Janet Waking

Beautifully Janet slept Till it was deeply morning. She woke then And thought about her dainty-feathered hen, To see how it had kept. One kiss she gave her mother, Only a small one gave she to her daddy Who would have kissed each curl of his shining baby; No kiss at all for her brother. “Old Chucky, Old Chucky!” she cried, Running on little pink feet upon the grass To Chucky’s house, and listening. But alas, Her Chucky had died. It was a transmogrifying bee Came droning down on Chucky’s old bald head And sat and put the poison. It scarcely bled, But how exceedingly And purply did the knot Swell with the venom and communicate Its rigour! Now the poor comb stood up straight But Chucky did not. So there was Janet Kneeling on the wet grass, crying her brown hen (Translated far beyond the daughters of men) To rise and walk upon it. And weeping fast as she had breath Janet implored us, “Wake her from her sleep!” And would not be instructed in how deep Was the forgetful kingdom of death.