In Memoriam to Eugene Field

Sonnet I

Speak softly here where he was laid to rest.

Step lightly where the feet of angels trod

Who bore his spirit Home to meet his God

Who welcomed him, not as a transient guest,

But as a son returning from a quest--

His task completed, where the mundane sod

Was brighter for his flowers of wit; the prod

Of toil a challenge mounting laughter's crest.

His door to childhood, ever left ajar,

Death opened wide; bade all to enter there--

Boy Blue, the angel children, joyously,

Were waiting at the gates lit by a star.

Speak softly! Singing comes--on jasmined-air--

Sweet as the truth of immortality.

Sonnet II

Can Heaven be more beautiful than this,

His shrine framed by a garden; the embrace

Of silent peace here in the hallowed place

Where loved ones gently laid the chrysalis

His spirit wore? Across the still abyss

Of death, star-spanned, borne by the tender grace

Of angels, he returned to God, his face

Bearing the record of his earthly bliss.

I think that Heaven's little children came

And climbed upon his knee: his own Boy Blue

And all the rest who romped on Heavenly loam.

Within the Book of Life, he saw his name

Recorded. Then as childish laughter grew,

He felt a deep content and was at home.