XII
While Jocko thus lamented, through the crowdThere came a little girl who sobbed aloudAnd clutched her Mother’s hand; ’twas Betsey-Jane,Who all the afternoon had sought in vainHer Jocko cast away in Endless Street;Tired are her little gaitered legs, her feetSo weary, each new thought of Jocko bringsNew tears to wet her woollen bonnet stringsAnd drip from each blue tassel to the ground.She would not look on all the beasts around,But Jocko saw her coat, and “Betsey-Jane,”He cried, “Do come and take me home again!”
While Jocko thus lamented, through the crowdThere came a little girl who sobbed aloudAnd clutched her Mother’s hand; ’twas Betsey-Jane,Who all the afternoon had sought in vainHer Jocko cast away in Endless Street;Tired are her little gaitered legs, her feetSo weary, each new thought of Jocko bringsNew tears to wet her woollen bonnet stringsAnd drip from each blue tassel to the ground.She would not look on all the beasts around,But Jocko saw her coat, and “Betsey-Jane,”He cried, “Do come and take me home again!”
While Jocko thus lamented, through the crowdThere came a little girl who sobbed aloudAnd clutched her Mother’s hand; ’twas Betsey-Jane,Who all the afternoon had sought in vainHer Jocko cast away in Endless Street;Tired are her little gaitered legs, her feetSo weary, each new thought of Jocko bringsNew tears to wet her woollen bonnet stringsAnd drip from each blue tassel to the ground.She would not look on all the beasts around,But Jocko saw her coat, and “Betsey-Jane,”He cried, “Do come and take me home again!”