Bellows Falls Times

Poetry.
The Boys.
There come the boys! Oh, dear, the noise!
The whole house feels the racket;
Behold the knee of Harry's pants,
And weep o'er Bertie's jacket!
But never mind, if eyes keep bright,
And limbs grow straight and limber,
We'd rather lose the tree's whole bark
Than find unsound the timber.
Now hear the tops and marbles roll!
The floors—Oh, woe betide them!
And I must watch the bannisters,
For I know the boys who ride them!
The very chairs are tied in pairs,
And made to prance and caper:
What swords are whittled out of sticks!
What brave hats made of paper!
The dinner bell peals loud and well
To tell the milkman's coming:
And then the rush of "steam-car trains"
Set all our ears a-humming.
How oft I say, "What shall I do
To keep these children quiet?"
If I could find a good receipt,
I certainly should try it.
But what to do with these wild boys,
And all their din and clatter,
Is really quite a grave affair—
No laughing trifling matter.
"Boys will be boys"—but not for long:
Ah! could we bear about us
This thought how very soon our boys
Will learn to do without us!
How soon but tall and deep-voiced men
Will gravely call us "Mother:"
Or we be stretching empty hands
From this world to the other.
More gently we should chide the noise.
And when night quells the racket,
Stitch in but loving thoughts and prayers
While mending pants and jacket!