University of Virginia Library


196

CATY JANE.

One summer morning, as I walked
Along a shady lane,
I met a black-eyed little girl,
Whose name was Caty Jane.
She had a pretty basket full
Of blossoms blue and white,
And when I asked her where she went,
She hid her face from sight;
And sitting where the clover grew
So sweet and thick and red,
She said, “I had a sister once
Who loved me, and is dead;
“And yonder, to the slope on which
You see the willows wave,
I'm going with my flowers, for there
Is little Annie's grave.

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“Her goodness and her gentleness
I oftentimes forgot;
She never said an unkind word,—
I wish that I had not.
“We had a play-house once, beside
This very shady lane;
I wish it never had been made,”
Said little Caty Jane.
“'T was carpeted with grass, and weeds
Were piled to make the walls;
The beds were spread with burdock-leaves,
And mother gave us dolls.
“We had some broken cups, and had
Some skeins of thread, I know,
And sometimes we pretended we
Were women, and would sew;
“And often I would visit her,
And she would come again,
And make believe to visit me,”
Said little Caty Jane.
“One day, when cloudily the sun
Was going down the hill,
Dear Annie said, ‘We must go home,’
The wind was growing chill.

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“And when she wrapt her apron round
Her neck and shoulders bare,
I laughed, and called her grandmamma,
And said it was n't fair
“That she should run away, nor care
For playing, nor for me.
‘O Caty Jane,’ said Annie, then,
‘I'm cold as I can be.
“‘It seems as if no fire nor quilt
Could make me warm again.’
And, sure enough, they never did,”
Said little Caty Jane.
“She said that more and more her head
Kept aching all the while,
And from her hands the playthings fell,
But still she tried to smile.
“And when the moon came up and shone
So cold across the floor,
She said that we would never play
Together any more.
“‘Well, if you feel so very bad,
Do let's go home,’ said I,
‘That you may have a chance to make
Your will before you die.’

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“And so I ran and left her in
Our play-house by the lane,
And ran the faster when she called,
‘Don't leave me, Caty Jane.’
“And sitting by the warm wood-fire,
In little Annie's chair,
I fell asleep, and woke in fright,—
My sister was n't there.
“‘She must be in a neighbor's house,’
My mother said; but I
Hid in her lap my face, and cried
As hard as I could cry;
“And told her I had left her in
Our play-house by the lane;
And there they found her, sure enough,”
Said little Caty Jane,
“Lying upon the frozen ground,
As cold as cold could be;
And when I called her pretty names
She did not speak to me.
“But with pale cheek and shut eyes lay
Upon our little bed.
And when the sun arose at morn,”
Poor mourning Caty said,

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“I called her to get up, and kissed
Her cheek to make her wake;
And when she did not speak nor smile,
I thought my heart would break.
“I brought my playthings and my dolls,
And laid them on the bed,
And told her they were hers to keep,”
Poor little Caty said.
“And, waiting there in fear and doubt,
They softly kissed my brow,
And told me I must live without
My sister Annie, now.
“O then I knew how dear she was,”
Said little Caty Jane,
“And thought if she could be alive,
And play with me again,
“I'd say a thousand things to her
That I had never said.
'T was easy work to think kind words
To say when she was dead.”
And with her eyes brimful of tears,
She went along the lane;
No sister now had she to love,—
Poor little Caty Jane!

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Seeing how very long she stayed
By Annie's lonesome bed,
I thought, If other little girls,
Whose sisters are not dead,
Could know how blest they are, and see
The sad look Caty wore,
They never would be heard to speak
A cross word any more.
For we must do to others just
As we would be done by,
If we would learn to live in peace,
Or peacefully to die.