WHEN mother sits beside my bed At night, and strokes and smooths my head, And kisses me, I think, some way, How naughty I have been all day; Of how I waded in the brook, And of the cookies that I took, And how I smashed a window light A-rassling--me and Bobby White-- And tore my pants, and told a lie; It almost makes me want to cry When mother pats and kisses me; I'm just as sorry as can be, But I don't tell her so--no, sir. She knows it all; you can't fool her. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 12 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON AT THE SAND CREEK BRIDGE by JAMES GALVIN A BOY'S MOTHER by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY HE GIVES HIS BELOVED CERTAIN RHYMES by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 13 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) MY BATH by JOHN STUART BLACKIE |