Explore "Eugene Field" by O. Henry on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
No gift his genius might have had / Of titles high, in church and state, / Could charm him as the one he bore, / Of children's poet-laureate.
He smilingly pressed aside his bays / And laurel garlands that he won, / And bowed his head for baby hands / To place a daisy wreath upon.
He found his kingdom in the ways, / Of little ones he loved so well, / For them he tuned his lyre and sang. / Sweet simple songs of magic spell.
Ah! greater feat to storm the gates / Of children's pure and cleanly hearts, / Than to subdue a warring world / By stratagems and doubtful arts.
A tribute paid by chanting choirs / And pealing organs rises high; / But soft and clear, somewhere he hears / Through all, a child's low lullaby.