THE ETERNAL GREETING

What is the welcoming word I hear
When I reach home at the close of day?
"Glad you are with us, daddy, dear?"
Something I'd like to hear you say?
No, it is this, invariably:
"Daddy, what have you got for me?"
"Deep affection," I might reply;
What would it profit if I did?
I might answer: "The price to buy
Clothes and edibles for you, kid."
You would repeat, insistently:
"Daddy, what have you got for me?"
Isn't my Self enough for you?
Doesn't my Presence satisfy?
No, that spelling would never do;
You want Presents, a new supply,
When you inquire so eagerly:
"Daddy, what have you got for me?"
'Twould be much nicer and cheaper, son,
If I were welcome without a toy,
But as I'm not, I must purchase one
And take my reward from your look of joy
When you open the bundle and cry: "O, see!
See what daddy has got for me!"


GUESS AGAIN


"I guess I'll help you, daddy."
And daddy can't say "No;"
For if he did, 'twould wound you, kid,
And cause the tears to flow.
"I guess I'll help you, daddy."
And daddy says: "All right,"
And tries to do, ignoring you,
Whatever work's in sight.
But what's the use of trying?
As well be reconciled
To quit and play the game that may
Be pleasing to you, child.
To quit and play, or roughhouse,
Or read, as you elect;
For I'm afraid the guess you made
Was wholly incorrect.

NEARLY A SINECURE

"I'm going to the office."
So says my youngster, and
Gets on the train to take him there
(The train's the sofa or a chair,
Whichever's near at hand.)
"Now I am to the office.
I'm working now," says he,
And just continues standing there
On that same lounge or that same chair,
As idle as can be.
Perhaps four seconds after
He first got on his train,
I see him getting off once more.
He steps or falls onto the floor
And says, "I'm home again."
I don't know what they pay him,
Nor where the office is.
The nature of the boy's posish
I've never learned—but how I wish
I had that job of his!

THE HECKUSES

That may not be the proper way
To spell their name; I cannot say.
I've never seen 'em written out:
I've only heard 'em talked about.
They're coming here tonight to dine,
So says that little son of mine.
But all last week, 'twas just the same;
They were to come, and never came.
And I'm just skeptical enough
To think they're all a myth, a bluff;
Mere creatures of my youngster's brain,
Whose coming he'll await in vain.
And yet to him they're very real.
They own a big black auto'bile.
They work downtown, and they'll arrive
Out here at one-two-three-four-five.
The Heckuses are four all told.
There's Mrs. H. who's very old,
And Baby Heckus, and a lad
Named Tom, and Bill, the Heckus dad.
Beyond this point I can't describe
The fascinating Heckus tribe.
I can but wonder how he came
To think of such a lovely name.

HIS FAVORITE ROLE

You could be president as well as not,
Since all you'd have to do is think you were,
With that imagination that you've got;
Or multimillionaire if you prefer,
Or you could be some famous football star,
Or Tyrus Cobb, admired by ev'ry fan;
Instead of that, you tell me that you are
The Garbage Man.
Why pick him out, when you can take your choice?
Is his so charming, nice, and sweet a role
That acting it should make you to rejoice
And be a source of comfort to your soul?
Is there some hidden happiness that he
Uncovers in his march from can to can
That you above all else should want to be
The Garbage Man?