When Old Jack Died by James Whitcomb Riley

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.