XI
The time lagged on; some children through his doorProdded his fur with sticks, the clock struck four.Now is the time, but Jocko does not care,When carriers are starting from the Bear;Fast in his pen, and all his anger gone,No longer would he live at Clarendon.Home was his one desire. “At six,” he said,“My Betsey-Jane is kissed, and goes to bed,Her bath-tub by the nursery fire will be,She will come in and look around for meAnd sob all night beneath her counterpaneFor her lost Jocko—little Betsey-Jane!”
The time lagged on; some children through his doorProdded his fur with sticks, the clock struck four.Now is the time, but Jocko does not care,When carriers are starting from the Bear;Fast in his pen, and all his anger gone,No longer would he live at Clarendon.Home was his one desire. “At six,” he said,“My Betsey-Jane is kissed, and goes to bed,Her bath-tub by the nursery fire will be,She will come in and look around for meAnd sob all night beneath her counterpaneFor her lost Jocko—little Betsey-Jane!”
The time lagged on; some children through his doorProdded his fur with sticks, the clock struck four.Now is the time, but Jocko does not care,When carriers are starting from the Bear;Fast in his pen, and all his anger gone,No longer would he live at Clarendon.Home was his one desire. “At six,” he said,“My Betsey-Jane is kissed, and goes to bed,Her bath-tub by the nursery fire will be,She will come in and look around for meAnd sob all night beneath her counterpaneFor her lost Jocko—little Betsey-Jane!”