
Cobbler.
Nay, stork! thou shalt remain—
⁠I mean not what I said;
Good neighbors we must always be,
⁠So make thy home o'erhead. ”

“ THE fire upon the hearth is low,
⁠And there is stillness everywhere,
⁠And, like wing'd spirits, here and there
The firelight shadows fluttering go.
And as the shadows round me creep,
⁠A childish treble breaks the gloom,
⁠And softly from a further room
Comes: "Now I lay me down to sleep." ”

“ It might have been the wind that sighed,
And yet I thought I heard you say:
"Seek not the ills beyond those hills—
Oh, stay with me, my children, stay!"
See, I've come back; the boy you knew
Is wiser, older, sadder grown ”

“ And the sugar-plums tumble, of course, to the ground—
⁠Hurrah for that chocolate cat!
There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes,
⁠With stripings of scarlet or gold,
And you carry away of the treasure that rains
⁠As much as your apron can hold! ”

“ Come, my little one, with me there—
'Tis a goodly train of cars—
All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!
Swifter than a wild bird's flight,
Through the realms of fleecy light
We shall speed and speed away!
Let the Night in envy frown—
What care we
How wroth she be! ”

“ 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 ring,
And she won't keep still till she's had her fill—
⁠The cunnin' little thing!
When baby goes a-walking,
⁠Oh, how her paddies fly! ”

“ The rich little lady from over the way
Has beautiful dolls in vast array;
Yet she envies the raggedy home-made doll
She hears our little Miss Brag extol.
For the raggedy doll can fear no hurt
From wet, or heat, or tumble, or dirt! ”

“ Should with the night renounce its care
⁠And lend itself to children's play!
Oh, girls are girls, and boys are boys,
⁠And have been so since Abel's birth,
And shall be so till dolls and toys
⁠Are with the children swept from earth. ”

“ Hath become so dear to me
⁠That I count as passing sweet
⁠All the pain her moods impart,
⁠And I bless the little feet
⁠That go trampling on my heart:
Ah, how lonely life would be
But for little Sans-Merci! ”