Sitting on the dock this bright sunny day
In a boat, I saw my family row away
They will take me, I’m really wishing
Cause I know they all went fishing
Author Eileen Clark
Beautiful Painting by Victoria Levina / http://artrussia.ru/en/viktoria_levina
Da spreeng ees com’ but oh, da joy
Eet ees too late !
He was so cold, my leetla boy,
He no could wait.
I no can count how manny week,
How manny day, dat he ees seeck,
how manny night I seet an’ hold
da leetla hand dat was so cold.
He was so patience,oh, so sweet.
Eet hurts my throat to theenk of eet:
An all he evra ask ees w’en
Is gona com’ da spreeng agen.
Wan day, wan brighta sunny day,
He see across da alleyway,
Da leetla girl dat’s liven’ dere
Ees raise her window for da air,
And put outside a leetla pot
of w’at you call?-forget-me-not.
So smalla flower, so leetla theeng!
But steel eet mak’ hees hearta seeng.
“Oh, now, at las’,ees com’ da spreeng!
Da leetla plant ees glad for know,
Da sun ees com’ for mak’ eet grow.
So too, I am grow warm and strong.
So lika dat he seeng hees song.
But, ah, da night com’ down an den,
Da winter ees sneak back agen,
An in da alley, all da night
Eees fall da snow, so cold, so white.
An’ cover up da leetla pot
Of w’at you call ? for-get-me-not.
All night da leetla hand I hold.
Eees grow so cold, so cold, so cold !
Da spreeng ees come, but oh, da joy,
Eet ees too late!
He was so cold, my leetla boy,
He no could wait.
by Thomas Augustine Daly
Thomas Augustine Daly was an Irish-American poet who is more commonly referred to as T A Daly. He was a very popular writer, mainly poetry, but he had many articles published in newspapers and magazines. He also made a good living on the lecturing and after-dinner speaking circuit where he would often recite his own poetry to appreciative audiences. His style was mostly humorous and he wrote in a curious mixture of mock Italian-American and Irish-American dialect.
Read More: https://mypoeticside.com/poets/thomas-augustine-daly-poems
My mom read this often to my brothers and me and every time it made me cry. The image and poem was in this book
The New Wonder World 1939 ~ The Child In The Home
A clothesline was a news forecast, to neighbors passing by.
There were no secrets you could keep, when clothes were hung to dry.
It also was a friendly link, for neighbors always knew,
If company had stopped on by, to spend a night or two.
For then you’d see the fancy sheets and towels upon the line;
You’d see the company tablecloths, with intricate design.
The line announced a baby’s birth, to folks who lived inside,
As brand new infant clothes, were hung so carefully with pride.
The ages of the children, could so readily be known
By watching how the sizes changed, you’d know how much they’d grown.
It also told when illness struck, as extra sheets were hung;
Then nightclothes, and a bathrobe too, haphazardly were strung.
It also said “Gone on vacation now”, when lines hung limp and bare.
It told “We’re back!” when full lines sagged, with not an inch to spare.
New folks in town were scorned upon, if washing was dingy grey,
As neighbors carefully raised their brows, and looked disgustedly away.
But clotheslines now are of the past, for dryers make work much less,
Now what goes on inside a home, is anybody’s guess.
I really miss that way of life; it was a friendly sign,
When neighbors knew each other best, by what was hanging on the line.
Author Unknown, that’s sad.
Controversy Over The Clothes Line https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clothes_line
Beautiful painting credit goes to Jeffrey T. Larson Wonderful American Painter – https://www.jeffreytlarson.com/
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