Classic Poem

He is just a boy with his eyes aglow,
Just a boy, and you love him so,
And his merry laugh and his roguish way
And those restless feet which turn to play
Are youth's rich treasures swiftly spent.
You had them once ere your boyhood went,
You raced and romped in the self-same way,
But you cry, " Keep still! " for you're tired to-day.

Time was you jeered at an easy chair
And an hour of quiet was hard to bear;
Then life was filled with a thousand things
And your arms and legs were strong as springs,
And the old folks said as they looked at you:
" He races and romps the whole day through,
And he's never tired and he can't sit still;
He ought to rest, but he never will. "

He is just a boy, and a boy must jump,
And a boy must run till his pulses thump,
Must swing his arms and kick his heels
And give full vent to the joy he feels;
Must rush in the house and bolt his meals
And long for things which run on wheels;
And whenever you find him sitting still
It's not that he's tired — it's because he's ill.