XIV
So back to Endless Street and once againOur Jocko slumbers close to Betsey-Jane,Clutched in her little fingers’ rosy snare,Among the sleepy tangles of her hair,Seen dimly through her cot’s surrounding rail.And here are morals tied to Jocko’s Tale:—“Though hurt your feelings never try to roamFor there are many places worse than home.”And yet another,—“Never slight or spurnA good old friend, they say a worm will turn;And such-like stories end in deeper painThan that of Jocko and his Betsey-Jane.”
So back to Endless Street and once againOur Jocko slumbers close to Betsey-Jane,Clutched in her little fingers’ rosy snare,Among the sleepy tangles of her hair,Seen dimly through her cot’s surrounding rail.And here are morals tied to Jocko’s Tale:—“Though hurt your feelings never try to roamFor there are many places worse than home.”And yet another,—“Never slight or spurnA good old friend, they say a worm will turn;And such-like stories end in deeper painThan that of Jocko and his Betsey-Jane.”
So back to Endless Street and once againOur Jocko slumbers close to Betsey-Jane,Clutched in her little fingers’ rosy snare,Among the sleepy tangles of her hair,Seen dimly through her cot’s surrounding rail.And here are morals tied to Jocko’s Tale:—“Though hurt your feelings never try to roamFor there are many places worse than home.”And yet another,—“Never slight or spurnA good old friend, they say a worm will turn;And such-like stories end in deeper painThan that of Jocko and his Betsey-Jane.”