Where is Bennie?

The cowslips in the morning sun
Unfold each yellow cup,
And watch and wait and whisper low,
" Why isn't Bennie up? "
The robins hop along the path,
Peep in, then fly away,
Others think they come for crumbs.
I hear them chirping say,
" Where is Bennie? "

We see no more about the house
The little checkered tire;
Four chairs around the table stand,
And none need be made higher.
The hatchet hangs against the wall,
The whittlings are swept away;
The little barrow rolls no more,
And the old house seems to say,
" Where is Bennie? "

Down by the willows, green and cool,
The little brook flows on;
But seems to murmur sadly now,
For all the boats are gone.
Miss Puss sits blinking in the sun,
Ready for games of play,
Or roams about from room to room,
While her soft mew seems to say,
" Where is Bennie? "

Under the lindens, far away,
In a cradle warm and wide,
A baby laughs and kicks and crows,
With a small boy at her side.
They frolic there in that soft nest,
Two happy little birds;
And when we call, the youngest sings,
In a sweet song without words,
" Here is Bennie. "
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