An Outrage

White clover blooms, and roses red,

    And green leaves wet with dew,

My tenny-weeny touslehead,

    Are "biolets" to you;

And so you pick them right and left,

    And you seem loth to stop;

It seems to give you wondrous joy

    To pick "botays for pop."

 

You know that other, other day

    You toddled to my door,

And called out: "Papa’s baby’s here,"

    And stamped, and stamped the floor

With your wee feet, to make me come

    And ope to let you in?

I guess you have forgotten it;

    I hope so. ‘Twas a sin!

 

And I sat still and read my book

    Until you quiet grew;

A story had me so absorbed

    I gave no though to you!

And, when at last I oped my door,

    You lay between the rooms

All fast asleep, and in your fist

    A bunch of clover blooms!

 

The tears were half dried on your cheeks;

    You sighed, dear, as you slept;

And, dear, remorse quite filled my heart,

    I knelt and could have wept!

I kissed you where you lay asleep

    With tear-stained face and sad,

And in you sleep you gulped and sighed:

    "’Em’s a botay for dad!"

 

And if I do that way again,

    Dear baby mine, by you,

When I knock on the pearly gates

    May God not let me through!

I’m glad you have forgotten it,

    And love your daddy yet;

If I should live a thousand years

    I never will forget!

 

Lilts O Love Table Of Contents