With big tin trumpet and little red drum,
Marching like soldiers, the children come!
It ‘s this way and that way they circle and file—-
My! but that music of theirs is fine!
This way and that way, and after a while
They march straight into this heart of mine!
A sturdy old heart, but it has to succumb
To the blare of that trumpet and beat of that drum!
Come on, little people, from cot and from hall—-
This heart it hath welcome and room for you all!
It will sing you its songs and warm you with love,
As your dear little arms with my arms intertwine;
It will rock you away to the dreamland above—-
Oh, a jolly old heart is this old heart of mine,
And jollier still is it bound to become
When you blow that big trumpet and beat that red drum!
So come; though I see not his dear little face
And hear not his voice in this jubilant place,
I know he were happy to bid me enshrine
His memory deep in my heart with your play—-
Ah me! but a love that is sweeter than mine
Holdeth my boy in its keeping to-day!
And my heart it is lonely—-so, little folk, come,
March in and make merry with trumpet and drum!
(Eugene Field)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Place Poems, People Poems, Children Poems, Soldiers PoemsBased on Keywords: play-, intertwine, above-, dreamland, holdeth, succumb, enshrine, hall-, jollier, lonely-, file-