  SCRUB out his freckles, ’twas Nature who gave ’em; Silence his whistle and comb out his hair, Muffle his footsteps, for People—Lord save ’em em— Want something noiseless and soulless and fair; Bleach out the spots where the Summer sun kissed him, Still all the tunes and the bird calls he knew, Then, when he’s boy no more, who could resist him? Sun and the Wind, here’s a lesson for you. Sun and the Wind and the freshness of showers, How could you tempt him to revel and roam Past the long hedges and through the wild flowers? Did you not know it would cost him a home? Did you not know when the gay bluebird glistened Up on the bough and with wonder he rose, Rose with his heart beating glad, as he listened, Did you not know it would freckle his nose? Hide your heads, Daisies, that wave over yonder, Gleam in the sunlight and dance by the creek, You bade him leave the pale shadow and wander— Did you not know he might freckle his cheek? Did you not tempt him with glad song and free? Why did you not let him learn through your singing He would be outcast through following thee? Heartless blackberries, you led him from shelter; Nuts, without shame, you did bid him to climb; Butterflies bright, that he chased helter-skelter, Have you no shame for the depths of your crime? What if the heart of him beats but the truer, What if the soul of him still sweeter grows, What if the eyes of him sparkle the truer, Do you not see you have freckled his nose? Scrub out the freckles—oh, well, doesn’t matter; Maybe they’ll wash out with plentiful tears; Muffle his footsteps, that no boyish patter Rise to offend supersensitive ears; Bid him not whistle the songs the fields taught him, Let him be pale, still, anaemic, and thin, Teach him and bleach him, and when you have got him Thoroughly colorless, let him come in! |
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