Public Domain Poetry And Stories - The Boy Next Door by Madison Julius Cawein
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The Boy Next Door

    By Madison Julius Cawein



I.

    There's a boy who lives next door;
    And this boy is just as bad
    As a boy can be; and poor!
    He's so poor it makes me sad
    When I see him. Out at knee;
    And no shoes; and, more than that,
    Hardly any shirt or hat.
    He's as poor as Poverty.

II.

    But I like him; yes, I do.
    He can play 'most any game,
    And tell fairy stories, too;
    Funny stories, just the same
    As my father does. And he
    Told me one about a frog,
    Living near a lake or bog,
    Frog that married a bumblebee.

III.

    And another of Jumping Joan
    And Hink Minx, the old witch that
    Sits before the fire alone
    Frying fat for her black cat.
    And of Craney Crow; her dog
    And her chicken. But the best,
    One I like more than the rest,
    'S that one of the bee and frog.

IV.

    Well, the bumblebee would sing
    All day long; and all the night
    Sang the old frog; till the thing,
    So folks said, was done in spite,
    Just to keep the flowers awake:
    One a rose, a brier-rose;
    And the other, one of those
    Lilies that grow in a lake.

V.

    All day long the bee would prod
    At the rose and buzz and keep
    Shaking it; it couldn't nod,
    Much less ever go to sleep:
    Humming to it, "Don't you hear?
    I'm so happy! Can't you be
    Just a little neighborly?
    Ain't my froggie just a dear?"

VI.

    And the frog all night would sing
    To the water-lily; while
    On the pad he'd sit or cling,
    On his face an ear-wide smile,
    Croaking, "Listen! have you heard
    All about my bouncing bee?
    Don't you wish that you were she?
    I'm as happy as a bird!"

VII.

    Then the water-lily'd yawn,
    And the rose would bat its eyes:
    One would say, "It's nearly dawn.
    Better sleep. So I advise."
    And the other, "Jumping Jim!
    That old frog's a wonder! made
    Just for you. Can't I persuade
    You to sing your songs to him?"

VIII.

    Finally it got so bad
    That the rose and lily agreed
    They would fix them. Both were mad
    And just dying to be freed
    From this tuneful tyranny.
    So the rose just took a thorn,
    When the bee dropped in one morn,
    Stabbed her; killed her dead, you see.

IX.

    That night by the yellow moon,
    Sitting on the lily-pad,
    Tuning up his old bassoon,
    Did n't that old frog feel sad
    When the lily told him! Cried
    Fit to break one's heart; and, plunk!
    In he plunged right there and sunk:
    Drowned, committed suicide.



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