Six years went by, and I happened to look at my toys one day. When I came across a wooden horse with which I used to play, A little wooden pony I found in the old toy "press," That I once had got in a present from dear little brown-eyed Bess 'Mongst the flowers I was dreaming and thinking--Was I ever to see her more? When roused by a sound I looked and saw a carriage before the door I ran right out of the garden and up the wooden stair, Till I came to my own pink bedroom where I quickly smoothed my hair; At my heart came a rush of rapture as I hastened to brush my dress For who was down in the parlor? 'Twas dear little brown-eyed Bess. Once more does our friendship flourish like the flowers in the garden-bed, And a tall young stately maiden is in little Bessie's stead. When I look at this stately maiden I think of the bright pink moss, I think of a foaming brooklet with a bridge of stones across; I think of a waste of heather, a collie pup, and a cat, In the arms of a rosy baby with a blue straw sun shade hat. When I look at this stately maiden I cannot a smile suppress. While I bless in my heart the good old times when I knew her as little Bess. JEANIE P. H. SIMPSON [Illustration: DEAR LITTLE BROWN-EYED BESS.] [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration]