A Boy, a Dog, and Immortality

A staccato bark
and a small boy's laughter
danced through my flowers.

Long months after
the laugh was stilled,
the collie would wait
with hopeful eyes
at my garden gate.

When a careless gun
rang the dog's death-chime,
the small boy died a second time.

That night through star-blossoms in the sky
danced a collie's bark and a boy's glad cry.

My Little Boy Returns

My little boy came home again tonight--
My little son who stands full six-foot-three.
Within his eyes the eager, dancing light
Marks him the same dear little lad to me.
How happily he used to climb my knee
His baby hands caressing arm and face!
I see his golden curls ... Now musingly
I scan my grown son's countenance. No trace
Of babyhood is left save in his warm embrace.

Those Lovable Boys

I sing this song
To glorify those lovable small boys
With roguish imps refusing to be soothed
To stillness in the very souls of them;
With music lilting from their laughing hearts;
(The joyous hours a whistling boy recalls!)
With breeches torn from climbing over fences;
(For what lure has a gate!) with wayward hair
Smoothed down in front but left untamed behind;
With faces glowing islands in a sea
Of darker waves in front of sunburned ears
When heads were reverently bowed before each meal.
(Why wash too thoroughly when hearts are clean!)

Remembering the lads
Who grew along with me and made a game
Of each day's living, playing hard and square;
Remembering perpetual appetites
That scarce could wait for hands to be hygienic;
(That tempting bread and jam! Those boyish grins!)
Remembering all the exhuberance bottled up--
The dynamo within each childish form--
That found release in dancing feet, in hands
Swinging an axe, creating willow whistles;
In tongues that were incessant babbling brooks
With every leaf-boat thought kept shining-clean.

Remembering how perfect they could be
In church each Sabbath day ... and seeing now
Their manliness in daring think and speak
Against chaotic treadmill apathy--
Remembering all this, I dare to say
I hope I find a few such lads in Heaven.

The American Bard