My Little Son

Morris Rosenfeld

1887

I have a son, a little son,
a youngster mighty fine!
and when I look at him I feel
that all the world is mine.
But seldom do I see him when
he’s wide awake and bright.
I always find him sound asleep;
I see him late at night.
The time-clock drags me off at dawn,
at night it lets me go.
I hardly know my flesh and blood;
his eyes I hardly know .…
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