In Vacation Time

There’s a hole in his hat with the hair sticking through, And a toe that peeps out from a hole in his shoe; There’s a patch in his trousers, a darn in his hose, And a freckle that tilts on the bridge of his nose; But oh, in his heart there’s the glimmer and shine Of a sun that I wish could be shining in mine.

There’s a smudge on his face that is dusty and dark, But a song in his heart like the song of a lark; There’s a rent in his coat where the lining shows through, But the whistle he tunes to the wild bird is true; And, oh, in his heart, with a sparkle like wine, Is a gladness I wish could be sparkling in mine.

There’s an imp in his hair that may keep it awry, But a twinkle so rare in the blue of his eye; There’s an uneven slant of his trousers, made fast With a nail through their tops, for a button won’t last; But deep in his heart lies a spring cool and fine Of good cheer that I wish could be bubbling in mine.

There’s a tan on his cheek where the flush of health glows, And the skin has all peeled from the tip of his nose; His pockets are bulged with tops, marbles and strings, With jack-knives and other uncountable things; But the brooks and the woods bring a music divine To his ears that I wish they were bringing to mine.