The Shattered Dream By Edgar Albert Guest

The Shattered Dream

I WAS somewhere off in Europe spending money like a king,
Owned a yacht like J. P. Morgan’s, when the ‘phone began to ring;
I was entertaining princes, dukes and earls, when wifie said:
‘It’s the telephone that’s ringing, you must hustle out of bed.’
And I wandered down the stairway, grumbling o’er my vanished joy,
Growled: ‘Hello;’ and then he shouted: ‘You’re an uncle! It’s a boy!’

I was dazed for half a minute—when you’re cruising foreign seas
With a lot of royal people, and your sails are full of breeze,
And your guests are gaily laughing, and your skies are blue above,
The arrival of a baby isn’t what you’re thinking of;
And I hardly knew I’d taken that old ‘phone receiver down
When excitedly he shouted: ‘There’s a junior come to town!’

But I traveled back from Europe just as quickly as I could,
And left those dukes and princes and I shouted to him: ‘Good!’
I fired my stylish butlers and I threw my yacht away,
In my dollar-blue-pajamas I stood there and cried: ‘Hooray!’
I quit the king, not caring that my conduct might annoy,
And I shouted up to mother: ‘Did you hear me? It’s a boy!’

When I’m dreaming I am wealthy and with money I am free,
There are times I do not welcome folks who telephone to me;
But I don’t begrudge the finest dream that ever sweetened sleep
To one who has such news as that, great news that cannot keep.
He may wake me any moment, and my peace it won’t destroy,
For I’ll share his gladness with him, when he tells me: ‘It’s a boy!’

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