{"id":3211,"date":"2021-02-18T10:41:16","date_gmt":"2021-02-18T15:41:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/?p=3211"},"modified":"2021-02-18T10:41:32","modified_gmt":"2021-02-18T15:41:32","slug":"a-poem-for-a-thursday-120","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2021\/02\/18\/a-poem-for-a-thursday-120\/","title":{"rendered":"A Poem for a Thursday #120"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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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<\/em> 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 <\/em>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<\/em> by Field. I remember that poem from my childhood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse--\nPerhaps you have seen him before;\nPerhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept\nThrough the moonlight that floats on the floor.\nFor it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright,\nThat the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh\nAnd a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane,\nIs up on his heels and away!\nThe moon in the sky,\nAs he gallopeth by,\nCries:  \"Oh! What a marvelous sight!\"\nAnd the Stars in dismay\nHide their faces away\nIn the lap of old Grandmother Night.\n\nIt is yonder, out yonder, the Fly-Away Horse\nSpeedeth ever and ever away--\nOver meadows and lane, over mountains and plains,\nOver streamlets that sing at their play;\nAnd over the sea like a ghost sweepth he,\nWhile the ships they go sailing below,\nAnd he speedeth so fast that the men on the mast\nAdjudge him, some portent of woe.\n\"What ho, there!\" they cry,\nAs he flourishes by\nWith a whisk of his beautiful tail;\nAnd the fish in the sea\nAre as scared as can be,\nfrom the nautilus up to the whale!\n\nAnd the Fly-Away Horse seeks those far-away lands\nYou little folk dream of at night--\nWhere candy-trees grow, and honey-brooks flow,\nAnd corn-fields with popcorn are white;\nAnd the beasts in the wood are ever so good\nTo children who visit them there--\nWhat glory astride of a lion to ride,\nOr to wrestle around with a bear!\nThe monkeys, they say: \n\"Come on, let us play,\"\nAnd they frisk in the coconut-trees:\nWhile the parrots, they cling\nTo the peanut-vines sing\nOr converse with comparative ease!\n\nOff! scamper to bed--you shall ride hime to-night! \nFor, as soon as you've fallen asleep,\nWith a jubilant neigh he shall bear you away\nOver forest and hillside and deep!\nBut tell us, my dear, all you see and you hear\nIn those beautiful lands over there,\nWhere the Fly-Away Horse wings his far-away course\nWith the wee one consigned to his care.\nThen grandma will cry\nIn amazement: \"Oh, my!\"\nAnd she'll think it could never be so.\nAnd only we two\nShall know it is true--\nYou and I, little precious! shall know!\n\nThe Fly-Away Horse\nEugene Field<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3212,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3211","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poem-for-a-thursday"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3211","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3211"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3211\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3214,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3211\/revisions\/3214"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3212"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3211"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3211"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3211"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}