WHEN OLD JACK DIED

When Old Jack died, we stayed from school ( they said, At home, we need n't go that day ), and none Of us ate any breakfast — only one, And that was Papa — and his eyes were red

When he came round where we were, by the shed Where Jack was lying, half-way in the sun And half-way in the shade. When we begun To cry out loud, Pa turned and dropped his head

And went away; and Mamma, she went back Into the kitchen. Then, for a long while, All to ourselves, like, we stood there and cried. We thought so many good things of Old Jack,

And funny things — although we did n't smile — We could n't only cry when Old Jack died. When Old Jack died, it seemed a human friend Had suddenly gone from us; that some face

That we had loved to fondle and embrace From babyhood, no more would condescend To smile on us forever. We might bend With tearful eyes above him, interlace

Our chubby fingers o'er him, romp and race, Plead with him, call and coax — aye, we might send The old halloo up for him, whistle, hist, ( If sobs had let us ) or, as wildly vain,

Snapped thumbs, called “Speak,” and he had not replied; We might have gone down on our knees and kissed The tousled ears, and yet they must remain Deaf, motionless, we knew — when Old Jack died.

When Old Jack died, it seemed to us, some way, That all the other dogs in town were pained With our bereavement, and some that were chained, Even, unslipped their collars on that day

To visit Jack in state, as though to pay A last, sad tribute there, while neighbors craned Their heads above the high board fence, and deigned To sigh “Poor Dog!” remembering how they

Had cuffed him, when alive, perchance, because, For love of them he leaped to lick their hands — Now, that he could not, were they satisfied? We children thought that, as we crossed his paws,

And o'er his grave,‘ way down the bottom-lands, Wrote “Our First Love Lies Here,” when Old Jack died.