When Old Jack Died

When Old Jack died, we stayed from school (they said,      At home, we needn't go that day), and none      Of us ate any breakfast - only one,      And that was Papa - and his eyes were red      When he came round where we were, by the shed      Where Jack was lying, half-way in the sun      And half-way in the shade. When we begun      To cry out loud, Pa turned and dropped his head      And went away; and Mamma, she went back      Into the kitchen. Then, for a long while,      All to ourselves, like, we stood there and cried.      We thought so many good things of Old Jack,      And funny things - although we didn't smile -      We couldn't only cry when Old Jack died.      When Old Jack died, it seemed a human friend      Had suddenly gone from us; that some face      That we had loved to fondle and embrace      From babyhood, no more would condescend      To smile on us forever. We might bend      With tearful eyes above him, interlace      Our chubby fingers o'er him, romp and race,      Plead with him, call and coax - aye, we might send      The old halloo up for him, whistle, hist,      (If sobs had let us) or, as wildly vain,      Snapped thumbs, called "Speak," and he had not replied;      We might have gone down on our knees and kissed      The tousled ears, and yet they must remain      Deaf, motionless, we knew - when Old Jack died.      When Old Jack died, it seemed to us, some way,      That all the other dogs in town were pained      With our bereavement, and some that were chained,      Even, unslipped their collars on that day      To visit Jack in state, as though to pay      A last, sad tribute there, while neighbors craned      Their heads above the high board fence, and deigned      To sigh "Poor Dog!" remembering how they      Had cuffed him, when alive, perchance, because,      For love of them he leaped to lick their hands -      Now, that he could not, were they satisfied?      We children thought that, as we crossed his paws,      And o'er his grave, 'way down the bottom-lands,      Wrote "Our First Love Lies Here," when Old Jack died.