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With Trumpet and Drum
by Eugene Field (1850-1895)

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!

 

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