EUGENE FIELD LITTLE BOY BLUE The little toy dog is covered with dust, And the little toy soldier is red with rust, Time was when the little toy dog was new, And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue "Now, don't you go till I come," he said, Oh! the years are many, the years are long, Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand, Each in the same old place, Awaiting the touch of a little hand, The smile of a little face; And they wonder, as waiting the long years through In the dust of that little chair, What has become of our Little Boy Blue, Since he kissed them and put them there. EDWIN MARKHAM 'THE MAN WITH THE HOE Written after seeing the painting by Millet God made man in His own image, in the image of God made Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans And on his back the burden of the world. Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw? Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow? 15 Whose breath blew out the light within this brain? Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave To trace the stars and search the heavens for power; 20 Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns And pillared the blue firmament with light? Down all the caverns of Hell to their last gulf More tongued with censure of the world's blind greed25 More filled with signs and portents for the soul -More fraught with menace to the universe. What gulfs between him and the seraphim! 1 Copyright, 1922, by Edwin Markham. What the long reaches of the peaks of song, O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, Is this the handiwork you give to God, 10 This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched? Give back the upward looking and the light; O masters, lords, and rulers of the lands, |