The Lonely Little Boy

From the Rock Island Argus, May 12, 1913.
 By S. E. Kiser.
 

 The little boy whom you forget
     To play with when the days are fair
 The child whose hopes are sinless yet
     Who kneels to lisp his evening prayer
 Will soon leave off his childish ways
     And learn the things that men must learn;
 Why do you waste the precious days
     That never, never can return?
 
 You never lead him by the hand
     Nor make his little joys your own
 Ambition sends you her command
     And he is left to play alone;
 He never climbs upon your knee
     Delighted at the long day’s end
 To find that you have time to be
     His fond and sympathetic friend.
 
 You never can afford to waste
     A precious hour arousing him
 The prizes after which you haste
     Are always far away and dim;
 You must be ever pressing on
     Forgetting, while you strive and plan
 How soon his childhood will be gone
     How quickly he will be a man.
 
 You never pause with him to hear
     The breeze that sings among the reeds
 You have no time to give the dear
     Sweet sympathy for which he pleads;
 You never rush with him in wild
     Pursuit of fairies through the glen
 Yourself again a careless child
     Freed from the cares that worry men.
 
 Have you no treasured memories
     Of one who gladly played with you
 Before you had been robbed of ease
     And when your cares were small and few?
 Ah, will you rob him of the joy
     Of looking back along the years
 When he has ceased to be a boy
     And Duty’s call rings in his ears?
 
 The little boy whom you forget
     To play with when the days are fair
 The child whose thoughts are sinless yet
     Who kneels to lisp his evening prayer
 Will soon leave off his childish ways
     And you will sit somewhere alone
 Regretting precious wasted days
     And joys that might have been your own.