Verse > Anthologies > Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. > The Little Book of Modern Verse
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Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948).  The Little Book of Modern Verse.  1917.
 
21. Da Leetla Boy
 
By Thomas Augustine Daly
 
 
DA spreeng ees com’! but oh, da joy
  Eet ees too late!
He was so cold, my leetla boy,
  He no could wait.
 
I no can count how manny week,        5
How manny day, dat he ees seeck;
How manny night I seet an’ hold
Da leetla hand dat was so cold.
He was so patience, oh, so sweet!
Eet hurts my throat for theenk of eet;        10
An’ all he evra ask ees w’en
Ees gona com’ da spreeng agen.
Wan day, wan brighta sunny day,
He see, across da alleyway,
Da leetla girl dat’s livin’ dere        15
Ees raise her window for da air,
An’ put outside a leetla pot
Of—w’at-you-call?—forgat-me-not.
So smalla flower, so leetla theeng!
But steell eet mak’ hees hearta seeng:        20
“Oh, now, at las’, ees com’ da spreeng!
Da leetla plant ees glad for know
Da sun ees com’ for mak’ eet grow.
So, too, I am grow warm and strong.”
So lika dat he seeng hees song.        25
But, Ah! da night com’ down an’ den
Da weenter ees sneak back agen,
An’ een da alley all da night
Ees fall da snow, so cold, so white,
An’ cover up da leetla pot        30
Of—wa’t-you-call?—forgat-me-not.
All night da leetla hand I hold
Ees grow so cold, so cold, so cold!
 
Da spreeng ees com’; but oh, da joy
  Eet ees too late!        35
He was so cold, my leetla boy,
  He no could wait.
 

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