“One Of The Boys”

ONE OF THE BOYS
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He is way beyond fifty, his hair’s turning gray
But still he can laugh in the folliest way:
He hasn’t forgotten the fun in a jest:
He tells the old stories with heartlest zest,
He knows all the new ones; he likes lots of noise-
Somehow he has managed to stay with the boys

Why, he can get up in the gray of the dawn
And be out on the road ere the others have gone
With his pole and his line-and he laughs long and deep
At the ones who say morning’s the best time to sleep
He is out with the them peers boys, aud not one of
At the wrinkles and crow’s feet that tell of his yea years

He is ready to romp, or to hunt, or to ride-
He has never ant silent and moody, and sighed
Over vanishing youth or the days of his past
For he says that the days of the boytime can Inst
Just as long as we will, that we never need part
With the wonderful thrill that they give to the heart

He will lle on his back in the shade of the trees
And declare that he knows what is sung by the bees
And be mimics the whistles and calls of the birds
Which, he says, if he liked, he could put Into words
He would rather spend hours on the banks of the brook
Where the berries are red, than be reading a book

He is way beyond fifty, and folks think he ought
To devote lots of time to more serious thought- But they wonder at him, and they envy him, too
For he’s living today all the days they once knew:
He has never lost touch with the chiefest of joys
He has kept a young heart-he is one of the boys
-Wilbur D Nesbit