The Jumbler, like Foss, loses a boy. I have a friend called "Buster"— A little child last Fall— But now he's grown so very big I scarce know him at all. Almost a man! His folks are proud And fairly beam with joy; But I—I feel I'd rather cry; For I—I've lost my boy. No more he'll perch upon my knee And ask me to relate How Li Chi Fair and Chang-the-Good Were saved from saddest fate. And Jelly Jar and Big Black Bear He'll treat with sneering scorn And say, "Now please do stop and think How long since I was born." Time flies so fast it takes my breath! Soon he'll forget it all— The rhymes we wrote, the games we played, None, none will he recall. The world may praise him as a MAN— God knows I wish him joy— But I—I'll brush away a tear And long for Buster Boy. Decorative divider |