Beautifully Janet slept <br />Till it was deeply morning. She woke then <br />And thought about her dainty-feathered hen, <br />To see how it had kept. <br /> <br /> <br />One kiss she gave her mother, <br />Only a small one gave she to her daddy <br />Who would have kissed each curl of his shining baby; <br />No kiss at all for her brother. <br /> <br /> <br />“Old Chucky, Old Chucky!” she cried, <br />Running on little pink feet upon the grass <br />To Chucky’s house, and listening. But alas, <br />Her Chucky had died. <br /> <br /> <br />It was a transmogrifying bee <br />Came droning down on Chucky’s old bald head <br />And sat and put the poison. It scarcely bled, <br />But how exceedingly <br /> <br /> <br />And purply did the knot <br />Swell with the venom and communicate <br />Its rigour! Now the poor comb stood up straight <br />But Chucky did not. <br /> <br /> <br />So there was Janet <br />Kneeling on the wet grass, crying her brown hen <br />(Translated far beyond the daughters of men) <br />To rise and walk upon it. <br /> <br /> <br />And weeping fast as she had breath <br />Janet implored us, “Wake her from her sleep!” <br />And would not be instructed in how deep <br />Was the forgetful kingdom of death.<br /><br />John Crowe Ransom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/janet-waking/
