The grown-up sister is kissing his face, And calling him "angel" and "sweet," And the maiden aunt is nursing the boots He wore on his restless feet.
So big, so solemn the old house seems— No uproar, no racket, no din, No shrill peal of laughter, no voice shrieking out, "O sakes! I wish I was a twin!"
A man and a woman white with grief Watch the wearisome moments creep— Oh! the loneliness touches everything, The boy of the house is asleep!
SLY BOY.
I was the slyest boy at home, The slyest boy at school, I wanted all the world to know That I was no one's fool.
I kept my childish hopes and schemes Locked closely in my breast, No single secret shared with Bob, The chum I liked the best.
I never showed my squirrel's nest, Nor beaver dam, nor cave, Nor fortress where I used to go To be a soldier brave.
Oh, I was sly, just awful sly, In winter, summer, spring, While Bob would tell me all he knew, I never told a thing.