Poems (Piatt)/Volume 1/The Little Boy I Dreamed about

by Sarah Piatt

THE LITTLE BOY I DREAMED ABOUT. [TO ANOTHER LITTLE BOY.]

This is the only world I know—
 It is in this same world, no doubt.
Ah me, but I could love him so,
 If I could only find him out,—
 The Little Boy I dreamed about!

This Little Boy, who never takes
 The prettiest orange he can see,
The reddest apple, all the cakes
 (When there are twice enough for three,)—
 Where can the darling ever be?

He does not tease and storm and pout
 To climb the roof, in rain or sun,
And pull the pigeon's feathers out
 To see how it will look with none,
 Or fight with hornets—one to one!

He does not hide, and cut his hair,
 And wind the watches wrong, and cry
To throw the kitten down the stair
 And see how often it can die.
 (It's strange that you can wonder why!)

He never wakes too late to know
 A bird is singing near his bed:
He tells the tired moon: "You may go
 To sleep yourself." He never said,
 When told to do a thing, "Tell Fred!"

If I say "Go," he will not stay
 To lose his hat, or break a toy;
Then hurry like the wind away,
 And whistle like the wind for joy,
 To please himself—this Little Boy.

Let any stranger come who can,
 He will not say—though it be true—
"Old Lady" (or "Old Gentleman"),
 "I wish you would go home, I do;
 I think my mama wants you to!"

—No, Fairyland is far and dim:
 He does not play in silver sand;
But if I could believe in him
 I could believe in Fairyland,
 Because———you do not understand.

Dead—dead? Somehow I do not know.
 The sweetest children die. We may
Miss some poor footprint from the snow,
 That was his very own to-day———
 "God's will" is what good Christians say.

Like you, or you, or you can be
 When you are good, he looks, no doubt.
I'd give—the goldenest star I see
 In all the dark to find him out,
 The Little Boy I dreamed about!