Little Joe

What will the birds do, Mother, in the spring?

Will they gather the crumbs 'round our door?

Will they fly from the nest in the top of the tree

And ask why Joe wanders out no more?

What will the kitten do, Mother, all alone

Stray from his frolic for a day?

Will he lie on the rug beside my bed

Like he did before he went away?

What of Thomas, the old gardener, dear

When you ask him for flowers for me?

Will he give you the rose he has tended with care?

The fairest of that lot around the tree?

I saw the tears come into his honest eyes

He said it was the wind that brought them there

As he gazed on the cheeks growing paler each day

His hand trembled over my hair

Keep Tag, Mother, my little dog

Blind and helpless, it's true

Treat him with kindness as older he grows

He'll sleep in the whole summer through

Show him the colt, Mother, so he may know

That his master then will be dead

Speak to him kindly and often of Joe

And pet him on his brown shaggy head

And you, dearest Mother, shall miss me awhile

In Heaven I shall no larger grow

And any kind angel you meet at the gate

Can take you to your darling little Joe