THE BOY FOR MOTHER AND ME.
His cap is old, but his hair is gold,
And his face is as clear as the sky;
And whoever he meets, on lanes or streets,
He looks him straight in the eye,
With a fearless pride that has naught to hide,
Tho he bows like a little knight,
Quite debonair, to a lady fair,
With a smile that is swift as the light. Does his mother call? No kite nor ball
Nor the prettiest game, can stay
His eager feet as he hastes to greet
Whatever she has to say;
And the teachers depend on this little friend
At school in his place at nine,
With his lessons learned and his good marks earned,
All ready to toe the line. I wonder if you have seen him too,—
This boy, who is not too big
For a morning kiss from mother and sis,
Who isn't a bit of a prig?
He's gentle, and strong, and the whole day long
As merry as a boy can be,—
A gentleman, dears, in the coming years,
And at present the boy for me.—Anon.