A HUNDRED times a day I hear
His mother say: “Don’t do that, dear!”
From early morn till dusk ’tis all
“Don’t do that, dear!” I hear her call
From the back porch and front and side
As though some evil would betide
Unless she drummed it in his ear:
“Don’t do that, dear! Don’t do that, dear!”
If he goes out and slams the door;
“Don’t do that, dear!” and if the floor
Is newly scrubbed and he comes near;
“Don’t do that, dear!” is all I hear.
If he comes romping down the stairs;
“Don’t do that, dear!” and if he wears
No coat, but hangs it somewhere near,
She sees and says: “Don’t do that, dear!”
If he goes shinning up a tree:
“Don’t do that, dear!” If he should be
Astride a roof I know I’ll hear
Her call to him: “Don’t do that, dear!”
His life is all “Don’t this,” “Don’t that,”
“Don’t loose the dog,” “Don’t chase the cat,”
“Don’t go,” “Don’t stay,” “Don’t there,” “Don’t here,”
“Don’t do that, dear!” “Don’t do that, dear!”
Sometimes he seems to me as still
As any mouse until a shrill
“Don’t do that, dear!” falls on the air
And drives him swift away from there.
So when he finds another spot:
“Don’t do that, dear!” and he says: “What?”
And she replies and cannot say say—
But—“Well, don’t do it, anyway!”
EXTINGUISHED
THE boy stood on the burning deck, whence all but him had fled”—
When Tommy Gibbs stood up to speak he had it in his head,
But when he saw the schoolroom full of visitors, he knew,
From his weak knees and parching tongue, the words had all fled, too.
“The boy stood on the burning deck”—a second time he tried,
But he forgot about the boy, or if he lived or died;
He only knew the burning deck was something nice and cool
Beside the rostrum where he stood that awful day in school.
“The boy stood on the burning deck”—he felt the flames and smoke.
His tongue was thick, his mouth was dry, he felt that he would choke.
And from the far back seats he heard a whisper run about:
“Come back here, Tom, and take your seat. They’ve put the fire out!”
THE UNCHEERED HERO
TIM Brooks he studies awful hard
And faithful all the year,
But goes out in the school house yard
And never gets a cheer;
And Billy Gibbs, he shirks and frets—
He hates to work at all—
But you should hear the cheer he gets
Because he hits the ball.