The Boy Soldier Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis


Each evening on my lap there climbsA
A little boy of threeB
And with his dimpled chubby fistsC
He pounds me shamefullyD
He gives my beard a vicious tugE
He bravely pulls my noseF
And then he tussles with my hairG
And then explores my clothesH
He throws my pencils on the floorI
My watch is his delightJ
He never seems to think that IK
Have any private rightJ
And though he breaks my good cigarsL
With all his cunning artM
He works a greater ruin farN
Deep down within my heartM
This roguish little tyke who sitsO
Each night upon my kneeB
And hammers at his poor old dadP
Is bound to conquer meB
He little knows that long agoQ
He forced the gates apartM
And marched triumphantly intoR
The city of my heartM
Some day perhaps in years to comeS
When he is older grownT
He too will be assailed as IK
By youngsters of his ownT
And when at last a little ladP
Gives battle on his kneeB
I know that he'll be captured tooR
Just as he captured meB

Edgar Albert Guest


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