BEATING ME HOME
Through the shady lane, ere the sun had set,
We strolled together, my boy and I;
Far above our heads, where the treetops met
And the blue sky shone through a lacy net,
The birds were singing a lullaby./And my small boy chattered, as small boys can,
Of all that he meant to do and be;
How he’d grow and grow to be a great man;
And the short arms stretched to their utmost span;
And work his hardest, and all for me.
At the end of the lane he stayed his feet,
With wistful eyes on the way that led
From the sleepy calm of the village street
To the city’s noise and the city’s heat;
“Oh, why do we never go there?” he said.
So I answered again the old demand,
The road was dusty and hard and long;
And I gathered closer…
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