…from the quills of the dead white poets
Robert William Service (1874 – 1958)
O Teddy Bear! with your head awry And your comical twisted smile, You rub your eyes – do you wander why You’ve slept such a long, long while? As you lay so still in the cupboard dim, And you heard on the roof the rain, Were you thinking... what has become of him? And when will he play again? Do you something long for a chubby hand, And a voice so sweetly shrill? O Teddy Bear! don’t you understand Why the house is awf’ly still? You sit with your muzzle propped on your paws, And your whimsical face askew. Don’t wait, don’t wait for your friend … because He’s sleeping and dreaming too. Aye, sleeping long…. You remember how He stabbed our hearts with his cries? And oh, the dew of pain on his brow, And the deeps of pain in his eyes! And, Teddy Bear! you remember, too, As he sighed and sank to his rest, How all of a sudden he smiled to you, And he clutched you close to his breast. I’ll put you away, little Teddy Bear, In the cupboard far from my sight; Maybe he’ll come and he’ll kiss you there, A wee white ghost in the night. But me, I’ll live with my love and pain A weariful lifetime through; And my Hope: will I see him again and again? Ah, God! If I only knew!