A Poem for a Thursday #120

Eugene Field was an American poet who lived in the late 1800s. He was often called the “poet of childhood.” His poetry tends to be a bit sentimental for the modern reader; the poem Little Boy Blue is about toys waiting on the shelf for their young owner who has died. However, it was very popular in his day and Little Boy Blue was one of his most requested readings. While much of his poetry was aimed at children he did privately print some ribald poetry designed for a male audience. Field also worked as a journalist for a number of newspapers. If you want a bonus poem for the day go read Wynken, Blynken, and Nod by Field. I remember that poem from my childhood.

Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse--
Perhaps you have seen him before;
Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept
Through the moonlight that floats on the floor.
For it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright,
That the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh
And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane,
Is up on his heels and away!
The moon in the sky,
As he gallopeth by,
Cries:  "Oh! What a marvelous sight!"
And the Stars in dismay
Hide their faces away
In the lap of old Grandmother Night.

It is yonder, out yonder, the Fly-Away Horse
Speedeth ever and ever away--
Over meadows and lane, over mountains and plains,
Over streamlets that sing at their play;
And over the sea like a ghost sweepth he,
While the ships they go sailing below,
And he speedeth so fast that the men on the mast
Adjudge him, some portent of woe.
"What ho, there!" they cry,
As he flourishes by
With a whisk of his beautiful tail;
And the fish in the sea
Are as scared as can be,
from the nautilus up to the whale!

And the Fly-Away Horse seeks those far-away lands
You little folk dream of at night--
Where candy-trees grow, and honey-brooks flow,
And corn-fields with popcorn are white;
And the beasts in the wood are ever so good
To children who visit them there--
What glory astride of a lion to ride,
Or to wrestle around with a bear!
The monkeys, they say: 
"Come on, let us play,"
And they frisk in the coconut-trees:
While the parrots, they cling
To the peanut-vines sing
Or converse with comparative ease!

Off! scamper to bed--you shall ride hime to-night! 
For, as soon as you've fallen asleep,
With a jubilant neigh he shall bear you away
Over forest and hillside and deep!
But tell us, my dear, all you see and you hear
In those beautiful lands over there,
Where the Fly-Away Horse wings his far-away course
With the wee one consigned to his care.
Then grandma will cry
In amazement: "Oh, my!"
And she'll think it could never be so.
And only we two
Shall know it is true--
You and I, little precious! shall know!

The Fly-Away Horse
Eugene Field