Those little boots with copper toes!
They run the livelong day;
And oftentimes I almost wish
They were miles away;
So tired am I to hear so oft
Their heavy tramp at play.
They walk about the new ploughed ground
Where mud in plenty lies;
They roll it up in marbles round,
They make it into pies,
And then, at night upon the floor,
In every shape it dries!
Today I was disposed to scold,
But when I look tonight
At those little boots before the fire,
With copper toes so bright,
I think how sad my heart would be
To put them out of sight.
For in a trunk upstairs I’ve laid
Two socks of white and blue;
If called to put those boots away,
Dear God, what should I do?
I mourn that there are not tonight
Three pairs instead of two.
I mourn because I thought how nice
My neighbor ‘cross the way,
Could keep her carpets all the year
From getting worn or gray;
Yet well I know she’d smile to own
Some little boots today.
We mothers weary get, and worn,
Over our load of care;
But how we speak to these little ones
Let each of us beware;
For what would our fireside be tonight,
If no little boots were there?
by Mrs. Susan Teall Perry