The reason be that so many a little brother
Goes wrong his life long,—for lack of kisses and mother!
How do I know but a terrible hunger
Gnaws at the hearts of motherless boys?
How do I know but ’tis that that destroys
All that is good, until boys that are younger
Than you, Boy Dumpling, make the streets sorrowful places,
And the angels weep at the look on the wee, wee faces?
But off ran selfish Dimple through the pink peach trees,—