So back to Endless Street and once again Our Jocko slumbers close to Betsey-Jane, Clutched in her little fingers’ rosy snare, Among the sleepy tangles of her hair, Seen dimly through her cot’s surrounding rail. And here are morals tied to Jocko’s Tale:— “Though hurt your feelings never try to roam For there are many places worse than home.” And yet another,—“Never slight or spurn A good old friend, they say a worm will turn; And such-like stories end in deeper pain Than that of Jocko and his Betsey-Jane.”
THE WAG-TAIL
By brook and bent, Alert and diligent, All day my merry wag-tail went,
Soberly clad She seemed, in feathers sad Which yet a fair white braiding had;
Nor did she fail With jerking beak and tail Quite to dislodge th’ incurious snail,
And thence away To the pollard where all day Her brown big-footed babies lay.
—I do desire No better, nor look higher, Pied wag-tail, than thy plain attire;
Nor would I roam Afar, but kindly come Back to th’ acclaiming mouths at home.
Like thee to run About my works begun And pluck delights from ev’ry one.