 | A little book of tribune verse |  |
23
THE TRUANT.
It was a bright and genial day,
When, tempted by the open gate
And by a little truant mate,
Our Baby Willie ran away;
And prompted by each varying fear,
Impelled by agonized alarm
That he, perchance, might come to harm,
We hunted for him far and near.
When, tempted by the open gate
And by a little truant mate,
Our Baby Willie ran away;
And prompted by each varying fear,
Impelled by agonized alarm
That he, perchance, might come to harm,
We hunted for him far and near.
Yet all in vain his baby name
We called and called with no reply,
Till with the sunset in the sky,
Back to his home the baby came.
Poor, tired child, how glad he crept
Into his mother's arms and said,
“I'm glad I'm home, le's do to bed!”
And oh, how peacefully he slept.
We called and called with no reply,
Till with the sunset in the sky,
Back to his home the baby came.
Poor, tired child, how glad he crept
Into his mother's arms and said,
“I'm glad I'm home, le's do to bed!”
And oh, how peacefully he slept.
“Glad I am home!” It is the cry
That many a weary wanderer gives,
When tired of the life he lives
He turns him to the wall to die.
And as I to my joyous breast
Took back my truant child that day,
So will the arms that live for aye
Receive each truant soul to rest.
That many a weary wanderer gives,
When tired of the life he lives
He turns him to the wall to die.
And as I to my joyous breast
Took back my truant child that day,
So will the arms that live for aye
Receive each truant soul to rest.
(Attributed to) Major Bowels.
December 8th, 1881.
| A little book of tribune verse | |