Toys and Life

You can learn a lot from boys

By the way they use their toys;

Some are selfish in their care,

Never very glad to share

Playthings with another boy;

Seem to want to hoard their joy.

And they hide away the drum

For the days that never come;

Hide the train of cars and skates,

Keeping them from all their mates,

And run all their boyhood through

With their toys as good as new.

Others gladly give and lend,

Heedless that the tin may bend,

Caring not that drum-heads break,

Minding not that playmates take

To themselves the joy that lies

In the little birthday prize.

And in homes that house such boys

Always there are broken toys,

Symbolizing moments glad

That the youthful lives have had.

There you'll never find a shelf

Dedicated unto self.

Toys are made for children's fun,

Very frail and quickly done,

And who keeps them long to view,

Bright of paint and good as new,

Robs himself and other boys

Of their swiftly passing joys.

So he looked upon a toy

When our soldier was a boy;

And somehow to-day we're glad

That the tokens of our lad

And the trinkets that we keep

Are a broken, battered heap.

Life itself is but a toy

Filled with duty and with joy;

Not too closely should we guard

Our brief time from being scarred;

Never high on musty shelves

Should we hoard it for ourselves.

It is something we should share

In another's hour of care —

Something we should gladly give

That another here may live;

We should never live it through

Keeping it as good as new.