A boy went to war in 1914, and left his bike chained to a tree.  

He never got home, and his family left the bike by the tree in his memory. 

This is that tree today.

Little Boy Blue

The little toy dog is covered with dust.

   But sturdy and stanch he stands;

And the little toy soldier is red with rust,

   And his musket moulds in his hands.

Time was when the little toy dog was new,

   And the soldier was passing fair;

And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue

   Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,

   "And don't you make any noise!"

So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,

   He dreamt of the pretty toys;

And, as he was dreaming, an angel song

   Awakened our Little Boy Blue ––

Oh! the years are many, the years are long,

   But the little toy friends are true!

Ay,  faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,

    Each in the same old place 

Awaiting the touch of a little hand,

   The smile of a little face;

And they wonder, as waiting the long years through

    In the dust of that little chair,

What has become of our Little Boy Blue,

   Since he kissed them and put them there.

~ Eugene Field (1850-1895)