Perhaps the first poem that "hit me" as a child was Eugene Field's "Little Boy Blue." Sad, sentimental, syrupy......a true tear jerker.......and let's face it, a bit hokey or so I thought as I grew older.

But then only a few years back, Karen and I were walking through the cemetery where my family is buried and stumbled upon the children's section. Its an old cemetery and there were probably close to two hundred graves filled with the remains of the unrealized hopes and dreams of loving parents. On a great majority of headstones there were toys, little trucks, stuffed animals..........Sad in and of itself but when I saw that many of these were new and on graves that were sometimes 50 or more years old, neither Karen nor I could hold it together. Can you imagine bringing gifts to your long dead child on a regular basis? I don't know what that kind of pain is like but we stood holding each other tightly as we cried and realized how lucky we were.

Little Boy Blue
by Eugene Field (1850-1895)

The little toy dog is covered with dust,
   But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
   And his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
   And the soldier was passing fair;
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
   Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
   "And don't you make any noise!"
So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,
   He dreamt of the pretty toys;
And, as he was dreaming, an angel song
   Awakened our Little Boy Blue---
Oh! the years are many, the years are long,
   But the little toy friends are true!

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.

Spaw