Black Bunny
It was a black Bunny, with white in its head,Alive when the children went cosy to bed—O early next morning that Bunny was dead!When Bunny’s young master awoke up from sleep,To look at the creatures young master did creep,And saw that this black one lay all of a heap.“O Bunny, what ails you? What does it importThat you lean on one side, with your breath coming short?For I never before saw a thing of the sort!”They took him so gently up out of his hutch,They made him a sick-bed, they loved him so much;They wrapped him up warm; they said, Poor thing, and such;But all to no purpose. Black Bunny he died,And rolled over limp on his little black side;The grown-up spectators looked awkward and sighed.While, as for those others in that congregation,You heard voices lifted in sore lamentation;But three-year-old Baby desired explanation:At least, so it seemed. Then they buried their deadIn a nice quiet place, with a flag at his head;“Poor Bunny!”—in large print—was what the flag said.Now, as they were shovelling the earth in the hole,Little Baby burst out, “Idon’tlike it!”—poor soul!And bitterly wept. So the dead had his dole.That evening, as Babe she was cuddling to bed,“The Bunny will come back again,” Baby said,“And be awhitebunny, and never be dead!”
It was a black Bunny, with white in its head,Alive when the children went cosy to bed—O early next morning that Bunny was dead!When Bunny’s young master awoke up from sleep,To look at the creatures young master did creep,And saw that this black one lay all of a heap.“O Bunny, what ails you? What does it importThat you lean on one side, with your breath coming short?For I never before saw a thing of the sort!”They took him so gently up out of his hutch,They made him a sick-bed, they loved him so much;They wrapped him up warm; they said, Poor thing, and such;But all to no purpose. Black Bunny he died,And rolled over limp on his little black side;The grown-up spectators looked awkward and sighed.While, as for those others in that congregation,You heard voices lifted in sore lamentation;But three-year-old Baby desired explanation:At least, so it seemed. Then they buried their deadIn a nice quiet place, with a flag at his head;“Poor Bunny!”—in large print—was what the flag said.Now, as they were shovelling the earth in the hole,Little Baby burst out, “Idon’tlike it!”—poor soul!And bitterly wept. So the dead had his dole.That evening, as Babe she was cuddling to bed,“The Bunny will come back again,” Baby said,“And be awhitebunny, and never be dead!”
It was a black Bunny, with white in its head,Alive when the children went cosy to bed—O early next morning that Bunny was dead!
It was a black Bunny, with white in its head,
Alive when the children went cosy to bed—
O early next morning that Bunny was dead!
When Bunny’s young master awoke up from sleep,To look at the creatures young master did creep,And saw that this black one lay all of a heap.
When Bunny’s young master awoke up from sleep,
To look at the creatures young master did creep,
And saw that this black one lay all of a heap.
“O Bunny, what ails you? What does it importThat you lean on one side, with your breath coming short?For I never before saw a thing of the sort!”
“O Bunny, what ails you? What does it import
That you lean on one side, with your breath coming short?
For I never before saw a thing of the sort!”
They took him so gently up out of his hutch,They made him a sick-bed, they loved him so much;They wrapped him up warm; they said, Poor thing, and such;
They took him so gently up out of his hutch,
They made him a sick-bed, they loved him so much;
They wrapped him up warm; they said, Poor thing, and such;
But all to no purpose. Black Bunny he died,And rolled over limp on his little black side;The grown-up spectators looked awkward and sighed.
But all to no purpose. Black Bunny he died,
And rolled over limp on his little black side;
The grown-up spectators looked awkward and sighed.
While, as for those others in that congregation,You heard voices lifted in sore lamentation;But three-year-old Baby desired explanation:
While, as for those others in that congregation,
You heard voices lifted in sore lamentation;
But three-year-old Baby desired explanation:
At least, so it seemed. Then they buried their deadIn a nice quiet place, with a flag at his head;“Poor Bunny!”—in large print—was what the flag said.
At least, so it seemed. Then they buried their dead
In a nice quiet place, with a flag at his head;
“Poor Bunny!”—in large print—was what the flag said.
Now, as they were shovelling the earth in the hole,Little Baby burst out, “Idon’tlike it!”—poor soul!And bitterly wept. So the dead had his dole.
Now, as they were shovelling the earth in the hole,
Little Baby burst out, “Idon’tlike it!”—poor soul!
And bitterly wept. So the dead had his dole.
That evening, as Babe she was cuddling to bed,“The Bunny will come back again,” Baby said,“And be awhitebunny, and never be dead!”
That evening, as Babe she was cuddling to bed,
“The Bunny will come back again,” Baby said,
“And be awhitebunny, and never be dead!”
W. B. Rands.