Little Son

Little Son
581-5

When twilight shakes her hourglass at the sun.
And fairies froin their poppled fastness flee,
Then, little boy, with empty arms I wait
To sing you: “Bobby Shafto’s gone to sea.”

I like to think that up among the stars
We used to count ‘twixt dusk and Land of Nod
You listen still at even for my song
There in the shadow of the hand of God.

I like to feel that still you watch my ways
And, hand in hand go with me, just as when
We saw a thousand wonders in one flower.
Flaunting our joy before the eyes of men.

For that brief time I offer thanks. It sends
Its radiance down the years to guide me on:
And at the last, sing me our lullaby
And I will hear and listen, little son.
—Percy L. Shaw, In American Magazine.