III
Yet Jocko’s life was not a life of ease,—We think to do entirely as we please,Age teaches otherwise. One evil dayA cat approached the cushion where he layAnd tore away his inoffensive hairAnd left him with his leathern skin laid bare,Silent upon the rug. His Betsey-JaneFound him with tears and kissed him well again;But she herself, forgetful of her grief,Laughed when they dressed him in a handkerchiefJust like a doll, but Jocko did not mind,He still forgave her for his heart was kind.
Yet Jocko’s life was not a life of ease,—We think to do entirely as we please,Age teaches otherwise. One evil dayA cat approached the cushion where he layAnd tore away his inoffensive hairAnd left him with his leathern skin laid bare,Silent upon the rug. His Betsey-JaneFound him with tears and kissed him well again;But she herself, forgetful of her grief,Laughed when they dressed him in a handkerchiefJust like a doll, but Jocko did not mind,He still forgave her for his heart was kind.
Yet Jocko’s life was not a life of ease,—We think to do entirely as we please,Age teaches otherwise. One evil dayA cat approached the cushion where he layAnd tore away his inoffensive hairAnd left him with his leathern skin laid bare,Silent upon the rug. His Betsey-JaneFound him with tears and kissed him well again;But she herself, forgetful of her grief,Laughed when they dressed him in a handkerchiefJust like a doll, but Jocko did not mind,He still forgave her for his heart was kind.