Little All-Aloney
Little All-Aloney’s feetPitter-patter in the hall,And his mother runs to meetAnd to kiss her toddling sweet,Ere perchance he fall.He is, oh, so weak and small!Yet what danger shall he fearWhen his mother hovereth near,And he hears her cheering call:“All-Aloney”?
Little All-Aloney’s faceIt is all aglow with glee,As around that romping-placeAt a terrifying paceLungeth, plungeth he!And that hero seems to beAll unconscious of our cheers—Only one dear voice he hearsCalling reassuringly:“All-Aloney!”
Though his legs bend with their load,Though his feet they seem so smallThat you cannot help forebodeSome disastrous episodeIn that noisy hall,Neither threatening bump nor fallLittle All-Aloney fears,But with sweet bravado steersWhither comes that cheery call:“All-Aloney!”
Ah, that in the years to come,When he shares of Sorrow’s store,—When his feet are chill and numb,When his cross is burdensome,And his heart is sore:Would that he could hear once moreThe gentle voice he used to hear—Divine with mother love and cheer—Calling from yonder spirit shore:“All, all alone!”