Eugene Field

(2 September 1850 - 4 November 1895 / St Louis / Missouri / United States)

Eugene Field Poems

1. To Ligurinus 4/9/2010
2. To Lydia 4/9/2010
3. To M.L. Gray, 4/9/2010
4. To Maecenas 4/9/2010
5. To Mary Field French 4/9/2010
6. To Mother Venus 4/9/2010
7. To Pompeius Varus 4/9/2010
8. To Quintus Dellius 4/9/2010
9. Two Idylls From Bion The Smyrnean 4/9/2010
10. To Venus 4/9/2010
11. To Quintus Hirpinus 4/9/2010
12. To The Fountain Of Bandusia 4/9/2010
13. A Christmas Wish 12/14/2015
14. Cobbler And Stork 3/31/2012
15. Ganderfeather's Gift 3/31/2012
16. Gold And Love For Dearie 3/31/2012
17. Armenian Lullaby 3/31/2012
18. Uhland's 4/9/2010
19. John Smith 4/9/2010
20. Father's Letter 3/31/2012
21. Ashes On The Slide 3/31/2012
22. Bambino (Corsican Lullaby) 3/31/2012
23. Uhland's White Stag 4/9/2010
24. The Conversazzhony 1/1/2004
25. Jewish Lullaby 3/31/2012
26. Ballad Of The Jelly-Cake 3/31/2012
27. To Leuconoee 4/9/2010
28. The Drum 1/1/2004
29. To John J. Knickerbocker, Jr. 4/9/2010
30. Doctor Rabelais 4/9/2010
31. Béranger's "Broken Fiddle" 1/1/2004
32. Chrystmasse Of Olde 1/1/2004
33. Clare Market 4/9/2010
34. Consistency 4/9/2010
35. Christmas Hymn 4/9/2010
36. Envoy 1/1/2004
37. Alaskan Balladry 4/9/2010
38. Beard And Baby 4/9/2010
39. Bethlehem-Town 4/9/2010
40. The Convalescent Gripster 4/9/2010
Best Poem of Eugene Field

Little Boy Blue

The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new
And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
"And don't you make any noise!"
So toddling off to his trundle-bed
He dreamed of the pretty toys.
And as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue,--
Oh, the years are many, the ...

Read the full of Little Boy Blue

Pan Liveth

They told me once that Pan was dead,
And so, in sooth, I thought him;
For vainly where the streamlets led
Through flowery meads I sought him--
Nor in his dewy pasture bed
Nor in the grove I caught him.
"Tell me," 'twas so my clamor ran--
"Tell me, oh, where is Pan?"

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