The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1895-12-05
WHY THEY LOVED Hin.
Eugene Field and His WOrk-Why His
LuIlabys are Sung in l1il1ions OF
Story.
Felicity fOhio) Tines
Story.

! any DINER man. his name was LuSeHC
Field.
con the evening before his death,
says one OF his intimate personal friends,
she stood at a window of his transcen-
IDENTITY beautiful and happy suburban
home, and, looking out into the early
November dusk, and at the falling
leaves, he said, This is the dying time
Of the year, and with sad little smile
he turned away. In few hours he was
| dead"
If the power to portray life in sim
| pie, sweet and beautiful works; if the
| power TO write that which would bring
tears 70 the eyes Of strong man; If the
| power to make children love him and
be happy constitutes greatness, then,
| indeed, was Eugene Field a great writer
and a great poet. But short time
ago such an authority as Charles A.
Dana, in naming the four greatest llv-
ing American writer's, placed the name
Of Eugene Field first in the list.
He lived and wrote among his peO-
pie, and perhaps they did not appreci-
ate him then at his real worth, but in
England and Germany, whence he
could be seen at a distance, he doomed
far above the other present figures OF
American literature, and was conceded
great. He died at IS, when it might
be fairly said that he was not even yet
at the height Of his powers, and when
it seemed that for years his beautiful,
homely words would come forth to
cheer and uplft those that sorrowed
and needed comfort
Children owed him. That he loved
children nee IS no saying. No one
whose heart { id not 20 out to children
could ha c written what he wrote.
Millions ore the homes in which his
| poems Of childhood have sOOthed the
little ones to sleep, aud have brough,
comfort to fathers and mothers who
felt what only he could put in words
They say Eugene Field is dead. He
is not dead. The earthly body il
which he lived awhile is put away from
sight, but the gentle and loving spirit
1t contained will not depart. 1t live:
and breathcs and speaks in the word:
he has left behind, and they will neve1
die.
Now that he has passed from ou
earthly VISION it becomes a melancholy
pleasure to give place to some exam
pies Of the work that make him grea
and dearly beloved wherever Civiliza
ton reaches. The first one of the three
satJolned poems has fearful signih
canoe because it was written direCtl,
after the death of his little son, anC
now that has gone to 81 tile Boz
Blue 1t IS doubly dear, sweet and pa
thetlc. Its homely sentiment will fine
responsive echo in the inner.nost hear
of every fond and loving parent, ant
but the smallest few will read the line
without realizing desire to press thei
own "llttle Boy Blue" more tenderl,
and lovingly to their bosoms.
LITTLE BOY BLUE
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and staunch he stands:
And he little toy soldier is red with rust
And his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy was new,
-, And the soldle: was passing fair;
That was the time when Little Boy Blu
Missed them and pat them there.
Now don't you 90 till | come" lie said
And don't you make any noise"
50, toddllng off to his trundle bed,
lie dreampt of the pretty toys.
And, as he was dreaming, an angel son
Awakened our Little Boy Blue;
On. the years are many, the years are Ions
But the little boy friends are true
Aye, faithful TO Little Boy Blue they stane
Each in the same Cid place.
Awaiting the touch of little hand.
The smile of little face.
| And they WOnder-aS waiting the Ion
years thro'
In the dustof that little chair
+ what has become of our Little Boy Blue
Since he kissed them and put them Their
WITH TRUMPET AND DRUM
With big tin trumpet and little red drum
Marching like soldiers the children com,
1t this way and that way they circle an
file
My, but that music of theirs is fine,
This way and that way, and after awhi
lhey march straight into this heart
sturdy old heart, but it has to succun
10 the blare of that trumpet and beat
that drum
e Come on. little people from cot and fro
4 This heart it hath welcome and room f
d 1t Will sing you its songs and warm ye
with 10 e,
As your De little arms with my arm
intertw.fa
1t Will rock you away to the dreamlar
Oh, jolly old heart is this old heart
mine,
g And jolliel still is it bound to become
" hen You blow that big trumpet and be
that red drum,
30 come; though | see not his dear lit
face
n And hear not his voice in this iubila
place,
| know he We're happy to bid me enshri
It Ills memory deep in my heart with 20
Il All me! hrt a love that is sweeter tn;
c mine
lIoldeth my boy in its keeping today.
And nv heart is lonely->o little fol
come,
March i'll a I'd make merry with trump
and drum,
AT THE DOOR.
: l thought myself indeed secure
- fast the door 50 firm the lock;
But To- TIE toddlinC comes to lure
IL My parent ear with timorous knock.
:, My hea We stone could it withstand
! ii SWEET e>S of my baby'S plea
lg That timorou>, baby knocking and
: Please let ME in-its only me-"
at | threw aside the unfinished book.
kegarul' : of its tempting charms,
And. opening wide the door, took
It My laughing darling in my arms
Who knows but in Eternity.
|. like truant child shall wait
The glories of a life to be.