Classic Poem

Sunny days, and sunny days,
And all day long,
Here they go, and there they go,
In and out the throng.

Here they go, and there they go,
Up and down the street;
Benjie grinding out the tune,
Bessie singing sweet.

Singing loud, and singing low,
Trilling out the tune,
Not as Benjie grinds it out,
But as birds in June

Lift and lift their voices up
Out of pure delight;
Singing loud, and singing low,
Morning, noon, and night.

What! you never heard our Bess?
Never heard her sing
" John Brown's soul is marching on, "
And " The Lord is King " ?

Why, where've you lived, I wonder,
Never to have heard
Bessie, with her tambourine,
Singing like a bird?

Singing up and down the street,
Singing high and low,
Since a little child of three,
Twice three years ago.

It is twice three years, and more,
Since that summer day
When the news from Gettysburg
Told how Sergeant May,

Through the thickest of the fight,
Through the rush and roar
Of the shout and shot and shell,
Held the flag he bore

Firmly, till the very last,
When they found him lying
By the famous old stone-wall,
In the twilight, — dying

Dying, faltering at the last,
" Little Bess and Ben!
They'll miss their father sorely:
Who'll look out for them when — "

And that was all, — the words broke off
In this world, for the other,
And little Bess and Ben were left
With neither father, mother.

And this is why that through the street,
In and out the throng,
Sunny days and sunny days,
And all day long,

Here they go, and there they go,
Up and down the street;
Benjie grinding out the tune,
Bessie singing sweet.