Little Boy Blue

Little Boy Blue, with his bright red horn, 
Went out in the early summer morn 
To watch the sheep, the cows, and the corn.

And he blew a long blast, clear and shrill;
And Echo, far away on a hill,
Caught it, and tossed it till all was still.

And Boy Blue laughed as he heard it die, 
Like a lark-song lost in the deep blue sky:
"I'll send you another," he said, "by and by."

Oh, how he ran with his nimble feet, 
When Brindle, guessing that corn was sweet, 
Would twist off a leaf, with her tongue, to eat!

And he wound his horn like a Robin Hood, 
To scurry the sheep that came from the wood 
To see if the meadow-grass was good.

When the cows fed soberly on in their place, 
And the silly sheep had gone their ways, 
The butterflies gave him many a chase;

Till, tired of watching, and tired of play, 
He just sat down by the sweet new hay, 
But still he watched in a drowsy way.

Ah well! I know, I know it is true,— 
But you mustn't scold my little Boy Blue, — 
He was fast asleep before he knew.

Out of his fingers the bright red horn
Has slipped, and there's mischief there in the corn, 
And the grass of the meadow is trampled and torn.

Caught napping, like many an older one!
Kiss him awake; let him pipe and run;
Wiser next time, he will leave his fun, 
And save his strength till his work is done.