Dimple-cheeked and rosy-lipped, With his cap-rim backward tipped, Still in fancy I can see Little Tommy smile on me -- Little Tommy Smith.
Little unsung Tommy Smith -- Scarce a name to rhyme it with; Yet most tenderly to me Something sings unceasingly -- Little Tommy Smith.
On the verge of some far land Still forever does he stand, With his cap-rim rakishly Tilted; so he smiles on me -- Little Tommy Smith.
Elder-blooms contrast the grace Of the rover's radiant face -- Whistling back, in mimicry, "Old -- Bob -- White! " all liquidly -- Little Tommy Smith.
O my jaunty statuette Of first love, I see you yet. Though you smile so mistily, It is but through tears I see, Little Tommy Smith.
But, with crown tipped back behind, And the glad hand of the wind Smoothing back your hair, I see Heaven's best angel smile on me, -- Little Tommy Smith.
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