HIS MEMORY

Besides my little son's imagination,

Another thing he has appeals to me

And agitates my envious admiration —

It's his accommodating memory.

An instant after some unlucky stumble

Has floored him and induced a howl of pain,

He's clean forgotten all about his tumble

And violently sets out to romp again.

But if, when I leave home, I say that maybe

I'll get him something nice while I'm away,

It's very safe to bet that Mr. Baby

Will not forget, though I be gone all day.

Ah, would I might lose sight of things unpleasant:

The bills I owe; the work I have n't done.

And only think of future joys and present,

Like the approaching payday, and my son.