That Smile

I sure do like that kid, although I know He's rotten spoiled, and ought to be suppressed. He's boiling over with boy-nonsense! So The neighbors have no chance to get a rest. Not bad, you understand; just "some unlucky" In getting caught at things, once in a while; Yet when he does, he never runs--he's plucky! But plays that smile of his, that flashing smile.

Sometimes when he has done a foolish thing-- Like "hoeing weeds" with our best garden hose, Or in the rose bed "built a min'rul spring," He's bound to make me peevish, goodness knows! Yet when he tries to "'splain it all" to me, I don't succumb a moment to his guile; I'm stern, as stern, indeed, as I can be-- Until he smiles that mother-given smile!

Perhaps he doesn't understand how strong A weapon he possesses--Gracious me! Disarmed by it, I can not right the wrong By scolding him, however forcefully. I do believe, if Fate itself were bent On breaking him, 'twould hesitate a while And feel ashamed!... He wins without intent Because--God bless him!--he knows when to smile.